Fini...

Fini...

I mentioned earlier this month that I'm learning to knit. Tonight I finished my first project - a six or six and a half foot long scarf. It has all the hallmarks of a novice project - uneven tension, some edges that zig in and out when they "should" be straight.

I like my daughter's attitude about this stuff: "I don't knit for the end product, I knit for the fun of it." And my mother's: "That's how you know it is hand made. If you want it perfect, get a machine!"

What I like about knitting is that it just productive enough that you can feel virtuous about spending an hour sitting and pondering life, and it is just mindless enough that you can actually ponder. At least my project was mindless.

And in the end I have a scarf that wraps around my long neck once or even twice if I need it.

You'll notice said "first project". While I first learning to cast on, I thought "I'm going to do this project if it kills me, and then I'll probably never touch it again." This first one didn't kill me, and I'm starting to ponder my next project.

Two bits...

Two bits...

Every morning that I ride the bus, when I get dressed I dump over my change jar and count out my fare. I put $1 in one pocket and $1 in the other to make it easy to dump it in the little change box when I climb on the bus. I use whatever change is handy, sometimes including pennies or nickels if that is what comes out first.

So last week after my ride home I found a penny stuck down in the corner of my pocket. Not wanting to cheat the Michiana Council of Governments out of even one penny, I set it out on my dresser and resolved to add it back in the next day.

So the next morning I went through my counting routine, and added the penny back in for good measure.

Now I have to introduce you to one of my morning drivers. The first morning I rode Scrooge's bus and put my change in, he very carefully scrutinized my offering and challenged me. I light-heartedly (although slightly annoyed) pointed out that there was a dime that had fallen underneath one of the quarters. He very carefully tipped the door at the bottom of the box so that he could see that the money was indeed all there, and then let me on the bus.

Since that day he has never trusted my payment. I've almost gotten used to his look - I think you might call it 'Stink Eye' - but I was amazed when I got on Scrooge's bus that fateful morning he put his hand out palm up over the box so that I had to give it to him so he could count it! I did, and thought 'This will show you, you old goat, when you find an extra penny in there.'

I went to the back of the bus and, sure enough a minute later he called me up to the front.

I'm a little embarrassed about what happened next because I wasn't very fast on my feet. I was anticipating he'd say 'Here - you put an extra penny in.' and I'd tell him the whole story. Instead he demanded, 'How much money do you see here?'

I was so surprised by his tone, that I stammered something unintelligible. I wish I had said 'Well, I'm pretty sure I gave you a dollar one. Let me count.' My reading glasses were buried under about 3 layers of clothing and I really couldn't see. Which is a poor excuse because anyone who has grown up with nickels and dimes could count out a dollar with their eyes shut. I wondered if I had miscounted my quarters. Rather than challenge him, I fished a quarter out of my pocket and handed it to him apologizing for mis-calculating.

Then I explained about the extra penny, made a protest that I really am an honest person and went back to my seat feeling about two inches tall.

The more I thought about it after the fact, the more sure I was that I had given him the right amount, but there was no way to prove it to myself or to anyone else.

I'm sure some of my readers - the ones who haven't abandoned this story already - are wondering why it mattered so much to me. It really, really bugged me. As I thought about it, I realized that I'm not used to being treated as an untrustworthy person. I told one friend 'It is one of the few times in my life when White Privilege didn't carry me through.'

Believe it or not, I felt so shamed by the whole incident that I didn't really want to ride the bus anymore. The shame was partly because I might have counted wrong, and partly because I caved into Scrooge's aggression so fast. I even managed to avoid the bus for a day or two because the weather was dry and the roads were clear and I rode my bike.

But this week we've had a ton of snow and my daughter needed my car, so I counted out my change (four quarters this time) and got on the bus.

Monday and Tuesday the driver was Shirley. (Probably not her real name, but it should be.)

Today it was Scrooge.

This time when I got on the bus he didn't cover up the box with his hand so I dropped my four quarters in the box. Than he held out his hand and said 'I found this on the floor last week. Must have been yours.' And he handed me a quarter.

Two bits.

I think we have an understanding.

The truth behind humor vrs. anal tendencies...

The truth behind humor vrs. anal tendencies...

To the comment on the previous post re: putting my anger in alphabetical order, the real answer is 'None of the above.'

The truth is that for maybe the first time in my life I found a Thesaurus actually helped me find better words than the one I had in mind. I did remove some of them, but basically it was Highlight, Control C, Alt-Tab, Control P. So the real real answer is laziness.

To those who have expressed concern, things looked up today when I received a couple of resumes over the weekend from people who look like they are worth interviewing. And, as one friend pointed out to me, I can either exude negative energy and continue being angry or I can get over it and imagine how good it is going to feel when the right person shows up at my door. I confess I hate to let go of righteous indignation and self pity, but it really doesn't get me anywhere.

Besides, I learned of another tragedy today that put my difficulties in perspective. Another employee's father-in-law died over the weekend. He had a history of heart problems and he went out volunteering down in Mississippi. That is tragic, but today his son, my colleague's brother-in-law, was killed in a car accident. He was about my age, with college-aged kids. My heart goes out to this family.

Fuming...

Fuming...

Tonight I feel annoyed, chafed, cross, displeased, enraged, exasperated, fiery, fuming, furious, galled, heated, ill-tempered, incensed, indignant, inflamed, infuriated, irate, nettled, outraged, piqued, provoked, raging, resentful, riled, sore, splenetic, storming, vexed, and wrathful.

About exactly a year ago I let an employee go because he just wasn't working out. It took me nearly 3 months to find his replacement. I invested the last 9 months in training and developing this new guy. Today the new guy resigned.

Mrrhh!

He was just getting to the point where he was paying for himself. Now we're down a person and I expect I'll have to turn away business just as things are picking up. I don't have enough people to do the work.

And I have to start the whole hiring and training cycle all over again.

So if you're looking for a job, know something about programming and databases, and like to travel, leave me a comment. Or tell your friends and relatives.

It is hard to play good music when you're pissed. But the concert is tomorrow night. By that time I will have calmed down.

Good Grief, Charlie Brown...

Good Grief, Charlie Brown...

Peanuts was by far my favorite cartoon strip when I was a kid. I guess at some point I figured I had outgrown it, even though the humor and poignancy of the strip operate equally well or even better for adults.

As a kid, I took 'good grief' at face value: it is what Charlie said when the world just got too much for him. As a adult who has lived - is living - through loss it takes on a whole new meaning. Here is some of what I've learned about good grief...

Grief takes whatever time it takes.

Losses seem to naturally compound and cascade. Sometimes this makes it harder to sort out the compounded and cascaded grief.

Grief has a social component. "I get by with a little help from my friends..." But when some people ask how you are doing, they don't really want to know.

Kubler-Ross was one smart woman, and her model helps; but understanding a model of grief is not the same thing as grieving.

Resignation is not the same as acceptance.

Writing and talking help.

Day of rest...

Day of rest...

I spent substantial chunks of time today catching up with friends and family through the telephone. The afternoon and evening were filled with napping, Moby Dick, knitting and prepping for next Saturday's MCCO concert.

Everybody knows Mozart and Telemann, but nobody has every heard of Vanhal. It is my favorite piece on the program. Hope to see you at the concert.

The last couple hours I've had the fireplace blazing, and the radiant heat is gorgeous. It is the perfect antidote for a yucky, cold, wet day. Yesterday I ordered a whole bunch of seeds for my garden to be, which is another good antidote.

Notes to self on cooking for crowds and an account of a mini-vacation skiing in Northern Michigan...

Notes to self on cooking for crowds and an account of a mini-vacation skiing in Northern Michigan...

To feed spaghetti to 17 people you need about 3 jars of tomato sauce (about 1 qt * 3) with 4, maybe 5 boxes of spaghetti. An onion, couple cloves of garlic and a pound of ground beef round it out. I did six boxes of spelt spaghetti and it was too much. I might have been able to make 4 boxes in one big soup pot, but I did 3 boxes each in two big pots and it didn't glump together. You need a little over 2 good-sized heads of red leaf lettuce for a salad plus a couple of cukes, peppers and carrots or other decorative vegies. Two loaves of garlic bread were about right, but there wasn't any left over either. A 9x14 pan of Pat's oatmeal chocolate chip bars were EASY and a big hit. I didn't know I could actually could pull of a meal like this, but I did, and I got a couple "This is really good!!!" comments.

Skiing was a blast. Weather was perfect Friday with a little fresh snow and hardly anybody on the lifts. Saturday was a little rougher with a lot of fresh, wet snow falling in the afternoon. That made the skiing harder, but I still had a good time. This is the first time I've been out in 2 years, and while I'm not a great skier, I do OK if I stay within my limits. I did fall a couple of times - and my knees are feeling it today. But it is exhilarating to have a good run.

The skiing is only part of the fun. The friends I go with are people I've known for years and we have a good time talking, cooking, and eating. And eating. And eating. And talking. I enjoy the adult kids I've watched growing up (including, of course, my own) and it was great to see the new babies, and catch up with everyone.

Michigan does a pretty good job of keeping their roads clear, but the 5 1/2 hr drive home turned into 8 1/2 hours because of snow, high winds, and low visibility. Of course there was a detour in Grand Rapids so L could catch her flight home. She made it, but it was nip and tuck; a high stress drive in an unfamiliar car. After I dropped her off, I imposed a no-pass policy and stayed in the slow lane. It proved to be a good policy because about 10 miles south of GR I stopped 4 cars short of a 10+ car pileup. The 3 guys behind me got stopped too, but the 4 and 5th were going to fast: one went flying past on the left to join the pileup ahead of us while one flirted with the ditch on the right. I think he got stopped OK. There was a tiny lane open and they directed traffic through while waiting for police and wreckers to show up.

So I'm exhausted. I've consumed a tea pot of ginger tea to rehydrate myself and I'm listening to Palestrina, hoping the others make it home safely too.

Random notes from an insomniac...

Random notes from an insomniac...

Yesterday I got to work after tossing and turning and found two of my staff members in an argument over who had less sleep the night before. The one with the 6 month old baby won - he was up every hour on the hour. (Incidently, she (the baby) showed up later that morning looking bright-eyed and eager, and willing to be passed around to everyone in the office.)

So this morning I decided to get up and post a few notes...

For the impeachment folder...

Pete sent along this note:

Check out this Harry Shearer song, 935 Lies. It can go in the impeachment folder along with being added to the play list of the Heisenberg Orchestra.

http://media.harryshearer.com/?ProgramID=624

The reference, of course, is to the recent analysis by The Center for Public Integrity that "Following 9/11, President Bush and seven top officials of his administration waged a carefully orchestrated campaign of misinformation about the threat posed by Saddam Hussein's Iraq."

Maybe we need a new measure of performance for our government officials: the DPL (Deaths Per Lie). Based on official reports by the Dept. of Defense, that is 4.2 US Deaths Per Lie. According to this site, that is 94.61 Iraqi Deaths Per Lie. I know I've seen higher estimates, so this is probably conservative.

This is depressing.

On more cheerful notes...

I'm learning to knit! I'm not greatly ambitious, but I wanted a nice, long, cotton scarf and asked a friend to knit it for me. When she turned me down I decided "I can do this myself." After buying some yarn and needles and watching a variety of youtube videos I decided maybe this was something my Mother - with many zillions of stitches under her belt - would have some tips on. So Sunday night I brought my gear and had her unteach what I learned and get it right.

In the middle of the lesson she dropped this purl... er pearl: "Your Dad knit." Huh? Turns out about the time I was born Dad got the idea that he wanted to knit, so he did. Knit himself some socks and mittens, then talked my mother into learning to knit so she could knit him a sweater. So just when I think I'm on the pushing the boundaries of what I can do, I find my dad was there 50+ years ago. One question I need to ask: who actually taught him the stitches? His mother wasn't around to help, and Mom made it sound like he learned first.

And speaking of things I'm learning...

I've been putting a lot of energy into learning Goldratt's Theory of Constraints, along with the accompanying Thinking Processes. It is helping me uncover some interesting stuff in my business.

And finally...

Tomorrow morning I'm heading North for a weekend of skiing. L is flying home to join me with a bunch of friends from church for a long weekend. Weather forecast looks good with fresh snow coming every day. I'm looking forward to seeing my daughter, getting out on the snow, and eating good food.

I guess not finally...

Obama wins more states and fewer delegates. Clinton takes NY and CA. I have to say I'll be disappointed if Obama loses. Will this still be undecided by the time I get to cast my vote?

Small world...

Small world...

The worst thing about visiting Disney World is waking up 5 days later with "Its a small world after all" boring through your head like a termite in an old house. Argh!!!

Under the 'What have you done to my son?' department I called at 9pm his time and he had been up since 5:30am and was too tired to talk. Had to get to bed. Hello? Is this the same guy who lived on second shift all through high school and I think college? Probably had an ultimate tournament.

Not that you care, but I gotta stop procrastinating, go downstairs and do my dishes.