Dear Readers,
Yesterday the Boy went to Miami for a work conference (seeing as how it got really cold here in Massachusetts yesterday, I don't pity him). Normally I don't mind him being gone for a few days--I get to watch bad TV and eat pizza and stay up way too late (actually, that last part is not such a good thing....I'd prefer to get more sleep, to be honest).
However, we seem to have a trend of "when one goes away, shit goes south" at the old apartment, and frankly, this is one trend I do not want to keep up with.
The first time was last year--I went away, and when I came back, we discovered we had mice. Then he went away right after that, and we really had a mouse problem that I was stuck dealing with (listening to mousetraps go off all night isn't pleasant).
Then this fall, I went away a lot, and the mice came back, and the Boy had to deal with some pretty disgusting stuff. You could say the Boy was lonely, and the mice wanted to play and keep him company, but he would beg to differ.
Now the Boy's gone again, and our water heater broke. Just when I tried to take a shower. Great. Plus I have a stack of dishes to wash.
The only good thing about this that because we rent, the several hundred dollars it will take to replace the water heater won't be coming out of our pockets.
Well, it's time to get out the stock pots (or at least the clean one) and start warming water the old-fashioned way. I can't sit around and wait for the plumber to show up. Gotta keep moving on.
Your pal,
Jill
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
What Happens When the Tortoise Goes Broke?
Dear USPS,
I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't get around to sending out my Christmas cards this year. True, my contribution is only a drop in the bucket compared to your overall mail volume, but I'm sure there were plenty of other people like me, who just said, "Screw it. Not going to spend the time writing out cards this year."
Of course, that didn't help your bottom line, which is driven in part by first-class mail. If the category of people who decide to stop sending regular mail grows, then you're going to continue to be in real trouble.
Hopefully what will help you is the growing movement to send snail mail, and a bunch of writers are getting in on the act too. I'd read about Mary Robinette Kowal's challenge for February at the beginning of the month (basically, send a piece of first class correspondence every day of the month that the post office delivers), and I thought it was a great idea. So great, that I've only managed to send out two letters.
Yes, two. And it's February 10th. That means I owe seven letters/postcards. Hopefully for your sake, others are doing better than I am in this endeavor, but I promise to send out a few more pieces of mail this month.
What's great about this project is that I'm starting to remember the joys of letter writing. One of my friends who I wrote called me up, and we had a really nice conversation that otherwise wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the letter. He told me how cool it was to receive an actual letter in the mail. Hear that? Snail mail is still hip and cool, even if it's one of the slowest forms of communication!
I'm working on it, USPS. I don't want you to keep hemorrhaging money, and one of the ways to stop that is for me to keep buying stamps and sending mail. And set the trend for others to do so--and we all know how I'm a massive trendsetter in the world at large. Still, I'm putting it out there, and hopefully more people will pick it up and run with it.
Your pal,
Jill
I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't get around to sending out my Christmas cards this year. True, my contribution is only a drop in the bucket compared to your overall mail volume, but I'm sure there were plenty of other people like me, who just said, "Screw it. Not going to spend the time writing out cards this year."
Of course, that didn't help your bottom line, which is driven in part by first-class mail. If the category of people who decide to stop sending regular mail grows, then you're going to continue to be in real trouble.
Hopefully what will help you is the growing movement to send snail mail, and a bunch of writers are getting in on the act too. I'd read about Mary Robinette Kowal's challenge for February at the beginning of the month (basically, send a piece of first class correspondence every day of the month that the post office delivers), and I thought it was a great idea. So great, that I've only managed to send out two letters.
Yes, two. And it's February 10th. That means I owe seven letters/postcards. Hopefully for your sake, others are doing better than I am in this endeavor, but I promise to send out a few more pieces of mail this month.
What's great about this project is that I'm starting to remember the joys of letter writing. One of my friends who I wrote called me up, and we had a really nice conversation that otherwise wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the letter. He told me how cool it was to receive an actual letter in the mail. Hear that? Snail mail is still hip and cool, even if it's one of the slowest forms of communication!
I'm working on it, USPS. I don't want you to keep hemorrhaging money, and one of the ways to stop that is for me to keep buying stamps and sending mail. And set the trend for others to do so--and we all know how I'm a massive trendsetter in the world at large. Still, I'm putting it out there, and hopefully more people will pick it up and run with it.
Your pal,
Jill
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Don't Take Dieting Advice at the Blood Bank
Dear Readers,
Yesterday, I donated platelets for the first time. It's something I've been meaning to do for a while--several months ago, I got a letter from the Red Cross basically saying that after doing scans of the blood I've donated (I try to donate blood regularly), my platelets were pretty freaking awesome, and it'd be helpful if I donated some.
I put the letter aside, always meaning to get back to them. You know how that goes. A few weeks ago, they called, and that's when I signed up.
Donating platelets is a two-hour process, during which blood gets drawn, the platelets are separated out, and the blood's put back into you, along with some saline. Honestly, part of the appeal of doing it was being forced to sit for two hours and not be on a computer. Yes, I still had screen time because I watched a movie ("Away We Go"), but it was a nice forced break. And, you know, I'm helping people.
However, donating platelets and blood doesn't necessarily do a diet good. I'm still plodding along in my quest to shed pounds, and it doesn't help me mentally to have the technician tell me, "You don't look like you weigh x!" Thanks. I do hide the weight well, but that's part of the problem I have--I feel like I look thinner than the scale says.
Later in the donation process, the technician asked if I wanted any water. "Sure, I'll have some water," I replied.
"We've got water, juice, and ginger ale," she said.
I hesitated. Well, if you're going to offer juice.....I ended up asking for cranberry juice.
She brought me two little cans of juice, along with two cookie bars. Then she brought the basket of salty snacks. "You can have whatever you want!"
I can have whatever I want? Platelet donation lets me? Right on! Being a person with a weight problem who thinks that donating platelets will also instantly suck the fat right out of you, I asked for some pretzels. The technician tried to push bags of popcorn and Cheez-Its on me too, but I had to draw the line somewhere.
After donating, I had a hankering for a bagel with cream cheese, so I wandered around downtown Boston until I found a Bruegger's. Had my bagel. Had my cream cheese. Had some hot chocolate. Hey, I'm thinking, at this point I need to listen to my body and feed it what it's asking for. Besides, no strenuous exercise or heavy lifting after donation!
Unfortunately, after the bagel, I felt the need for some kind of iron replenishment, and I seriously thought I was going to have to get a McDonald's cheeseburger, which would essentially have been a first dinner at that point. Granted, I wouldn't eat a second dinner until after that night's roller derby scrimmage, but the idea of putting so much food in my body didn't thrill me.
Luckily, I found a fruit stand and got a banana, which tided me over until I was able to finish the night with a huge bowl of chili smothered with cheese, or as I like to think, "protein and calcium."
Net weight loss on the day: + 2 pounds.
Oh well. Today's a new day. I can revel in the warm fuzzies that I helped some people with my platelets and get back on track.
Your pal,
Jill
Yesterday, I donated platelets for the first time. It's something I've been meaning to do for a while--several months ago, I got a letter from the Red Cross basically saying that after doing scans of the blood I've donated (I try to donate blood regularly), my platelets were pretty freaking awesome, and it'd be helpful if I donated some.
I put the letter aside, always meaning to get back to them. You know how that goes. A few weeks ago, they called, and that's when I signed up.
Donating platelets is a two-hour process, during which blood gets drawn, the platelets are separated out, and the blood's put back into you, along with some saline. Honestly, part of the appeal of doing it was being forced to sit for two hours and not be on a computer. Yes, I still had screen time because I watched a movie ("Away We Go"), but it was a nice forced break. And, you know, I'm helping people.
However, donating platelets and blood doesn't necessarily do a diet good. I'm still plodding along in my quest to shed pounds, and it doesn't help me mentally to have the technician tell me, "You don't look like you weigh x!" Thanks. I do hide the weight well, but that's part of the problem I have--I feel like I look thinner than the scale says.
Later in the donation process, the technician asked if I wanted any water. "Sure, I'll have some water," I replied.
"We've got water, juice, and ginger ale," she said.
I hesitated. Well, if you're going to offer juice.....I ended up asking for cranberry juice.
She brought me two little cans of juice, along with two cookie bars. Then she brought the basket of salty snacks. "You can have whatever you want!"
I can have whatever I want? Platelet donation lets me? Right on! Being a person with a weight problem who thinks that donating platelets will also instantly suck the fat right out of you, I asked for some pretzels. The technician tried to push bags of popcorn and Cheez-Its on me too, but I had to draw the line somewhere.
After donating, I had a hankering for a bagel with cream cheese, so I wandered around downtown Boston until I found a Bruegger's. Had my bagel. Had my cream cheese. Had some hot chocolate. Hey, I'm thinking, at this point I need to listen to my body and feed it what it's asking for. Besides, no strenuous exercise or heavy lifting after donation!
Unfortunately, after the bagel, I felt the need for some kind of iron replenishment, and I seriously thought I was going to have to get a McDonald's cheeseburger, which would essentially have been a first dinner at that point. Granted, I wouldn't eat a second dinner until after that night's roller derby scrimmage, but the idea of putting so much food in my body didn't thrill me.
Luckily, I found a fruit stand and got a banana, which tided me over until I was able to finish the night with a huge bowl of chili smothered with cheese, or as I like to think, "protein and calcium."
Net weight loss on the day: + 2 pounds.
Oh well. Today's a new day. I can revel in the warm fuzzies that I helped some people with my platelets and get back on track.
Your pal,
Jill
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The Straw that Might Break Me
Dear Readers,
There are few things that would cause me to divorce the Boy, but I think I have found the one that could be most threatening to our marriage: Doomsday Preppers.
This is a new show on the National Geographic channel that "explores the lives of otherwise ordinary Americans who are preparing for the end of the world as we know it." After watching glimpses of this show--to which the Boy eagerly watched--I wouldn't really call them "ordinary." No, these people all have a little bit of crazy in them.
Now, I love all sorts of reality TV, but the combo of Hoarders + Extreme Couponers + Doomsday Fanatics is a little too much for me to bear. Especially since the Boy has some survivalist tendencies to begin with. Sure, I can understand preparing for things--having a car emergency kit, having canned goods on hand in case it storms/snows and you can't get out of the house for a little while, having some water in case of a hurricane--but I draw the line at stockpiling 50,000 lbs. of food and acquiring an old school bus so you have an additional "house" in which to live. That's a totally different kind of preparedness--one that's prepping you for a lot of mental health treatments.
Luckily, we're not all that outdoorsy. It's really hard to find ice for your cocktails in the middle of the woods, so we tend to stay close to civilization. However, that doesn't stop the Boy from talking about getting a compound in the middle of nowhere and going off the grid after he's had a bad day at work. With a show that exposes other people who feel like this and are doing something about it, I worry that he thinks we should start preparing for a oil crisis or financial collapse or massive earthquake too.
Besides, he doesn't need "Doomsday Preppers" to teach him methods of getting through a disaster. He should just watch "Survivor" for that.
Your pal,
Jill
There are few things that would cause me to divorce the Boy, but I think I have found the one that could be most threatening to our marriage: Doomsday Preppers.
This is a new show on the National Geographic channel that "explores the lives of otherwise ordinary Americans who are preparing for the end of the world as we know it." After watching glimpses of this show--to which the Boy eagerly watched--I wouldn't really call them "ordinary." No, these people all have a little bit of crazy in them.
Now, I love all sorts of reality TV, but the combo of Hoarders + Extreme Couponers + Doomsday Fanatics is a little too much for me to bear. Especially since the Boy has some survivalist tendencies to begin with. Sure, I can understand preparing for things--having a car emergency kit, having canned goods on hand in case it storms/snows and you can't get out of the house for a little while, having some water in case of a hurricane--but I draw the line at stockpiling 50,000 lbs. of food and acquiring an old school bus so you have an additional "house" in which to live. That's a totally different kind of preparedness--one that's prepping you for a lot of mental health treatments.
Luckily, we're not all that outdoorsy. It's really hard to find ice for your cocktails in the middle of the woods, so we tend to stay close to civilization. However, that doesn't stop the Boy from talking about getting a compound in the middle of nowhere and going off the grid after he's had a bad day at work. With a show that exposes other people who feel like this and are doing something about it, I worry that he thinks we should start preparing for a oil crisis or financial collapse or massive earthquake too.
Besides, he doesn't need "Doomsday Preppers" to teach him methods of getting through a disaster. He should just watch "Survivor" for that.
Your pal,
Jill
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
DVR Update
Dear Readers,
I'm cleaning off the DVR tonight. I vaguely remember a New Year's resolution about getting the DVR emptied. How am I doing?
Well, I'm at something like 56% empty. Not bad, not great. I'm making progress, though seriously, that's only helped by the fact that somehow the DVR erased a bunch of movies I'd taped and had never been in the mood to watch.
Finding out that I'd lost "Donnie Brasco" and "Zoolander" and "Up," was a little disappointing, so I've been on a bit of a crusade to work on the backlog that's still on the DVR. Unfortunately, I've got several episodes of "Glee" and "30 Rock" to burn through, and it's up against "Top Chef" and "Project Runway" and new seasons of "Survivor" and "The Amazing Race."
And I've got a stack of books to read.
Perhaps I should be a little more judicious with the delete button.
Your pal,
Jill
I'm cleaning off the DVR tonight. I vaguely remember a New Year's resolution about getting the DVR emptied. How am I doing?
Well, I'm at something like 56% empty. Not bad, not great. I'm making progress, though seriously, that's only helped by the fact that somehow the DVR erased a bunch of movies I'd taped and had never been in the mood to watch.
Finding out that I'd lost "Donnie Brasco" and "Zoolander" and "Up," was a little disappointing, so I've been on a bit of a crusade to work on the backlog that's still on the DVR. Unfortunately, I've got several episodes of "Glee" and "30 Rock" to burn through, and it's up against "Top Chef" and "Project Runway" and new seasons of "Survivor" and "The Amazing Race."
And I've got a stack of books to read.
Perhaps I should be a little more judicious with the delete button.
Your pal,
Jill
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Stuff I'm Saying to The Boy
Dateline: Super Bowl Sunday, 2012
Me: I think after every time NBC shows Eli Manning, they should cut to Peyton Manning.
The Boy: Are you kidding?! Peyton Manning's not there! He's at home sitting on his couch, watching it on his big screen TV.
Me: At least Peyton Manning has a couch and a big screen TV. (beat) Why can't you be more like Peyton Manning?!
Me: I think after every time NBC shows Eli Manning, they should cut to Peyton Manning.
The Boy: Are you kidding?! Peyton Manning's not there! He's at home sitting on his couch, watching it on his big screen TV.
Me: At least Peyton Manning has a couch and a big screen TV. (beat) Why can't you be more like Peyton Manning?!
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Idea Overload
Dear Readers,
I've got kind of an Andy Rooney vibe going on at the moment, mainly due to the fact that I received one of my regular e-newsletters from Better Homes & Gardens proudly proclaiming "124 DIY Decorating Ideas."
Delete.
I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the trend of media companies throwing tons of information your way, in an attempt to be all things to all people. If I even was into DIY decorating (and if you've seen my home, I clearly should turn in my woman card because it's obvious decorating is really not my forte), I don't want to sift through 124 different projects, which are probably on 124 different web pages so that I'll see 124+ different ads.
BHG is not the only culprit. I also hate the cooking-related e-newsletters that contain 50 chicken recipes so that I can "quickly" choose something for dinner tonight! By the time I look through those 50 recipes, dinner might have been close to done. How about picking five that work with different kinds of dietary restrictions (low-carb, dairy/gluten-free, etc.) and showing me those? Then next week, send me another five? I'm really more apt to browse them then.
This is all really just a lament for what appears to be the dying art of editing. The "more is better" mantra keeps pervading everyone's thought process just when nobody seems to have the time to do anything. Oh, I understand the need to sell ad space and make money off your website, but when you're shoving so much information down my throat that I won't even open your e-newsletter or read your article, that's a lost cause and a waste of a company's money too.
But if they still don't understand, I can write up an article called "27 Tips for Editing Your Information." I've just got to sell some ad space first.
Your pal,
Jill
I've got kind of an Andy Rooney vibe going on at the moment, mainly due to the fact that I received one of my regular e-newsletters from Better Homes & Gardens proudly proclaiming "124 DIY Decorating Ideas."
Delete.
I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the trend of media companies throwing tons of information your way, in an attempt to be all things to all people. If I even was into DIY decorating (and if you've seen my home, I clearly should turn in my woman card because it's obvious decorating is really not my forte), I don't want to sift through 124 different projects, which are probably on 124 different web pages so that I'll see 124+ different ads.
BHG is not the only culprit. I also hate the cooking-related e-newsletters that contain 50 chicken recipes so that I can "quickly" choose something for dinner tonight! By the time I look through those 50 recipes, dinner might have been close to done. How about picking five that work with different kinds of dietary restrictions (low-carb, dairy/gluten-free, etc.) and showing me those? Then next week, send me another five? I'm really more apt to browse them then.
This is all really just a lament for what appears to be the dying art of editing. The "more is better" mantra keeps pervading everyone's thought process just when nobody seems to have the time to do anything. Oh, I understand the need to sell ad space and make money off your website, but when you're shoving so much information down my throat that I won't even open your e-newsletter or read your article, that's a lost cause and a waste of a company's money too.
But if they still don't understand, I can write up an article called "27 Tips for Editing Your Information." I've just got to sell some ad space first.
Your pal,
Jill
Monday, January 23, 2012
Nominee for Best Day of the Year
Dear Readers,
One for the records: Last Friday was The Day.
The Day is the most important day of winter. I never know when it will happen, but when it does, nothing could make me happier.
I'm talking about the day when I first notice that the days are getting longer. The day when I know that spring and summer--!-- are officially going to come and that it will get warmer. This is especially meaningful because I work in a drafty home office that's located directly above a stairwell. That whole scientific concept about bridges icing faster also applies in my house. The Day gives me hope that my work environment will once again be pleasant and not reliant on fuel oil and a space heater.
Most evenings I walk to the commuter rail to meet the Boy when he's coming home from work. The two-mile round trip gets me out of the house and gives me a little bit of exercise. I usually leave the house about 5:25 in order to meet him on time. In winter, it's usually a more difficult trek--it's dark, cold and sometimes icy/snowy; I'm wearing a dark coat; cars don't necessarily see me (though in Massachusetts, that's the norm). But when The Day comes, it's the start to the end of all of that for another year.
On Friday, I walked outside to go to the train station, and I saw it: The faintest hints of blue and orange far on the western horizon. It didn't last long--maybe five minutes at best--but it was there. And it's just a harbinger of days to come.
Therefore, I'd like to nominate The Day for Best Day of the Year. Some people might say Christmas is the best day of the year, or Mother's Day, or the First Day of School. I think The Day is right up there with them and worthy of such recognition.
Your pal,
Jill
One for the records: Last Friday was The Day.
The Day is the most important day of winter. I never know when it will happen, but when it does, nothing could make me happier.
I'm talking about the day when I first notice that the days are getting longer. The day when I know that spring and summer--!-- are officially going to come and that it will get warmer. This is especially meaningful because I work in a drafty home office that's located directly above a stairwell. That whole scientific concept about bridges icing faster also applies in my house. The Day gives me hope that my work environment will once again be pleasant and not reliant on fuel oil and a space heater.
Most evenings I walk to the commuter rail to meet the Boy when he's coming home from work. The two-mile round trip gets me out of the house and gives me a little bit of exercise. I usually leave the house about 5:25 in order to meet him on time. In winter, it's usually a more difficult trek--it's dark, cold and sometimes icy/snowy; I'm wearing a dark coat; cars don't necessarily see me (though in Massachusetts, that's the norm). But when The Day comes, it's the start to the end of all of that for another year.
On Friday, I walked outside to go to the train station, and I saw it: The faintest hints of blue and orange far on the western horizon. It didn't last long--maybe five minutes at best--but it was there. And it's just a harbinger of days to come.
Therefore, I'd like to nominate The Day for Best Day of the Year. Some people might say Christmas is the best day of the year, or Mother's Day, or the First Day of School. I think The Day is right up there with them and worthy of such recognition.
Your pal,
Jill
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