dichroic: (oar asterisk)

Update: Whatever I did to my chest muscles this time, it either wasn’t the same thing as last time or was a lot less of a strain. That one lasted for weeks. This one just hurt Sunday and Monday, and was better yesterday. So I did a light erg piece – still seemed to be coughing a bit and it’s always hard to get onto the erg after a couple of days off, but I finished 5K, anyway. My plan is to erg either harder (interval pieces) or longer today – I haven’t decided which. Then I’ll try to do a strength and conditioning class tomorrow, work demands permitting.

We plan to head out to the lake house again this weekend since we can’t go next week, so hopefully I can get in some real rowing time. (Last week I only kayaked on Saturday – they were having dragboat races so I needed to go to the upper lake and I don’t like rowing there. Too many snags and shallow places.)

Also a cooking note: last night’s dinner was stuffed mushrooms, salad and sourdough bread – I stuffed cremini mushrooms with breadcrumbs, mushroom stems, garlic, leeks, parmegiano, and seasoning. I liked them, Ted said they were OK but wasn’t wildly enthusiastic. Next time I’d use less of the breadcrumbs and more of everything else. Last week’s new-recipe experiments succeeded better: We had Welsh rabbit one day and a wine/mushroom sauce over flatiron steak another day. The sauce was easy and very tasty – basically just saute mushrooms and scallions in about a half stick of melted butter, add a cup of wine, simmer until it reduces, then add another pat of butter and parsley at the end. The Welsh rabbit might be a better dinner for winter than summer, but it was taty and filling. We had lots of the sauce left over, so Ted used it to make homemade mac & cheese later in the week. That was OK, but needed more stuff in it than just sauce and noodles – even when we have the Kraft version, we add hotdogs!

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

I’m really missing the days when I blogged near-daily, and thus could go back and look up when everything happened in my life. (Also, I just learned that apparently my LJ hasn’t mirrored updates here since March due to plugin issues. Oops. Might need to handle that manually, if anybody is still there.)

This is mostly because it seems like I’ve been sick, or at least not-quite-well, all damn year. Some time in January I came down with a cold that lingered for about two weeks, then turned into bronchitis on the very day I was interviewing for my current job (you can imagine how much fun the interview was). The bronchitis was taken care of with antibiotics, but as it was ebbing I got a pain in my chest. No, not that kind of chest pain; it was right around where the left-tit underwire in a bra would be, and it hurt whenever I coughed or twisted. I was wondering about pleurisy, but the doctor concluded it was probably just a strained muscle, nothing to be done but rest it (not really possible, for a rib muscle, especially while coughing) and wait for it to heal.

Sometime in April or May I came down with another cold, but that one was mild and only lasted a few days. At a different time, I came up with a stiff neck – the kind where you can’t turn your head in one direction. That mostly resolved after a few days, but there’s still one particular spot on the right side of my neck that hurts it I stretch it at a certain angle.

Then in early June I cam up with yet another cold. This one was also mild, but it lasted for-bloody-ever, and the cough is aaaaalmost completely gone.

So here I am in mid-July, with a sore muscle in my neck, still coughing up stuff now and then. And yesterday (after yielding to Ted’s persuasion to try sleeping without a pillow, to see if it would hurt my neck) I woke up with another chest-muscle pain, this time on the right side. It’s not as bad as the left-side one was at its worst, but still hurts when I cough.

This is all tiny minor stuff, but it’s wreaked hell with my workout consistency for this year and it’s starting to just piss me off to feel that I haven’t been at 100% for months now. I’d see a doctor, but in my experience they’re not much good for small vague stuff.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

The Pioneer Woman’s wine/mushroom sauce: A++++, will make (and eat) again. As Ted pointed out, he rarely uses words like “Great” (he’s an Oregon native, but his mom grew up in the Midwest and it colors his speech) but he did this time. I used a red wine blend that was only OK at first and is left over from a week or so ago, but it was fine in the sauce. We had it over flatiron steak, which for some odd reason is much cheaper than flank steak in these parts (not true where my mom lives!).

The wine we drank with it was much better – a Syrah from Cana’s Feast. Most of the wineries around here focus on Pinot Noir, but Cana’s Feast also has a bunch of big reds. After three or four different chance-met strangers recommended the winery to us, we finally got around to it. We’ll definitely be buying more from them.

I’ve been rereading the Harry Potter series again, in honor of its 20th anniversary. This worked out very well for me when my Kindle’s touchscreen spontaneously died – because not only do I have the whole series in e-book (bought on sale cheap) but I have the UK editions at the Hillsboro house and the US hardbacks at the lake house. The Kindle was out of warranty but Amazon gave me a deep discount on a new one; however, it was very nice not to have to interrupt my reading until it got here.

I will have to decide, after Deathly Hallows, whether Cursed Child belongs in a reread of the series. I probably will, because I’ve only read it once, and it will be interesting to read it in proximity to the rest of the books instead of years apart. Might read Fantastic Beasts, too (I’ve only seen the movie, but a screenplay was published).

Work is still going well, though a bit quiet lately. It was too quiet for a week or so, but lately I’ve had interesting stuff to do but still enough time to hit the (on-site) gym. Nice. I would really like it if I can stay with this company until retirement.

Otherwise, not much going on.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

A bunch of little stuff

The family visit went well, and I think everyone enjoyed it. The 5yo only broke one thing in our non-child-proofed house, which seems reasonable. (A three-dimensional cat puzzle carved out of a single piece of wood. He’d been told to be careful with it; problem was, after the first time I let him play with it under supervision, he kept grabbing it to take apart and put back together, and wasn’t too good about not forcing pieces in when they didn’t fit quite right. I was able to fix the piece he broke to where it doesn’t show.) He also knocked a bunch of pieces I’d completed in a jigsaw puzzle off the table; I responded to that one with (intentionally) very loud shock, so that he definitely realized he’d done an upsetting thing. Overall, less damage and brattiness than I’d expected, and he kept seeking us out so even when he clearly felt in disgrace for doing a Bad Thing, he knew he wasn’t being outcast and that we weren’t being mean to him. (In fact, at one point I took him aside for a private, quiet, and Very Serious talk about how hurtful it was when he ignored his bubbe, my mom, for the shiny fun new people around. Not sure that one made an impression, but maybe. He got a little caught up in explaining how it “hurts his heart” if people are mean to him or ignore him – it wasn’t clear if that translated to how other people feel when he ignores them. But hey, five years old. I always figure something that didn’t make sense at the time might recur to him later on.)

I still have scars on my hand and knee from when I tripped on uneven sidewalk, ‘racing’ with him. He wanted to race everywhere – I did more running that week than I normally do in a year. I did think it spoke well for his compassion that he was willing to go home and not do the fun things we’d planned to do in the park, when I was all bloody – lucky the park bathroom was open and I had a bandaid, so we didn’t have to abort our plans.

The sad part of the visit was seeing how old Mom has gotten, not in looks but behavior and abilities. She fell twice in airports on the way home. In many ways, her independent living center has been wonderful for her. But she’s on the young side for the place, and she’s a bit of a sponge, picking up ideas from people around her; I think being around people a decade or two older all the time has aged her perceptions of her own capabilities, and that’s definitely an area where perception is reality.


Random other thoughts and happenings:

Yesterday my company had Holocaust survivor Alter Wiener speak. It was a good and moving talk – I’d called in, instead of driving to the site he spoke at, and bought his book on Amazon before the speech was even over. My favorite part of the speech was a quote from Voltaire: “Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.” Pretty perceptive for a guy who died a few years before the French Revolution. (However, I can’t help thinking that a name like Alter Wiener is just begging for a bilingual Yiddish-English pun. (I had a vague memeory and looked it up – Alter, meaning ‘old’, was a Yiddish name given to sickly babies in the hopes of confusing the Angel of Death. As my husband pointed out, given that more old people die, the logic there is not entirely clear.))

***

Gap seems to be delving into their archives for designs lately – just recently I’ve bought new versions of my favorite dress from the 90s (though the fabric has changed a bit) and my favorite henley shirt from the 80s. So anyone who still misses a beloved item of clothing that you outgrew or outwore, that happened to be from the Gap, might want to go take a look.

***

Still enjoying the new job. For a while there things were going too slowly as I waited for my projects to really get started, but as of yesterday that doesn’t seem to be a problem any more. Rather the opposite – which is good. Still, if I ever get as busy as Ted is, for more than a short while – someone please shoot me. (He works 6:30 AM to 6 or 7 most nights, plus additional work on weekends. Bloody ridiculous.)

***

Having a gym at the job is definitely upping my exercise intensity, not to mention lots more walking and stair climbing. However, so far I’ve been working here going on two months and the only change I’ve seen is that maybe my calves are a little more defined. (We’ll see how well I can continue with the gym classes I’ve been taking as my job heats up – but having the gym right here means that even if I miss a specific class, I can go any time I’m free.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

There’s a Facebook meme going around lately that’s bugging me. It says “I don’t want to feed hungry children so they’ll do better in school. I just want to feed them because they’re hungry.” I think it’s supposed to show the compassion of the poster, because they’re all about feeding the hungry instead of worrying about outcomes, or something. Like so many FB memes, it’s ridiculously oversimplified – as if you could only have one reason for feeding a hungry child.

The thing is, if you feed a child today, she’ll be hungry again tomorrow. It’s a bandage, not a long-term healing. I don’t say that to deride bandages – without them you can bleed to death before any healing occurs. Acute problems need immediate actions to give you time to ceate a systemic fix. But if you only apply that bandage, then you’ve still got the main problem – a child who isn’t getting fed at home.

On the other hand, if you feed that child today, and again tomorrow, and the next day, and the rest of the term, he’s got a reason to keep coming to school and the resources to pay attention once he’s there. If you keep feeding her as long as she needs it, she’s got more reason to stay in school.

Maybe that kid will grow up to be Ray Fields. Ray was probably the most financially successful person I knew growing up – he started a grocery store, built it into a small chain, and eventually sold the chain to Safeway. he still lived on our block because he liked it, but drove a nice car and wintered in Florida. He was a happy man, I think, with a stable marriage, a son he got along with and eventually two beautiful granddaughters. He was also a good man and a wise one; everybody on the block liked hanging out and talking to him, because he was always interesting and interested in you. He told me once that school lunch was sometimes the only good meal he got in a day, growing up during the Depression, and that it was the main reason he and his brother went to school.

Or maybe that kid won’t be Ray Fields. Maybe he’ll just be a kid who doesn’t drop out of high school, and who doesn’t have all the later health issues that childhood malnutrition can lead to. That’s still a pretty good outcome – and one that will help the kid earn enough of a living that she and her own kids won’t go hungry in the future.

So one school meal feeds a hungry kid so he isn’t hungry anymore, and a whole program of them can change lives and improve society. It’s both a bandage and a long-term solution. Pretty good for an intervention that isn’t even all that expensive (compared to, say, sending 100 Secret Service agents to Aspen and getting them skis). I agree that helping a hungry kid to not be hungry anymore is a worthy goal; I just don’t think it’s any reason to scoff at the long-term benefits of that school lunch.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

My birthday Friday was good but unremarkable. At work, I started doing some actual useful things and joined a small weightlifting class in the gym that was actually pretty good. In the evening there was the monthly Chardon-knitting (which is where you drink wine and try not to screw up your knitting) at my LYS. I brought Prosecco and Tina, the LYSO, provided a delicious marionberry pie. The Prosecco itself has a story; because I had the gym class at 11 in building 2 and another meeting at 1 in building 3 and there’s a cafeteria in building 3, I brought my laptop and wallet with me to the gym so I could get lunch in between and didn’t have to go all the way back to my desk in building 4 (they’re all connected, but the distances are much farther than those sequential numbers make them sound). Unfortunately I forgot to take my wallet out of my gym bag and put it back in my purse afterward, a fact I realized just when I went to pay for the Prosecco. And the woman in front of me in line insisted on paying for it – she didn’t even ask first how much it was. Luckily I had a $14 bottle, not a $40 one! Of course she had no way of knowing it was my birthday and a milestone one at that, but I promptly told her so she’d feel even better about her kind gesture. And I guess I have a favor to pay forward now.

I didn’t have any presents to open – maybe that’s just a fact of adulthood, because it wasn’t that people didn’t care. A couple of people made donations in my name to organizations I care about (which has the major advantage of not having to find house room for more stuff!); my mom is trying to get something online but seems to be having technical difficulties; and Ted’s gift will be a wine-tasting trip to McMinnville next weekend.

Yesterday I did get a good gift – I got Ted back home! (He was only gone a week, but he had business travel on three out of the previous four weeks.) And yesterday afternoon I did something I hadn’t done in a while and got out my beading supplies. So here are a selection of recent objects, finished and otherwise. All photos taken with my iPhone, a few with a macro lens from Photojojo added.

Earrings – only the spotted ones are new; the rest are pairs I’d made a while ago, where I’d lost one and have just made a replacement. (A major advantage to making your own jewelry!)

I made this treasure necklace a long time ago, but it had broken – I restrung it and added a few new items:

Then there’s the knitting. First, socks: there are the self-patterning socks, of which I knit most of the first one while helping out at the LYS during the recent yarn crawl and am still early on the second one; plus the purple two-at-a-time pair I started months ago, that keep getting pushed aside for other projects:

There’s also the Rogue sweater, which has the body and most of one sleeve done; a linen-stitch Moebius cowl made from various leftover sock yarn; and a hat I finished back in January. Not shown are two pink pussy hats I made for friends and a baby hat for a pregnant former coworker.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

upcoming

Mar. 4th, 2017 04:55 pm
dichroic: (oar asterisk)

Gonna be a hell of a week.

This morning Ted left for Taiwan.

Tomorrow I’ll be volunteering at my local yarn shop all day – last day of the Rose City Yarn Crawl.

Monday I start the new job.

Friday I turn 50.

And Saturday Ted returns.

I’m lucky the Yarn Crawl is this weekend – I volunteered yesterday too, and though it was a bit claustrophobic spending all day in the back room, I enjoyed being social for a change. I spent today at the Portland Art Museum. Years ago I went to the Portland Craft Museum, and spent the day in great company but hated the actual museum, which is probably why never got to this one before, but I liked the Art Museum as much as I despised the Craft Museum. It didn’t hurt that they were having a Rodin exhibit. And the birthday alone won’t be as bad as it sounds, because Friday night is Chardon-knitting back at the LYS, and Ted and I will celebrate the weekend after.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

After reading the latest of Ben Aaronovitch’s Peter Grant books, The Hanging, Tree, I started over from the beginning of the series to refresh my memory of the details, and also because it got me thinking. In this series, which is written in the first person, Aaronovitch does a thing that’s rare in US and UK fiction: every time Peter Grant meets someone new, he mentions their race or ethnicity in his description – including if they’re white. This makes sense: Grant himself is not white and neither is his London. It’s a diverse place and assuming any sort of ‘default’ human would just be silly. Another thing Aaronovitch does well: Grant is mixed race, and his mom is not generic African; she is Fulani, from Sierra Leone, and this shapes who she is and thus who her son is. (His dad’s most salient defining feature is not his ethnicity, but his musical genre: jazz.)

But because of all that, and because of the way Aaronovitch reflects England’s current population into its traditional mythology, he solves a wider problem for me. A lot of American Anglophiles have sort of a cognitive disconnect: this might not be a problem for those whose thing is Swinging London and Mod fashion, but if what you get off on is Sherlock Holmes and his gasogene, or Lord Peter and his brother planting oaks; or if you’re a mad partison of York vs Lancaster; if you find the Cavaliers Wrong but Wromantic; if you’re still rooting for Hereward and his Saxons against the Normans; or wondering what it would take to wake Arthus if WWII didn’t do it; then you’ve got a bit of a problem. Because however much you think there’ll always be an England, it’s plain that the England you see today is a different place – and not in a bad way. So there’s a cognitive dissonance, because on the one hand you can applaud the NHS and the vibrance of today’s England, you can be wondering if the heart of Logres still beats, if Kipling’s Puck is still there and feeling nostalgia for a magic that is so pervasive in fiction that it must have existed, at least a little.

(Maybe I should be saying “London”, more specifically, since that’s specifically where the Peter Grant series centers, and because all that diversity still centers in the cities, though it’s changing some.)

Grant reconciles those two worlds; in fact, he does what England has always done with its waves of invaders, settlers or refugees. The land absorbs the newcomers and doesn’t close over them, but adds their weave into its tapestry. Maybe that should have been completely obvious, but since the last major one wave of incomers was a thousand years ago, it wasn’t clear if that would still work, but in Aaronovitch’s England it does – fortunately involving a lot less sheer misery than the Norman conquest. The clearest example is the parallel river spirits, though to avoid spoilers I can’t go into more detail.

And clearly I am a hopeless Anglogeekiphile because that disconnect was something that always troubled me in the back of my mind, so this all actually makes me feel a bit better.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

This is my last week at this job. I’m taking bets on whether there will be a going-away lunch or drink – I’d give about 70% odds against. I’m not taking it personally; when our well-liked previous admin left, there wouldn’t have been one if I hadn’t pushed her boss into it. Since my own boss is halfway across the country (and didn’t say much of a goodbye when she left at the end of her visit last week) I doubt it will happen. That feeling of isolation is one of my least favorite things about working here. On the other hand, a few people including one of the senior managers have gone out of their way to tell me I’ll be missed, and I’d probably prefer that to any other kind of farewell.

I have clearly been thoroughly replaced on the family front, anyway. When my mom gave my SIL tulips for Valentines’ Day and not even a card for me, she probably wasn’t thinking about the fact that my SIL lives her life on Facebook and I’d see it. (More probably she was thinking that Ted and I never do much for V-Day and I always forget to send her – my mom- a card though she often sends me one, while my brother and SIL do make a big deal of it.) Anyway, because I am not a saint, I had to give Mom a little bit of a hard time the next time I spoke to her, and she said something about “Well, I just decided to because Vicki hasn’t been feeling well.” It wasn’t until well after we’d hung up that I realized the irony – given that Mom was calling to see how I was, since I’d had some lingering symptoms after being sick for a solid month! (In fact, I had a doctor’s appt the next day – she thinks my soreness in the rib area when I cough is a sprain rather than pleurisy, and said I should probably rest it as far as possible and not row for a while.)

You’d have to know my mother to understand why “being replaced” is actually a joke, not an awful hurtful thing. She operates very much on a principle of out of sight, out of mind – for instance, wanting to know I’ve arrived safely if I’m coming home from visiting her, but not for any other travels. Remembering to call because I’ve been sick is a statement of love because it’s going outside the boundaries of how she normally thinks

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

dichroic: (oar asterisk)

There are some goals you get to by leaps and bounds (for instance, if you’d always wanted to travel abroad and then you did). There are some goals you work at for a while and then finish, like getting a driving or pilot’s license or writing a book – those are harder. And then there are the ones you work on forever, being excited to reach new levels. Maybe that’s the number of books you’ve read in your lifetime, or growing your hair out to knee-length. Some of those get less exciting as you get further along – reaching 50 professional publications is probably not more exciting than reaching 30. Some get more so – it’s probably more exciting to see your net worth hit $100,000 than $100. (Or maybe not, if it was negative for a long time and this is your first $100 in the black.)

With those accretive goals, I think they are even more satisfying when they’re ones you’ve reached entirely on your own efforts. Or maybe not entirely – if you bike a million lifetime miles, clearly you’re helped out by the people who made the bike, the people who built the road, and especially the person who watched the kids while you were putting in some of those miles. Still, every one of those miles went by through your peddling alone. It’s an entirely subjective thing in which others will disagree with me, but I think the achievement of that solo goal is more satisfying than covering those same miles on a tandem bike. (Teamwork has pleasures too, just slightly different ones.)

I’ve got a couple goals of that kind in which I should be able to reach milestone levels within a few months for one, years for the other. One is financial and I hope to get there within a couple years: this is a milestone Ted and I reached together a while back, but getting to that same point entirely on my own is going to be a pure and peculiar satisfaction. (I’m sure some other people feel the same, but and equally sure others don’t – for instance, couples who pool all of their money don’t reach solo financial goals, and presumably decide it’s not something they care much about – or that they care less about than other goals that are better served by completely merged finances.)

The other one is about erging; I’m up to 14,916,498 kilometers on the erg, lifetime. I’m up to a lot more than that in all forms of rowing, including erging, rowing a single, rowing in bigger boats, etc. but the erging is all me, every single meter cranked out by my body. I would have already hit 15 million by now, if not for illness – and now it’s been postponed further, because the doctor says that pain when I cough is a sprained rib and I should avoid rowing or other upper-body exercise. (Unfortunate, since my main alternate would be walking / hiking and it’s too wet to make that pleasant.) But I will get there sometime in the next few months, and when I do, the prizes Concept 2 sends out for milestone distances will be nothing compared to the satisfaction of getting there.

Mirrored from Dichroic Reflections.

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