When you were young, you were the king of carrot flowers ... No idea why this album is the one to listen to right now. But there it is.
I am flying to Saint Louis on Tuesday to be with my family. The impetus is my grandmother's illness, dying, hospital stay, stage four cancer in July, remission in December, five units of blood in the hospital in December, three units of blood and two of platelets now, in a reverse isolation room, with an order for "discharge with placement" which means assisted living or custodial or something. Not that she's at all ready for discharge yet.
She's 72? 73? Her mother lived to 98.
This woman ... I told my dad this summer that she is the most evil person I know, and I am sticking by it. Loads of abuse, alcoholism, irresponsibility, denial, crazymaking, paranoia, and, to top it off, she really hates people. She was close to one of her cousins for decades and broke off their friendship because her cousin talked about her grandson a lot, and it annoyed my grandmother. Also the most bizarre person I know.
So, sadness, well. Let's not address that. I've written poems and essays about this woman because she is that kind of negative muse, you know?
But I want to be with my family, with my mom, and right now I can be. So I will be.
Of course, I'm just settling into Seattle, into my apartment with the working heater and bathroom light, into baking bread at home, cooking the best pizza I've ever made (whole-wheat crust with an overnight rise, parsley pesto for sauce, whole-milk mozzarella shredded on top), being with Noah. Waltz lessons. Ice cream at Molly Moon's afterward.
I'll come back, though. Sometime. Maybe in a week or two. I didn't buy a return ticket.
23 January 2010
18 January 2010
Sunny, and a Petition for Comments
Where are you, people? Here I am talking into the ether, and you refuse to comment. A right I also enjoy, I occasionally refuse to comment on your blogs, your links, reddit.com's links, Facebook status updates, et al. But you could at least say hello.
So shall I say, hello.
Our bathroom's ceiling light fixture stopped working (at midnight, of course--headlamp to the rescue); now it works again. Thank you, Dave the handyman. Thank you for working hard and sighing and asking to borrow my laptop so you could look up what the hell was going on. Apparently, the wiring comes from the main box to the light switch with an outlet which is seated outside the bathroom, then to the light fixture and exhaust fan in the ceiling, then back down to an outlet with no switch by the sink inside the bathroom. No power leaves the outlet in the hall. And when something is plugged into the outlet by the sink, A SERIES CIRCUIT IS COMPLETED, and, without turning the hall switch for the light/fan on, the light and fan come on dimly. Because the bathroom is wired like old Christmas lights. And it is obviously a code violation.
And the other handyman is coming by tomorrow morning to take down the leaky bathroom ceiling, which maybe will help the wiring situation.
And he's going to look at the heater which should be working--not the boat heater, the house heater.
After all this apartment drama, this code-violation-tragicomedy, Noah and I look at each other and say, You know, there are lots of things I don't like about this apartment ... but I hate moving. And it is cheap. And it is in a great neighborhood, and there are chickens, and gardens, and basement storage, and it is painted in colors we like, and it's big enough ... So we might be here a while.
Yarn, right? And writing? And this editing? And on and on. Whatever. It is sunny out. You have no idea how rare that is.
So shall I say, hello.
Our bathroom's ceiling light fixture stopped working (at midnight, of course--headlamp to the rescue); now it works again. Thank you, Dave the handyman. Thank you for working hard and sighing and asking to borrow my laptop so you could look up what the hell was going on. Apparently, the wiring comes from the main box to the light switch with an outlet which is seated outside the bathroom, then to the light fixture and exhaust fan in the ceiling, then back down to an outlet with no switch by the sink inside the bathroom. No power leaves the outlet in the hall. And when something is plugged into the outlet by the sink, A SERIES CIRCUIT IS COMPLETED, and, without turning the hall switch for the light/fan on, the light and fan come on dimly. Because the bathroom is wired like old Christmas lights. And it is obviously a code violation.
And the other handyman is coming by tomorrow morning to take down the leaky bathroom ceiling, which maybe will help the wiring situation.
And he's going to look at the heater which should be working--not the boat heater, the house heater.
After all this apartment drama, this code-violation-tragicomedy, Noah and I look at each other and say, You know, there are lots of things I don't like about this apartment ... but I hate moving. And it is cheap. And it is in a great neighborhood, and there are chickens, and gardens, and basement storage, and it is painted in colors we like, and it's big enough ... So we might be here a while.
Yarn, right? And writing? And this editing? And on and on. Whatever. It is sunny out. You have no idea how rare that is.
11 January 2010
On Marriage
Oh, and I've been married for five years now. To Noah. He was 16 when we started dating; I was 17.
And it is awesome. Don't want to go on and on, but it is. Could not do life without you, Noah. Could not do it. Would not want to try.
To celebrate, we walked down the street to Sutra, a vegan supper club kind of place, which starts each seating by ringing a gong and thanking the farmers who grew the meal's ingredients. (Neither of us are vegan; I'm still vegetarian (a year now! longest ever so far!) but Noah loves steak and bacon.) We sat at the bar, facing our dreadlocked sous chef, talking about the kombucha we were having with the first course (they offer a n/a pairing along with a wine pairing, and we both were feeling the n/a--an option I'm really pleased they had). Kombucha, or, as we proceeded to call it, the Booch.
I wanted to share the menu with you. There are few menus these days that I read and say, I don't know how to cook that. This menu, I read and thought, I don't want to try. I just want them to feed me. How often does someone else feed me top-notch vegan food? Dream away:
First Course
Celery Root, Leek, Tarragon Soup served with a Sorrel-Cara Cara Orange-Black Radish Salad and finished with a Sesame Seed Crisp
Second Course
Sunchoke, Smoked Beluga Lentil Cake, with a Honey Crisp Apple-D’anjou Pear–Yellow Beet–Chile Compote Finished with a Balsamic Reduction and Truffle Oil
Third Course
Hedgehog-Trumpet Mushroom, Roasted Cauliflower, Tonnemaker Pumpkin and Basil Mung Been Crepes served with a Roasted White Carrots, Steamed Lacinato Kale, and a Porcini-Almond-Marjoram Sauce
Fourth Course
Chocolate Ganache Torte with a Crystallized Ginger, Raw Cacao, Pistachio Crust with a Wild Foraged Blackberry Glaze
The torte was INCREDIBLE. I will be trying to recreate it for sure. Giant vegan ganache on top of all that, with a blackberry glaze? Amazing.
And then we listened to the mix CD we made for our wedding guests, as a favor, and danced in our living room.
And it is awesome. Don't want to go on and on, but it is. Could not do life without you, Noah. Could not do it. Would not want to try.
To celebrate, we walked down the street to Sutra, a vegan supper club kind of place, which starts each seating by ringing a gong and thanking the farmers who grew the meal's ingredients. (Neither of us are vegan; I'm still vegetarian (a year now! longest ever so far!) but Noah loves steak and bacon.) We sat at the bar, facing our dreadlocked sous chef, talking about the kombucha we were having with the first course (they offer a n/a pairing along with a wine pairing, and we both were feeling the n/a--an option I'm really pleased they had). Kombucha, or, as we proceeded to call it, the Booch.
I wanted to share the menu with you. There are few menus these days that I read and say, I don't know how to cook that. This menu, I read and thought, I don't want to try. I just want them to feed me. How often does someone else feed me top-notch vegan food? Dream away:
First Course
Celery Root, Leek, Tarragon Soup served with a Sorrel-Cara Cara Orange-Black Radish Salad and finished with a Sesame Seed Crisp
Second Course
Sunchoke, Smoked Beluga Lentil Cake, with a Honey Crisp Apple-D’anjou Pear–Yellow Beet–Chile Compote Finished with a Balsamic Reduction and Truffle Oil
Third Course
Hedgehog-Trumpet Mushroom, Roasted Cauliflower, Tonnemaker Pumpkin and Basil Mung Been Crepes served with a Roasted White Carrots, Steamed Lacinato Kale, and a Porcini-Almond-Marjoram Sauce
Fourth Course
Chocolate Ganache Torte with a Crystallized Ginger, Raw Cacao, Pistachio Crust with a Wild Foraged Blackberry Glaze
The torte was INCREDIBLE. I will be trying to recreate it for sure. Giant vegan ganache on top of all that, with a blackberry glaze? Amazing.
And then we listened to the mix CD we made for our wedding guests, as a favor, and danced in our living room.
Or, The Lack of a Christmas Miracle (in Regards to Heat)
No heat yet. So that is that. Of course, it is 49 degrees out, right now, so the need for heat is not the same as it was. Still, it is cold inside. I'm wearing two hoodies right now. No joke: a microfleece hoodie of mine and a giant cotton sweatshirt hoodie of Noah's.
Also I have worn through the sole of one of my down booties, and broken up the elastic tie that closes them at the ankles, and so I am contemplating getting new booties. I'm on pair 3; that would make new ones pair 4. Of the last nine years. I wore through pair 1 quickly, but they were more decorative than hard-working; pair 2 was lost, at the same time that I lost a knee-length wool coat; and here we are with pair 3.
I recently asked some folks via Facebook for book recommendations; you all delivered. I thank and thank you.
I am editing; I am editing in a blitz of editing. I took on two clients each with a 200-page manuscript due at approximately the same time, though the times have staggered a bit now. Then I had no usable computer for editing with Dragon. Then I had another solution with no internet access. Then I had a final solution, a new PC, but no Windows 7 (for a few days). Then I had them all but was quite ill with the Winter Cold of Aught Nine, as it will go down; the cold I had then the cold Noah brought back then the cold we shared between us for two weeks.
Now I am better and editing, editing. I feel smarter, having not done any editing for a while (since May for freelance and August for the job)--like my brain is turned back on. And though I am good at it, I keep thinking, man, I don't love doing this. I do not love it. I don't hate it, really, but ... fixing citations, converting citation styles, weighing in on others' arguments, looking up whether "at risk youth" or "at-risk youth" is more commonly used (go with the hyphen, btw) ... fixing someone else's writing tics ... part of the frustration definitely comes with needing to do a lot of editing quickly, but well. Doing a lot slowly is better, since my brain just falls out of my head at some point and I end up having trouble using keyboard shortcuts for italics (this happened last night: I ended up highlighting text and aiming for ctrl+I, but hitting shift+I instead, and wondering, where did my text go and why is a capital I here instead?).
However, I am a great editor. A GREAT editor. But I was a good teacher too. And I'm a good artist. And, for the record, I was all right as a violist. A good baker and cook too. But what do I love to do? What would I choose to do? Here in the free world of near-limitless choices, here in Seattle, the land of rain?
I'll think it over as I finish a chapter today.
Also I have worn through the sole of one of my down booties, and broken up the elastic tie that closes them at the ankles, and so I am contemplating getting new booties. I'm on pair 3; that would make new ones pair 4. Of the last nine years. I wore through pair 1 quickly, but they were more decorative than hard-working; pair 2 was lost, at the same time that I lost a knee-length wool coat; and here we are with pair 3.
I recently asked some folks via Facebook for book recommendations; you all delivered. I thank and thank you.
I am editing; I am editing in a blitz of editing. I took on two clients each with a 200-page manuscript due at approximately the same time, though the times have staggered a bit now. Then I had no usable computer for editing with Dragon. Then I had another solution with no internet access. Then I had a final solution, a new PC, but no Windows 7 (for a few days). Then I had them all but was quite ill with the Winter Cold of Aught Nine, as it will go down; the cold I had then the cold Noah brought back then the cold we shared between us for two weeks.
Now I am better and editing, editing. I feel smarter, having not done any editing for a while (since May for freelance and August for the job)--like my brain is turned back on. And though I am good at it, I keep thinking, man, I don't love doing this. I do not love it. I don't hate it, really, but ... fixing citations, converting citation styles, weighing in on others' arguments, looking up whether "at risk youth" or "at-risk youth" is more commonly used (go with the hyphen, btw) ... fixing someone else's writing tics ... part of the frustration definitely comes with needing to do a lot of editing quickly, but well. Doing a lot slowly is better, since my brain just falls out of my head at some point and I end up having trouble using keyboard shortcuts for italics (this happened last night: I ended up highlighting text and aiming for ctrl+I, but hitting shift+I instead, and wondering, where did my text go and why is a capital I here instead?).
However, I am a great editor. A GREAT editor. But I was a good teacher too. And I'm a good artist. And, for the record, I was all right as a violist. A good baker and cook too. But what do I love to do? What would I choose to do? Here in the free world of near-limitless choices, here in Seattle, the land of rain?
I'll think it over as I finish a chapter today.
29 December 2009
A Christmas Miracle
Our landlord just said, yes, okay, call the handyman and ask him to fix the main heater, the one that was designed to be used in a home and has the potential ability to actually maintain 65 in all livable rooms in your apartment.
IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! A few days late, yes. But wheee! We were rereading Seattle Tenant Law last night and were just about resigned to getting an estimate on fixing the heater, notifying the landlord of the estimate, paying for it ourselves, and deducting it from the rent (because you can do that here, which is pretty cool). But this is what I really wanted--for him to pay for it.
Other Christmas happenings/miracles: great dinner with Noah's aunt and uncle; recurrent chest colds for both of us; great time with Seth; great video chats with family on the 25th; a Kindle; waltzing lessons with Noah; an upcoming trip to Vancouver, WA to visit with Noah's older brother and family for a day or two, since they're visiting our sister-in-law's family there; a visit from our friend CJ, who drove the bus Noah lived on for most of the three years he lived on it, who is now a pilot in Alaska and has amazing photos of Alaska that make me want to go there; and ... I'm sure there's more, but those are the main ones.
Now that we're both recovering from our colds--still sick but able to stand up and walk around--a kitchen full of disaster awaits us. Hooray. And more editing awaits me, which is just fine. And a million loads of laundry and lots of other housecleaning and all that. Yay for the new portable dishwasher!
IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! A few days late, yes. But wheee! We were rereading Seattle Tenant Law last night and were just about resigned to getting an estimate on fixing the heater, notifying the landlord of the estimate, paying for it ourselves, and deducting it from the rent (because you can do that here, which is pretty cool). But this is what I really wanted--for him to pay for it.
Other Christmas happenings/miracles: great dinner with Noah's aunt and uncle; recurrent chest colds for both of us; great time with Seth; great video chats with family on the 25th; a Kindle; waltzing lessons with Noah; an upcoming trip to Vancouver, WA to visit with Noah's older brother and family for a day or two, since they're visiting our sister-in-law's family there; a visit from our friend CJ, who drove the bus Noah lived on for most of the three years he lived on it, who is now a pilot in Alaska and has amazing photos of Alaska that make me want to go there; and ... I'm sure there's more, but those are the main ones.
Now that we're both recovering from our colds--still sick but able to stand up and walk around--a kitchen full of disaster awaits us. Hooray. And more editing awaits me, which is just fine. And a million loads of laundry and lots of other housecleaning and all that. Yay for the new portable dishwasher!
20 December 2009
Thriftiness
Noah is back! And how wonderful it is to be together again. We haven't been apart that long since he went to Japan for six weeks in 2006. Together, together, together. I will say it is weird having him in the apartment after being here alone for that long--whose dirty dishes are those? Who ate all the cereal?
I am still sick, or sick again, it doesn't matter which. Focusing on moving past it, which involves sleeping 12 hours a night and feeling lightheaded for a good part of the day and coughing until my chest hurts. Please, echinacea tea, make me well again. Please, green soup with ginger and sweet potatoes, heal me.
Our new PC is here, and tomorrow we should have Windows 7 from Seth for a decent price, and I will actually do some editing for the two clients I have with manuscripts of the same length (200 pages), due the same time, in mid-January. I may disappear after tomorrow for a while, surface for Christmas, disappear, surface for New Year's, disappear, surface for my FIVE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY, and ... hopefully be close to done. It isn't that much editing, really, since I am not working any other jobs. And I can probably average 5 pages an hour. So, 80 hours worth? I will make the deadline for both of them.
Remember my repetitive stress injury? And my worker's compensation claim? It is settled, 1.25 years later, I have the check, I am depositing it, and that is done. If only I was healed all the way. Still, it is enough money to start the yarn-dyeing business and to throw some serious money at whichever student loan I choose. For that I am thankful. I am also thankful that I have less constant pain now that I ever have since the injury, that I'm more aware of how to manage the pain, what to avoid, what I can do. What I can't do. I had some really amazing occupational therapists to get here, and I am most thankful for them. The lawyer, eh. The doctors, no. But Becky the therapist, yes.
And so, in the middle of this, our new life here in Seattle, we are making enough money to get by without trouble, but we want to pay off all of our loans as quickly as possible while rebuilding our savings that have been totally depleted by leaving Urbana in August and moving to Seattle in November. And trying to set aside money for things like our car which will inevitably die some day and need to be replaced, and how great would it be to buy our next car flat-out in cash, like we did this one because of Noah's careful planning, and not have payments? And set aside money for a house? A house, here in Seattle, where houses in my current neighborhood start at 300k? And the fixer-uppers start at 150k and are described as "needing new plumbing and being stripped down to the studs"? I am handy but that kind of house ... that is a lot of work.
But what I came here to write about is cooking, and eating, for less money, but cooking and eating well.
Ideas:
--use this woman's meal plans--they seem a little boring, but I can use her plans and sub in my favorite recipes with the same ideas, with the goal of feeding the two of us for about $200 a month
--make bread at home, since I love making bread and homemade bread is delicious
--make yogurt at home, in the crock pot?! That's revolutionary.
--make our own cleaning products when possible, with vinegar, baking soda, and a basic degreaser like castile soap, and maybe essential oils that I already have
Now, don't get me wrong--we're planning on buying an LCD TV that is somewhere between 32" and 40" sometime soon. But being thrifty some places means we can spend in other places, right?
On to knitting for Christmas!!
I am still sick, or sick again, it doesn't matter which. Focusing on moving past it, which involves sleeping 12 hours a night and feeling lightheaded for a good part of the day and coughing until my chest hurts. Please, echinacea tea, make me well again. Please, green soup with ginger and sweet potatoes, heal me.
Our new PC is here, and tomorrow we should have Windows 7 from Seth for a decent price, and I will actually do some editing for the two clients I have with manuscripts of the same length (200 pages), due the same time, in mid-January. I may disappear after tomorrow for a while, surface for Christmas, disappear, surface for New Year's, disappear, surface for my FIVE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY, and ... hopefully be close to done. It isn't that much editing, really, since I am not working any other jobs. And I can probably average 5 pages an hour. So, 80 hours worth? I will make the deadline for both of them.
Remember my repetitive stress injury? And my worker's compensation claim? It is settled, 1.25 years later, I have the check, I am depositing it, and that is done. If only I was healed all the way. Still, it is enough money to start the yarn-dyeing business and to throw some serious money at whichever student loan I choose. For that I am thankful. I am also thankful that I have less constant pain now that I ever have since the injury, that I'm more aware of how to manage the pain, what to avoid, what I can do. What I can't do. I had some really amazing occupational therapists to get here, and I am most thankful for them. The lawyer, eh. The doctors, no. But Becky the therapist, yes.
And so, in the middle of this, our new life here in Seattle, we are making enough money to get by without trouble, but we want to pay off all of our loans as quickly as possible while rebuilding our savings that have been totally depleted by leaving Urbana in August and moving to Seattle in November. And trying to set aside money for things like our car which will inevitably die some day and need to be replaced, and how great would it be to buy our next car flat-out in cash, like we did this one because of Noah's careful planning, and not have payments? And set aside money for a house? A house, here in Seattle, where houses in my current neighborhood start at 300k? And the fixer-uppers start at 150k and are described as "needing new plumbing and being stripped down to the studs"? I am handy but that kind of house ... that is a lot of work.
But what I came here to write about is cooking, and eating, for less money, but cooking and eating well.
Ideas:
--use this woman's meal plans--they seem a little boring, but I can use her plans and sub in my favorite recipes with the same ideas, with the goal of feeding the two of us for about $200 a month
--make bread at home, since I love making bread and homemade bread is delicious
--make yogurt at home, in the crock pot?! That's revolutionary.
--make our own cleaning products when possible, with vinegar, baking soda, and a basic degreaser like castile soap, and maybe essential oils that I already have
Now, don't get me wrong--we're planning on buying an LCD TV that is somewhere between 32" and 40" sometime soon. But being thrifty some places means we can spend in other places, right?
On to knitting for Christmas!!
14 December 2009
Guess What? Still Cold
If you are in my family or follow me on Facebook, you already know that my apartment is inadequately heated with 1) a gas heater that hasn't worked in two years, 2) a gas heater that was intended for use on a boat, 3) an electric/ceramic space heater that works well but can only heat a room at a time, and 4) an oil/electric space heater that just doesn't do much. Add to it an old, lathe-and-plaster house that probably isn't insulated at all, old drafty windows, old drafty door with an open gap under the door, in the sill, that leads down into who knows where, a back room that is falling away from the house at maybe a 5 degree angle, leaving a one-inch gap between house wall and room wall, and a two-inch gap in one of the windows that won't close because the room is so out of plumb.
So it's cold. Yeah. Colder than 60 when I wake up, maybe getting up to 65 or 67 on a sunny day in the main room, with both heaters on, with the room totally closed off from the rest of the apartment (which makes the bathroom cold, kitchen cold, hallway cold, office/back room cold, bedroom cold). Cold cold cold.
And I am used to cold. Iowa. Central Illinois. I lived in a turn-of-the-century house in Iowa for a year with four windows in my dorm room (beautiful), and I had a travel alarm clock with a digital thermometer, so I always knew my room was 64 or 66 degrees in all of January when I was taking an American literature survey (month-long class) and reading, literally, 8 hours a day, 200-400 pages a day. I spent the whole month in my down sleeping bag on the couch in my room, reaching out to my electric kettle to boil more water for more tea.
In Illinois almost three years ago, we had a blizzard and campus closed for two days. Something like 15 inches of snow in two days? Last winter, the temperature didn't break 15 for at least a month, maybe a month and a half. One day the high was 0 degrees, and I drove to work, amazed that my little Civic started, made it to work, made it home. That was really cold. The kind of cold that you walk out in and scream as you run to the building, then wish you'd closed your mouth because now your mouth is really cold.
But this cold, in Seattle? Outside it is not so cold at all. 38 or so right now. But inside it is not even 30 degrees warmer. And that is frustrating.
I wrote my landlord a huge email, quoting the Seattle building code's requirements that permanently installed heaters (which is only my boat heater) must maintain an average temperature of 65 in all livable rooms. Ha! Ha ha. I can barely maintain 65 in one room with the two heaters going. And that means all other rooms are 62, 60, 57, 54 or so.
So there's a lot of hat-wearing, fingerless-mitt wearing, technical hiking gear wearing (Patagonia capilene tops and bottoms, fleece jackets, down-filled booties). And a lot of thinking about residual heat from my stove, range, and bathtub water. (I have to bake cookies, right?) A lot of tea drinking. A lot of brainstorming ways to get out of the house and go somewhere else with better heating to thaw for a while.
And Noah is out of town--has been for a week, will get home on Friday night. So it is cold and a little lonely too.
But! Fear not! Seattle is awesome. It is just my landlord that is terrible.
Seattle, home of excellent Thai food everywhere I go, the best coffee I've ever had, a wonderful neighborhood that I'd like to live in forever (Wallingford! Or Green Lake! not sure which one I'm technically in), nice people, and absolutely gorgeous. This town does not hold the title of prettiest place I've ever lived (hello Tetons--that is the view from the part of the park I lived in), but it is indeed a close second. And the artisanal ice cream available does put its total score of awesome a little higher, in a way.
The chickens? I love them. The yard, the gardens, the layout of my apartment, the clawfoot tub (best baths of my LIFE, I am never going to shower here, bath only forever), the giant kitchen, the view of the Olympics from my windows, etc.
But I miss my family, and my friends, and I miss knowing how people drive (hard to put a finger on, but it is quite different here). I miss knowing how to get somewhere without using my GPS. And I think we moved here at the worst time of year, in terms of enjoying Seattle. Everyone we meet is like, Don't believe the weather is always this bad! This is the worst it's been in years, YEARS! Like they have forgotten the blizzard they had last year that caused two buses to dangle off a bridge.
I remember the stories of that storm, how Microsoft told Seth and all other employees to work from home, and then they all logged on to their remote server at once, and they crashed their servers. All of them. For the whole day. Oh, Microsoft.
Noah is liking Accenture, what he's learned of them so far, at least. He's doing a lot of training that seems newer to everyone else but replicates things he's already done before. Good job, Illinois and Noah. His trainers put him and other new hires in a mock client interview to gather specs for a new project, and the other five new hires had never done that kind of interview before. And I guess, they are new hires, they are also fresh from school, but Illinois had Noah doing that for his senior design project and then deliver a completely implementable solution to the problem. Perhaps Illinois is as good at training engineers as they think they are.
Noah's wardrobe is quite different now, though--Accenture requires business casual that is basically anything up to a suit without a tie. So, dress shoes, dress slacks or suit pants, button downs. We thought it would be suits, so he has suits and ties now, too. But, for me, this makes Noah the only person I'm related to directly who has ever worn suit clothes to work. My dad: jeans, Coveralls, work boots. My brother: navy Dockers to cover up all the oil stains. I guess other people wore nurses' uniforms. But I wore jeans and skirts and stuff, but suits? This is foreign.
And I am the girl who focused on textiles in her art degreee and didn't know how to iron. I scorched a lot of white t-shirts before my professor stopped me. Good times.
So, today? Freelance editing, hopefully, if it works on my now-dual-booted MacBook that starts up as a Windows machine, eliminating the virtualization that was killing Dragon NaturallySpeaking. Our new PC is coming sometime this week, though.
Editing, tomato sauce, maybe blanching carrots and kale to freeze, hopefully these cookies. And a walk to a coffee shop to thaw at some point.
So it's cold. Yeah. Colder than 60 when I wake up, maybe getting up to 65 or 67 on a sunny day in the main room, with both heaters on, with the room totally closed off from the rest of the apartment (which makes the bathroom cold, kitchen cold, hallway cold, office/back room cold, bedroom cold). Cold cold cold.
And I am used to cold. Iowa. Central Illinois. I lived in a turn-of-the-century house in Iowa for a year with four windows in my dorm room (beautiful), and I had a travel alarm clock with a digital thermometer, so I always knew my room was 64 or 66 degrees in all of January when I was taking an American literature survey (month-long class) and reading, literally, 8 hours a day, 200-400 pages a day. I spent the whole month in my down sleeping bag on the couch in my room, reaching out to my electric kettle to boil more water for more tea.
In Illinois almost three years ago, we had a blizzard and campus closed for two days. Something like 15 inches of snow in two days? Last winter, the temperature didn't break 15 for at least a month, maybe a month and a half. One day the high was 0 degrees, and I drove to work, amazed that my little Civic started, made it to work, made it home. That was really cold. The kind of cold that you walk out in and scream as you run to the building, then wish you'd closed your mouth because now your mouth is really cold.
But this cold, in Seattle? Outside it is not so cold at all. 38 or so right now. But inside it is not even 30 degrees warmer. And that is frustrating.
I wrote my landlord a huge email, quoting the Seattle building code's requirements that permanently installed heaters (which is only my boat heater) must maintain an average temperature of 65 in all livable rooms. Ha! Ha ha. I can barely maintain 65 in one room with the two heaters going. And that means all other rooms are 62, 60, 57, 54 or so.
So there's a lot of hat-wearing, fingerless-mitt wearing, technical hiking gear wearing (Patagonia capilene tops and bottoms, fleece jackets, down-filled booties). And a lot of thinking about residual heat from my stove, range, and bathtub water. (I have to bake cookies, right?) A lot of tea drinking. A lot of brainstorming ways to get out of the house and go somewhere else with better heating to thaw for a while.
And Noah is out of town--has been for a week, will get home on Friday night. So it is cold and a little lonely too.
But! Fear not! Seattle is awesome. It is just my landlord that is terrible.
Seattle, home of excellent Thai food everywhere I go, the best coffee I've ever had, a wonderful neighborhood that I'd like to live in forever (Wallingford! Or Green Lake! not sure which one I'm technically in), nice people, and absolutely gorgeous. This town does not hold the title of prettiest place I've ever lived (hello Tetons--that is the view from the part of the park I lived in), but it is indeed a close second. And the artisanal ice cream available does put its total score of awesome a little higher, in a way.
The chickens? I love them. The yard, the gardens, the layout of my apartment, the clawfoot tub (best baths of my LIFE, I am never going to shower here, bath only forever), the giant kitchen, the view of the Olympics from my windows, etc.
But I miss my family, and my friends, and I miss knowing how people drive (hard to put a finger on, but it is quite different here). I miss knowing how to get somewhere without using my GPS. And I think we moved here at the worst time of year, in terms of enjoying Seattle. Everyone we meet is like, Don't believe the weather is always this bad! This is the worst it's been in years, YEARS! Like they have forgotten the blizzard they had last year that caused two buses to dangle off a bridge.
I remember the stories of that storm, how Microsoft told Seth and all other employees to work from home, and then they all logged on to their remote server at once, and they crashed their servers. All of them. For the whole day. Oh, Microsoft.
Noah is liking Accenture, what he's learned of them so far, at least. He's doing a lot of training that seems newer to everyone else but replicates things he's already done before. Good job, Illinois and Noah. His trainers put him and other new hires in a mock client interview to gather specs for a new project, and the other five new hires had never done that kind of interview before. And I guess, they are new hires, they are also fresh from school, but Illinois had Noah doing that for his senior design project and then deliver a completely implementable solution to the problem. Perhaps Illinois is as good at training engineers as they think they are.
Noah's wardrobe is quite different now, though--Accenture requires business casual that is basically anything up to a suit without a tie. So, dress shoes, dress slacks or suit pants, button downs. We thought it would be suits, so he has suits and ties now, too. But, for me, this makes Noah the only person I'm related to directly who has ever worn suit clothes to work. My dad: jeans, Coveralls, work boots. My brother: navy Dockers to cover up all the oil stains. I guess other people wore nurses' uniforms. But I wore jeans and skirts and stuff, but suits? This is foreign.
And I am the girl who focused on textiles in her art degreee and didn't know how to iron. I scorched a lot of white t-shirts before my professor stopped me. Good times.
So, today? Freelance editing, hopefully, if it works on my now-dual-booted MacBook that starts up as a Windows machine, eliminating the virtualization that was killing Dragon NaturallySpeaking. Our new PC is coming sometime this week, though.
Editing, tomato sauce, maybe blanching carrots and kale to freeze, hopefully these cookies. And a walk to a coffee shop to thaw at some point.
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