Or perhaps I'm just transparent. Or stuck in a rut, or a downward spiral, or some kind of self-fulfilling predestination. Whatever it is, I loved, loved, loved the movie "He's Just Not That Into You." Best chick flick I've seen in years.

The sad thing is, I am now in the not-so-predictable (at least, to me) position of identifying with the supposedly slutty character the most.

Okay, I really see myself as a mixture between the idealistic, upbeat, naive girl and the sleeps-with-everyone-too-fast, clearly-just-being-used-for-sex girl. I think that's the difference between who I was and who I seem to have become over the past couple of years. The difference between me and the slut girl is I still have some limits on lines I will cross (namely, adultery.) Oh, and that I'm not nearly as young and sexy as Scarlett Johansson, but am the middle-aged, out-of-shape equivalent of the slut girl.

Who is this person? How did I go from being the last of my friends to lose their virginity to being someone who sleeps with male friends because it just seems like a good idea at the time? I know a lot of this is stress-related, but I seem to have lost some core part of myself. I think it's that I've given up the idea of ever finding a relationship that works for me.

That's a sad change, and one I would not have predicted for myself. On the other hand, I can see from very early days the seeds of this new me. Somehow, I was never taught or learned any relationship skills. The fact that this silly movie seemed to offer any pearls of wisdom is just pathetic.

I could really get down on myself right now if I wanted to evaluate where I am spiritually with all this behavior. But I think the biggest problem here is something I used to hear called "a sin against hope." (Turns out that's a St. Thomas of Aquinas phrase; I'll have to go read up on it.) The fact that I have no hope that things will change or that I can change them is somehow a crisis of faith.

Maybe I should start saying the Serenity Prayer to myself on a regular basis. Maybe an hourly one.

Back in the day, when Xanadu was the hot movie, roller rinks were the most popular place to go, leg warmers and ribbon barrettes were high fashion, and AC/DC and Ozzy Osbourne were the pinnacle of rock, I knew a boy named Chris. He was the boy next door, and he was the first in a long line of Chrises in my life.

This particular Chris just friended me on Facebook this week and upset my notion of self.

It's remarkable the kind of visceral memories that have been popping into my head all week. I think both of us were going through very difficult, confusing times when we knew each other. Heck, middle school is that way for everyone, what with the hormones, physical changes, social awkwardness, and inability / desire to be an adult. But I think there was more for the two of us than many kids have to deal with, given the families we grew up in.

It's 25 years later, and Chris still knows who I am. I gave the usual Facebook spiel about how I enjoyed my single life and didn't have a need for anything, and he immediately told me to stop being coy and tell him if I was happy. Dammit. How can he do that after so long?

So many memories of playing piano together, creating dance routines, playing Dungeons & Dragons, bike riding around the neighborhood, tree houses and dirt piles and race car tracks... 4 years worth of young adulthood came screaming back this week. And he still knows me. Have I not changed at all since I was 12?

Chris had some very encouraging words to say. He pointed out that 5 on a scale of 10 as a happiness rating is not something that I should accept, and that I need to find out what's blocking me and transcend it. He seems to have done so in his own life, which is admirable and inspirational.

What is blocking me?

It seems like I've been having a lot of deep conversations in recent weeks. They all end up coming down to one essential truth about my life that I don't reveal to a lot of people. (Actually, lately it does seem like it's a lot of people.) I'm not going to state it here, but suffice it to say that it has a lot to do with why I'm single.

I suppose there's a reason for the proverbial mid-life crisis. It's a way of evaluating whether one needs to change one's course in life before it's really too late to make major changes. I guess in some ways this is mine. Am I content with the way my life is? What things can I change to improve it? Are the dreams I had growing up things that I still want to attain if I haven't? Is it better to adjust my attitude or my circumstance, or do both need to change?

I've fallen into a certain pattern in my life that is in some ways very comfortable and familiar to me, but which is not necessarily healthy. Am I capable of changing it? Can I reach out of my comfort zone to grow and change, hopefully for my long-term good? I don't know if I can, or if I should accept my own foibles, and my own lot in life, even if the loneliness I feel today is here to stay.

I don't think that single, childless women have good outcomes later in life, especially if they also don't have siblings. I have seen family members (of both sexes, actually) who did not fare well in this way, and it looks like it could be unpleasant. On the other hand, I consider my friends to be family, and hopefully there will always be friends around to help should I need it. And being single has its advantages. I have a lot of freedom.

I have been wishing for something that I know to be impossible. Perhaps I need to let go of the fantasy and start changing my reality.

Meta-blogging moment: I started the two themes of this blog almost two years ago, "Pique" which is basically any post where I rant about something, and "Reverie" which is any post where I do dream self-analysis, since I'm a vivid dreamer. The latter are probably rarely of interest to anyone aside from myself, but I am mostly blogging as a form of self-expression, anyways. Heck, both Pique and Reverie posts are forms of navel-gazing. This is the first post that has both joined together.

--------------------------------------

Pique: I had a very difficult emotional day yesterday. There are several historical reasons why 11/1 is always a challenging day. It's the day my parents were married, and the day, 23 years later, that they separated. My Granny and a family dog both died on 10/31. I think these sorts of events have resonance across years.

But aside from historical reasons, three things occurred yesterday for me that have put me in a heightened emotional state, and which triggered a vivid dream.

1) I received in the mail some photographs taken by an old boyfriend (I refer to him as "the former love of my life") from when we were dating almost 15 years ago. He sent a lovely note with them about how the best ones capture my personality and my beauty. I looked at them yesterday morning, and they made me weep. I was so young and naive and unaware. And so thin and, yes, beautiful, but in a strange raw way I can't put my finger on. But what was most sad was how in love with him I was, and how I will never love anyone like that again. Not that I won't love someone, but it won't have that same innocence, that same openness. I'm amazed how he managed to capture all of that on film - the photos were excellent. I felt like he gave me back a piece of my soul.

"One day you're there, and then all of a sudden there's less of you, and you wonder where that part went, if it's living somewhere outside of you. And you keep thinking, maybe you'll get it back. And then you realize, it's just gone." - Peggy Olson, Mad Men

Maybe it finally came back.


2) I have finally decided, after agonizing over it and after discussing it with Mom, to put down my cat Chester. This decision isn't going to be popular with most people I know. Chester is 17 years old and she has renal failure, although I need to get the blood work done to prove this. She drinks huge volumes of water and urinates the same. She has destroyed the hardwood floors in my kitchen over the past two years and made my house reek of cat pee. I have tried everything I can think of to minimize the damage, including spending a lot on puppy pads which I lay down in her favorite peeing areas, but she scratches at them which means they don't cover the area any more and she pees under them. I currently have her gated into the laundry room where she is rapidly destroying the floors in there, and the linoleum is warping, but at least it's not hardwood. She has no life in there, and stays in her kitty bed most of the time. I try to make time to visit with her every day, but she cries now and then out of loneliness. She is also starting to vomit more, not due to hairballs, which could indicate that she's close to total renal failure.

My cats are like my children, and this is an incredibly painful thing to be doing, but I just can't handle this any more. Mom helped me with this and has been very supportive, pointing out that our pets trust us to take care of them during life and also in deciding when it's time for them to die. Very few house cats die natural deaths in their sleep.

Mom also pointed out that, now that I have decided this is what needs to happen, I should take a good friend with me when I have her put down. Someone who can be supportive of my decision and is willing to drive me home since I probably won't be able to handle that myself. I'm going to be a wreck. But -- please forgive me, those friends of mine who read this blog -- I can't think of anyone. I know that I have friends who would be willing to help me, but I can't think of anyone that I would be comfortable trusting with what will likely be me in hysterics. I guess I have problems A) asking for help and B) allowing anyone to see me like that. This should be one of those things where someone immediately leaps into your mind - your best friend, your boyfriend, your husband, something. I don't have those things. I have very old friends like tmc, who I'm sure would be willing to go, but I feel like he has enough stuff going on in his own life to deal with my crap, too. Plus, he doesn't drive. ;)

The fact that I don't have that sort of automatically qualifying relationship is my fault. I have only myself to blame for my inability to open up.


3) I was stood up by my date last night. This is just a final nail in the coffin for this situation, but it still hurt.


==============================

Reverie: I am in the top floor room of a brownstone in New York City, and Carrie Bradshaw, the lead character from Sex and the City, is there. She's actually the character, not Sarah Jessica Parker, the actress. Carrie is going through her results of a personality test. She's telling me that she took the test at an official testing site of some sort, and it's the MBTI (of which I am so fond). Except it's not, because there are the usual I/E, J/P, T/F variables, but the N/S variable is replaced with Q/something. Carrie has scored a Q in this area, and we're trying to figure out what it means. Then our discussion becomes a montage, as though it were part of a SatC episode, and in particular, I am Miranda. We're discussing what it means to be an F, and how we think Samantha is a T, and we're laughing and sharing our insights with each other.

Suddenly we cut to a scene where I am in bed with Steve, Miranda's husband from the show, and we're cuddling and talking about my conversation with Carrie, and how I felt really close to her. Steve is appreciating the story and seems very happy for me that I had a good time with my best friend.

The end.

===========================

Analysis: I think that this is almost certainly complete wish fulfillment, especially with what went on earlier in the day.

Sometimes it feels like our country would be better off if we did some kind of India/Pakistan-like split, where the liberal folks could all get together and rule their country in their own way, as could the conservatives on the other side. Except then we'd be neighbors with our worst enemies instead of living together and balancing each other out.

I think this week has been and is continuing to be a severe trial for everyone, especially when we're friends, lovers, or family with people on the other side of the fence. Today I am really tired of continually failing to have reasonable dialogue between the factions.

I commute about 40 miles round-trip to and from work every day with the new job. I actually enjoy my commute - it gives me time to gear up for work and to let it go at the end of the day. It feels like my home and work life are more separate now. Plus, I have an inner speed demon who likes to be let out now and again.

I commuted all around D.C. and Annapolis in my previous jobs, so I'm used to commuting, and I'm a good driver (although not one of those driving naturals that I have ridden with on occasion.) I know how to let people by me if they're going faster than I am by getting out of the frakking way when I see someone coming up behind me - a skill that has apparently been lost on most Triangle drivers. I have never before seen so many idiots who pull deliberately into the left hand lane in front of someone going faster than they are, and who then proceed to create a roadblock with someone going the same speed as them in the right lane, causing big pile-ups behind them. Grrr.

That said, I don't do aggressive things unless forced to, like when someone will just not change to the right-hand lane when I'm patiently waiting (sometimes on their bumper) for them to do so. If they really make me, I will pass on the right, but only after considerable time allowing them to understand that they needed to have changed lanes some time ago.

In other words, I've become one of those jerk Yankee drivers that southern folks hate. So I found it rather amusing that I had the following experience the other day.

I was on the way home up 147 North, and I was in the left-hand lane, going ~8 mph over the speed limit. Traffic was flowing nicely, and no one was blocking me for a good stretch. Then I see a station wagon coming up behind me pull one of those sudden-lane-shift speed demon zig-zag moves that I generally avoid. The person then proceeds at a rapid pace to close in on me. Seeing this, I change to the right-hand lane so he can get by me. The car is probably going 15-18 mph over the speed limit. I've had my moments of doing similar things, but not on 147 during rush hour.

The car passes me, and I get a look at the station wagon's bumper, which shows, to my surprise:


Photo yoinked from Barry at DE, who has details about the Durham Pace Car program.

I also found this (horribly mistitled) video on youtube:



Now, I'm a big evil gas-using, environment-corrupting, dangerous speeder, but at least I'm not a hypocrite about it. And I have sense enough to have some limits. And I drive a Civic instead of the gas-guzzling ancient station wagon that passed me.

And, for the record, I've never had a speeding ticket. *knock on wood*

I have said this here before, but let me be very clear about it.

I will not tolerate trolls on this blog.

This is my personal blog, and I am willing to be completely despotic about it. If you leave an unpleasant, infantile, asinine comment here, I will delete it.

I have a great big hammer here just waiting to pound a troll like you.

That is all.

You ever have one of those days that starts out from the wee hours as stuff breaking all over the place? I had one of those today. Most of my other coworkers have had stuff breaking all week long. I think I have had comparatively better sleep even though I've been woken up three times in three days by the pager going off.

The good thing about today? It's Mom's birthday!

Happy birthday, Mom. :)

Ok, this is a really long rant, and it just shows how travel makes me anxious. It brings out my control issues.

I'm in Tampa, FL for training, and it's been a bit of a nightmare, Monday in particular. I arrived around 1:00 pm, picked up the rental car (which, fortunately, I'd gotten a GPS for), and drove off to my hotel, which was near the airport and the training center. Well, this place was foul. My room was filthy, and the entire hotel reeked of some very potent carpet fresh substance. Also, I didn't know this when I made the reservation, but Extended Stay hotels only clean your room once a week - more often if you pay for more. I had the feeling that if I stayed there I would get bedbugs. I immediately went downstairs and cancelled my reservation, which they did, grudgingly. I will never stay at an Extended Stay hotel if I have any option.

I then called our wonderful admin assistant C. to help me arrange another place to stay. She asked me if it mattered where it was, and I said no, as long as it was clean. She asked me, would north Tampa be okay? I said, sure, that sounds great. So she booked me in a very nice Wingate Wyndham, and gave me the address, which I plugged into my GPS, and made off.

It was taking an awfully long time to get to the hotel, and I kept expecting the GPS to direct me to an ending. But it didn't. And didn't. The GPS doesn't give a miles-to-destination when you plug in an address or en route, so I had no idea where this place was. Then I went over some bump in the road and the GPS fell off of the windshield and wound up on the floor of the passenger side where I couldn't reach it. As I was on a highway, I was going to have to pull over to put the thing back up.

Then, at the next exit, there was a sign for Wingate, so I took the exit, thankful that I'd finally found the hotel. It was a lot further out than I wanted, but I thought it was doable to get to the training site the next day if I got up early enough. On the other hand, the highways to get there had been very crowded, and it wasn't anywhere near rush hour. I could see it being a lot worse the next day.

The hotel was very nice inside, which was good, but I decided I was going to have to find something closer in to town. I went to the registration desk and explained about my reservation, and that I would need to cancel because it was just too far away from the training center. The receptionist was very nice, and looked up my reservation. But it wasn't there. With a little more poking around, she discovered that my reservation was for the other local Wingate, which was even further away. It turns out that "north Tampa" was actually "North Tampa", which is an entirely different town, about 45 minutes away from Tampa during non-rush-hour. My spirits sank further.

The receptionist offered to call up the other hotel and cancel the reservation over the phone, which I happily agreed to. She called the hotel and asked them to cancel my reservation. Then she got a serious look on her face, and said to me, "They'd like to talk to you," and handed me the phone.

It turns out that C. had made the reservations through Travelocity, and they were non-refundable. I asked the person on the other end of the phone, "You mean, if I cancel then I will be charged for the entire stay?" The lady on the other end said, "That's right, ma'am." I held onto the phone for another minute spluttering to myself and trying to figure out if there was any way out of this, then giving up, I thanked her and handed the phone back to the receptionist. The receptionist looked at me with such pity that I nearly burst into tears right there. I started to wish I had risked the bed bugs.

I took a breather when I got back to the car to calm down.

I plugged the address of the BFE Wingate into the GPS, and it turns out that that was the one it had been directing me to when it fell onto the floorboard, and I had simply by luck been near the closer Wingate. I proceeded down the highway to another highway, where there was a serious accident, and I sat for about 10 minutes without traffic moving at all. It must have just happened, because when I finally got past it, I saw three cars piled up, a motorcycle where, fortunately, the motorcyclist was walking around even though the bike had been laid down, and emergency crew all over both sides of the road. There were a couple more cars further down the road that also appeared to have been involved.

Finally I pulled up to the ludicrously-far-away Windham. I had determined that the best way to address my problems with them was to just be very honest and humble and appeal to their sense of pity. I approached the front desk, hat in hand, and told them about my day, and how far away this was from where I needed to be. I asked them if there was any possibility of canceling my reservation, and that I would stay the one night but needed to cancel the others. The staff were very understanding, and went and looked into their cancellation policies and what could be done for me. As it turns out, the reservation could be canceled, but I'd need to do it through Travelocity. They gave me the 800 number, and even recommended a couple of hotels closer to the airport, where I needed to be. I thanked them profusely, and took my stuff upstairs.

The room was clean and inviting, one of the better hotel rooms I've stayed in over the past couple of years. Between the customer service, the rooms, and the price value, I will definitely stay at Wingates in the future.

I got on the phone and called Travelocity to cancel the rest of my stay. After being on hold forever and dealing with someone on the other end whose accent was too thick to understand well, I understood that I could in fact cancel the rest of my reservation, if I had the Trip ID. Which I didn't.

It was getting towards the end of the business day, at this point, so I wasn't sure if C. would still be in, but I gave her a call. She answered. Thank goodness for C! I explained the situation and told her that I could fix it if I could have the Trip ID. After a little searching around, she gave it to me and I was able to call Travelocity and cancel the rest of my stay. Phew!

Then I had to find a new hotel for the next three nights that was closer to the airport. The first several I tried had no availability. (It is approximately peak tourist season, I realized.) After a while of searching, I finally found a good place - the Hampton Inn at Rocky Point, which looked close enough to the training center, and was close to the bay, as well. I finally went to get some lunch / dinner, and then spent the rest of the night working on some design plans I need to get done by Monday.

The next day, I got up at 6:00 a.m., since I needed to be on the road by 7:00 a.m., I figured, to ensure I had plenty of time to find the training center. I actually ended up leaving closer to 6:45, and it's a good thing I did. The traffic was horrid - the worst I'd seen since I used to commute around the D.C. beltway in the mid-90's (although I'm certain that commute would be much worse today.) It took me 1.5 hours to get to the training center. Now, I may be spoiled by my 15 minute morning commute, but spending 3 hours in the car every day is outrageous to me. I was very glad that I got to change my hotel and not face this for the next three days.

I'm even more glad today, since the 50 car pile-up which killed at least three people this morning was on the very same stretch of road I went through where the ~6 car incident was that I witnessed. I would have been stuck in that back-up until lunchtime if I'd had to make that commute this morning.

The Hampton Inn at Rocky Point is a nice, clean hotel, not quite as nice as the Wingate, but very nicely located, and right next to the Bahama Breeze restaurant where I ate dinner last night, and finally got a glimpse of the bay. I snapped a few shots of it last night.



All in all, I'm looking forward to being home in a couple of days. I'm going to have to get C. a present of some sort for helping me with all of this mess.

Addendum: It turns out, according to this morning's papers, that the big pile-up was actually considerably east of where I was, but it was on Rt. 4. It looks like it was even worse than originally reported, with 75 cars involved and at least 4 dead.

about people who ignore you when you tell them not to pet your cats? Everyone thinks I'm being hyper-paranoid and goes and pets them anyways. And then they get scratched or bitten - even the most cat-knowledgeable people. There's a reason I keep them shut up during my parties, and it's a lesson that's been learned through experience. One of these days, one of the cats is going to bite someone and I could be forced to put them down or something. This isn't playing around.

Please listen to people when they tell you about their pets. Sheesh.

I love pork. Especially bacon and ham. It's my real Achilles heal when it comes to going pesce-veggie. I can give up beef and chicken quite easily, and I dislike turkey, but pork is very hard for me to turn down.

Which is why it was surprising that I found myself, for the first time ever, being grossed out at the idea of a bacon-related food.

Some things are just going too far.

Thanks to hsarik for the link.

So since North Carolina is currently experiencing the worst drought in recorded history, we've all been trying to conserve as much water as possible. I personally have cut my laundry to one load per week, although I think it will have to be two this coming week, do 2 loads of dishes a week, take a 4-minute shower (and have started turning off the water while soaping), catch the water as it's warming up in a bucket which I'm using to try to save my azaleas, and don't use much when I'm brushing my teeth. But there are still times when I use water in the sink like I normally would, to wash my hands, clean off things, fill the ice-tea maker which is my main form of beverage these days, use it for cooking or rinsing out a pot or something, etc. I'm hoping to get my usage to 1 unit (748 gallons) per month. It was at 2 before I started these measures. So that would be going from ~50 gallons/day to ~25 gallons/day.

Still, one has to be careful how one re-uses household water, which is considered gray water as Michael described in this post. So I thought of a bunch of silly ways to conserve water that don't involve use of gray water.

Note: These methods are unwise, probably illegal, and most likely detrimental to your health. It is not recommended that anyone do any of the following at any time. On your own head be it.

• Drink from the jug. Why waste water on cleaning a glass?
• Wash your entire body with Purell. Including your hair.
• Swallow your toothpaste. Then you don't have to turn on the faucet at all.
• Stink. Saves on those showers.
• Pee outdoors. That compost pile could use more nitrogen, anyways.
• Don't worry about the 3 minutes you are advised to run your tap to reduce lead contamination. Injest that lead!
• Use hand wipes such as these to clean your entire house, including hardwood floors.
• Have one set of biodegradable plate/utensils which you carry everywhere with you. Clean them with hand wipes. When they degrade during one of your meals, get new ones. Repeat.
• Throw your clothes away when they get dirty. Buy new ones that are clean. Saves a ton of water on laundry.

I just re-watched the 2005 movie "Pride & Prejudice" based on Jane Austen's work starring Kiera Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen. I think this movie is beautifully shot, well directed and decently acted. And I absolutely can't stand it.

I have to say that I have such love for the 1995 A&E mini-series version of this work that I may be highly biased. Jennifer Ehle gave an incomparable performance as Elizabeth Bennett, and Colin Firth was just way too drool-worthy as Mr. Darcy. All of the acting was fabulous, really, and the costuming and settings were equally as well done as the movie's. The cinematography was superior in the movie, although I think all the statuary in the interior shots of Pemberley was a bit much.

No, what really, really irks me about the movie is what they've done to Jane Austen's beautiful words. I can understand that the mini-series had an advantage in representing Austen's writing accurately since there was more time to explore it with an entire mini-series, and perhaps a good deal of chopping was needed to get it down to 127 minutes. I can understand that some non-essential characters were left out in order to keep the story flowing. I can even understand a small bit of the modernizing of the language - for instance, changing Lizzie's phrase "your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it" to "your ladyship can hardly expect me to own to it" seemed like an acceptable change to help modern audiences' comprehension.

But the screenwriter, Deborah Moggach, didn't stop there. There were changes throughout the script that were absolutely unnecessary and to me showed a complete lack of respect for Austen's mastery of the English language. What kind of hubris makes a writer think they can do better? One of the best scenes in the entire story is when Darcy proposes to Lizzy, and that was completely mangled. Lizzy's aunt and uncle were forced to have "no kids" so that it was justifiable that he shelled out 10,000 pounds to force Wickham to marry Lydia, when it's a very important plot / motivation point that Darcy was the one who bailed out this situation, not just that he purchased Wickham's commission as the movie has it. The whole "I should have been more open with my sisters" and Lizzy not sharing stuff with Jane was a complete fabrication very contrary to the nature of the characters as Austen established them. Finally, this incredibly tacky Hollywood mushy love stuff was tacked onto the end of the movie. Barfola.

Ms. Moggach has clearly not done anything else terribly noteworthy in her screenwriting career, and I'm sure this was her big chance. Well, she seriously blew it, and the next time I see her name associated with a film, I will avoid seeing it. Don't mess with my Austen!

Although I'm the Yankee of the family, I come from a long line of North Carolinians. Some of that culture trickles into my speech every now and then, although I don't have a trace of a southern accent anymore. (I did when I was 4 or 5.) One term which seems to be particularly southern is "woppy-jawed." Something is woppy-jawed if it's "out of whack" or "askew." For instance:

That tractor seat is all woppy-jawed. You need to tighten the bolt on it.

I use it rarely, but occasionally when I'm talking it will pop out. When it does, I frequently get bug-eyed looks of confusion from whomever I'm speaking to. Then I realize that I just said something that A) I'm not sure of the formal definition of (Urban Dictionary doesn't have it, for instance) and B) may sound racist (I'm thinking an Italian slur, here.) Given the terrible racist tendencies of my heritage, that's not out of the question.

So I was wondering, does anyone else who reads this blog use that phrase? Does anyone know the derivation of this term? I know I didn't make it up - Googling it gives plenty of hits.

The original version of this song was going through my head, and although the Fred Rogers version wasn't on YouTube, this one was:



Mom's in town, and we spent a quiet fourth at home relaxing (and for me, de-stressing about some work stuff.) She's here until Saturday. I made the shrimp stir-fry again last night and it turned out even better this time because I stuck to the original recipe instead of trying to combine two recipes into one. Mom made some excellent from-scratch pasta with marinara sauce earlier this week. And she's planning to make some risotto sometime before she goes. Yummy!

I'll hopefully have a big post sometime soon about the work-related stuff, if I can do it without revealing too many insider details. :)

Summertime is when we get all of our special projects done while the students are (mostly) away, so it's really my busiest time of year. This past week I was sideswiped by a highly political urgent request to make a major code change to one of my programs - I got it through dev, test, and rolled to production in three days. The only real benefit to this, from my point of view, is proving to my new manager and director that when someone says jump I can ask "How high?" on the way up.

But the rest of June (rest? It hasn't even started...) is looking equally insane. The latest version of another program was supposed to be rolled out last week, but had to be put on hold for this other project. So I really need to roll that out next week, and I have to train someone on how to use it on Tuesday in preparation for it being rolled out. There are two or three other groups who need to be trained as well. Then we have this group-wide 16 hour outage window for one of our data centers (don't ask) which requires me to be on site overnight the night of the 9th/10th, and then I have to really ramp up on a new project which I'll have to complete by August which is to move all of my group's software to new hardware (which has been a long time coming and I'm glad is finally happening). Also, Mom is visiting the week/weekend of the 16th, and I'll be out of town on a business trip the final week of June. Oh crud, and I need to go to Eli's graduation right before the outage weekend.

So, things are CRAZY! I may not be posting as much for the next month or so. Just to warn everyone.

In other news, a house right around the corner from me that is smaller than mine, with fewer bathrooms, and only slightly more renovated than mine went on the market and sold within a week for $30k more than I paid for mine a year and a half ago. It's good to buy in a neighborhood that's coming up. :)

I watched a couple of my favorite movies today - Moonstruck and Dances With Wolves. It had been a while since I had seen either film. I was struck this time by how nice it is to see movies with powerful romantic themes in them that don't show much skin. It seems so innocent. In a really nice way.

Times were just different back then - although I remember when Bull Durham came out, how over the top it seemed with the sexual aspect. That just makes me laugh, now.

So I thought I would come up with a list of movies that I find very stimulating - some of them in an innocently romantic way, and some maybe not so innocent. I'm not sure why, I just feel like it. :)

• Moonstruck
• Dances With Wolves
• Bull Durham
• The Unbearable Lightness of Being
• Shakespeare in Love
• Unfaithful  - I was really surprised that I liked this, but it was very hot and also very smartly done, even though it's dark.
  
• The Sure Thing
• Prime
• Four Weddings and a Funeral
• Purple Rain - Yeah, yeah, I know.  But it was the first rated R movie I ever saw, and it still does something for me.  My love of Prince does not extend to Under the Cherry Moon, however.
• Dangerous Liaisons, and similarly, Valmont
• The Goodbye Girl
• Two For the Road
  
• Memoirs of a Geisha
• some aspects of The Last Emperor
• In Her Shoes
• Girl 6
• Sex, Lies, and Videotape
• The Big Easy - especially this one scene.... *ahem*
  

Pardon me.  I think it's been too long since I've been on a date.

I went to the Durham Farmer's Market in its new location this morning for the first time.  It used to be a bunch of booths set up in the parking lot across from Measurement, Inc., near the old Durham Athletic Park (where Bull Durham was filmed, for you out-of-towners.)  The new digs were its intended permanent home, with a large covered area so the vendors could sell their wares out of the elements.

Well, I am no longer going to make going to the farmer's market part of my Saturday routine.

Parking was quite a bit simpler this time, since the old location is now entirely free for parking.  But that's the only improvement in the new situation, and, for me at least, everything else that used to be lovely about the farmer's market is now ruined.

The traffic flow through this covered area is awful, and I, for one, hate being in a crowd.  At least in the old location, there was enough space to move around without any serious traffic jams, and it was much easier to just breathe or to efficiently dodge the crowded areas to get where you wanted to go.  No longer.  The concrete floors and metal ceilings of the new space cause voices to bounce around and echo so that it is now a loud experience, as well.  The vendors are all smushed together in there, and honestly, the fact that they don't have as much freedom to create their own spaces makes the vendors very uniform and not as interesting.  I walked the length of the space once and got the hell out as quickly as possible.

Also, what was so bad about being out in the elements?  I found it nice to be able to get out into the sunshine or the mist or whatever was happening - that was the fun part about the market.  As it is, I may as well go to Whole Foods.

Maybe the experience would have been better if I'd gotten there an hour earlier - 10:00 am is when the crowds get heavy.  Still, I have to say, I have no real desire to go back - at least, not until tomato season.

This week the second season of Twin Peaks on DVD arrived in the mail, as I had pre-ordered it. It reminded me that I need to continue moving bits from my old web site to this blog. In particular, it reminded me that I have a bunch of pictures from when I went to visit the area just east of Seattle where various scenes from Twin Peaks were filmed. So here goes...


Click the Photo for more pictures and descriptions.

I had a wonderful experience just before my 27th birthday, in early December 1997: I went on a business trip to Seattle, and had enough time to find my way through the real Twin Peaks! It's amazing how close together most of the sites are, tucked away in the woods about 45 minutes from Seattle. If you enjoyed the show, and you ever have a chance to visit, I highly recommend it! I was particularly fortunate in that it didn't rain a drop the entire time I was in the Pacific Northwest, which is rare, particularly in the beginning of December. It was gloriously sunny and crisp for the entire visit. If Seattle were actually like that most of the time, I'd move there in a heartbeat. I have always been a Peaks Freak, although I haven't participated in the news group discussions. While in college, my entire dorm became devoted to the show, and we were bitterly disappointed when it was canceled. I was able to relive those times and enjoy the incredible beauty of the area during my visit.

Most of Twin Peaks was filmed in the town of Aurora, Washington. The Double-R Diner is actually the Mar-T Cafe, and the exterior of the Great Northern Hotel is actually the Salish Lodge at Snoqualmie Falls. I am told that the interior was filmed at a Lodge over on the other side of the Puget Sound from Seattle, but I didn't make it out that way. There were plenty of other sites in Aurora, however: The high school Laura went to, the Sheriff's Station which is actually the business office of the Mill, the railroad trestle Ronette wanders over, a great big log featured in the opening credits of the pilot, the train cars where Laura and Ronette were taken, and the stoplight used symbolically throughout the series. I'm told that Big Ed's Gas Farm can be seen in those parts too, but I didn't find it. And most of all, the Twin Peaks themselves, and the long view of them where the Twin Peaks welcome sign stood in the intro.

My mother had tagged along to do some sight-seeing in the area, and in fact I owe most of the trip to Twin Peaks to her, since her birthday present to me was footing the bill for the venture. We had such fun!

I'm in the middle of watching the next-to-last episode for the season of Battlestar Galactica (the new one) on Sci Fi. I have been a serious BSG fan for the past year and a half, when I caught up with the series in the middle of its second season. I have to say that I am very, very disappointed with the way season 3 has progressed.

Okay, I am a Starbuck fan, so you have to take what I say with some grain of salt, if you've been watching the show. But even before the latest situation with her, I have been deeply upset at how they have progressively demonized her character. I have the utmost respect for Katee Sackhoff and the job she has done with her character, given what the writers have been throwing at her.

The writing all season long has been sub-par. I don't even enjoy watching the show anymore. I was planning to throw a season finale party next weekend and invite my BSG buddies over, but now I think I would be such an unhappy camper watching the show that it would just spoil the viewing for my friends.

It's such a shame, because the first two seasons were so good, and even the first couple of episodes for this season were great. Everything since then has been getting worse and worse. Sigh.

Addendum: On another TV-related note, I absolutely adore Rome on HBO. Unfortunately, it looks like the entire series will end with next week's episode. I was really hoping they would go for a third season and develop the Livia / Augustus bit - but I guess they figure that's already been done with I, Claudius. Still, there's a show with some excellent writing. It never disappoints.