the hairkiller

I knit this hat. It's not even nice. I made it from left-over yarn. The wool is scratchy. It drops little blue mohairs in my cereal bowl. There's a little nubbin at the top that's a kinda goofy. But I can't take it off.

It's like it's fused with my soul somehow and I can't extricate. Some days, I won't leave the house because, although it doesn't go with my outfit, I can't take off the damn hat.

Or I've worn it too many hours for my freshly laundered hair to recover, even with product. So the hat stays.

Some days, I don't shower because I don't want to take the hat off. I figure, if I just leave it on, I won't have to worry about my hair. Sometimes this lasts for more than one day.

So, that hat's been getting some wear. I wanted to wash it over the weekend, but, well, I wasn't really sure what I'd do until it dried. I'm not kidding. So I started knitting another hat, so I could wash the first one. But it's not the same, so that ruse isn't going to work.

I'm sure, in some dusty textbook somewhere, there is a name for my condition. Atypical object attachment? Knit-fixated? Milliner-Elektra Complex? Like I said, dusty.

That's it. Knit and commit. Have a swell day.

house buying. or not.

I saw a wee flat over the weekend that I could almost afford to purchase. Whether it's a good idea is another matter.

My current place is cheap and in a great neighborhood. I can't afford to buy here. It boggles my mind that people can afford to buy here. The median home price here was a cool million dollars in October 2005, says this site. Median.

Anyway my little dream pad clocks in at 390k. You can't see it, but you can see the house it sits below here. It's the "Au Pair" unit.

Thanksgiving in Oregon was lovely. Spent a lot of quality time being an auntie. Played basement soccer and tag and paid attention to all the loose teeth and piano recitals. A nice time. And friends and family did a bang-up job with the food.

Christmas is just 12 days away. Hope everyone is safe and warm, and not spending all their time at the mall.
XOXO,
Aunt Judy

house lust

I wandered into an open house this weekend and fell in love. Sure, the place had fake stone on the front, was across the street from a busy road, and hadn't been updated in 50 years. It was gorgeous. One of those old Edwardians with the wide windows and lovely square rooms and a really nice homey feel. Now if I just had $675k to spare...

It's been a good weekend, full of sunshine and exercise and good wholesome activity. For instance, I read enough of my House Buying for Dummies book to realize that it makes no sense for me to buy a house right now, and in this market. But next year it might. Learning about the complexities of taxes, retirement, and saving -- and some nice perks of my work 401(k) (can borrow up to 1/2) and my Roth IRA (can take $10k distribution with no penalty).

Making lentil soup and finishing the fringe on my mother's Christmas gift. I am hand-making all my gifts this year, and so far the stash is looking pretty good. I leave for Portland/Eugene in just over a week -- madly trying to wrap up some last-minute projects. I've taken to celebrating Christmas at Thanksgiving
with my sister's family -- I have a duffle packed already for all the folk.

There's not much news here. My life is quiet, and okay. Considered moving downstairs to a larger apartment. But the sunset is gorgeous from my top-floor window, and I can't give it up. Not even for another room. Maybe there are just times when you have to appreciate where you're at and see the okayness of it all.

word-fest

I never get tired of these little suckers. Behold the list of neologisms, compliments of Dan, who cheers me when I'm blue. Thanks, bro.

ANNUAL NEOLOGISM CONTEST

Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.

The winners are:
1. Coffee (n.) the person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj.) appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v.) to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v.) to attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj.) impotent.
6. Negligent (adj.) describes a condition in which you absent-mindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v.) to walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n.) olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n.) a rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n.) a humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n.) the formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n) a Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n.) a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n.) (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n.) an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

The Washington Post's Style Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners:

1. Bozone (n.) The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
2. Cashtration (n.) The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.
3. Giraffiti (n) Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
4. Sarchasm (n) The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
5. Inoculatte (v) To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
6. Hipatitis (n) Terminal coolness.
7. Osteopornosis (n) A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)
8. Karmageddon (n) It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
9.Decafalon (n.) The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
10. Glibido (v) All talk and no action.
11. Dopeler effect (n) The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
12. Arachnoleptic fit (n.) The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
13. Beelzebug (n.) Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
14. Caterpallor (n.) The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:
Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

dr. atomic

Life is funny. There you are, feeling blue because your relationship is busting up, and people come out of the woodwork to cheer you up.

Example: My friend Greg calls out of the blue yesterday. He's in town visiting from Baltimore. We plan to get together tonight, then I say, hey, there's this opera I really want to see and there are only two showings left and what do you know, they're both sold out. Today, an acquaintence of Greg's phones to get advice on contracting. He works for the opera. So tonight, we're sitting in center Orchestra box, grossly underdressed, and I'm enjoying my very first modern opera, gratis. The libretto was a bit of a surprise, but once you get used to that, Dr. Atomic is quite a spectacular mix of passages from Baudelaire and John Donne; opera, dance, and staging. I wish my parents could see it. My grandfather did two stints at Los Alamos. Amazing to see years of history dramatized in 3 hours. Dang.

Got home tonight: Kathy is visiting from Austin. So it looks like I have plans tomorrow night too. Then off to Santa Cruz for the weekend to check out the surf contest, and avoid my neighbors party on Saturday night, which tends to come right through the walls into my bedroom. Should be a nice time, all around. Maybe I'll even stop in Half Moon Bay, carve a pumpkin at the pumpkin fair.

Strangely, life is quite good. Is that odd?

behold the chub

It's finally happened: I've gotten fat. The great thing about being fat(ter) is the momentum: the eating, the drinking, the not-working-out. It's sort of a nice cycle of predictability. I've even gotten new clothes to fit the bigger me.

The only downside, as I learned when someone unexpectedly grabbed me around the waist last night, is how much of me moves. There's only one solution I can think of for that: The Belly Bra. Yet another million-dollar invention whose time (and place) has definitely come.

Besides the chunk about my midriff, all is well. My boyfriend ditched me to go write his book. And I've sortof ditched him back, since he has no immediate plans to return to the city where I live. Still trying to figure out if I mean it...

Strangely, I've been having a great deal of fun while in relationship limbo. I attended the Pumpkin Smash 400 and Sppoky Demolition Derby at the Altamont Raceway. It was Nascar with old cop cars and pumpkins on a well-soaped track. There was much sliding about and, somewhere in there, two 200-lap car races. Crazy. Hypnotic. Oddly wholesome family entertainment.

I got to run around my favorite city last night and show her off. Beers at the Toronado, dinner at Indian Oven (mmm, garlic nan), and then a visit to Crissy Field in the full moon, waking up the egrets and wading out to the beach, looking up at the GG Bridge. One of my new friends from Brooklyn sang me her song about corn. It goes something like this:

Corn-y, corn-y
I love you
Salt and butter
make you yummier

I added my own line:
If I dry you
You pop too

It was a good night.

how many monsters?

My sister-in-law has written a book. It's called The Episomology of the Mounstrous in the Middle Ages. Sure, it could have used a catchier title, but the ideas and the topic are fascinating. It inspired these thoughts (of mine), however discombobulated and uneducated as they may be. How many monsters does a culture have? What kinds? What does that say about people who pass on the tales, who tell them around bar rooms and campfires and dinner tables? What monsters are good for us, which bad? Are they vehicles for expressing our anxieties, therefore helping us unburden ourselves and live more lightly, more gently? Or do they inspire fear, amplify our worries, make them concrete and therefore somehow more powerful?

Well, dang, maybe I should read the book and find out!

I'm in a knitting frenzy. I raced to Imagiknit (I am loyal to only one yarn store) tonight at 5:45, terrified they'd already closed. You see, I was two balls into a scarf and needed the third to complete. And I had no plans for a Saturday night. What luck!

I bought the third ball...and five new ones. They were just so pretty yo ucna't leave them there. Turns out my third ball wasn't a match (half mohair! What?), so I got to bust out the fun stuff early. Yay! I started -- got nearly two feet done on 13mm needles (knits up *fast*) and I can't stop. It's so freaking beautiful I can't put it down. Oh well! You go to sleep sometime. I am a knitting junkie. Starts gorgeous yarn, become gorgeous scarf. THen again, perhaps it's time to try something new. Sweater, perhaps?

I think God wanted me to own a yarn store. I wonder if the residents of Portland need one. Bet they already have a couple. Yes. eight. Dang. What a cool town. Maybe I'll move there someday, buy a little house, and get a dog.

Life goes on

My brother is staying in Mobile, Alabama to report on the aftershocks of Hurricane Katrina. His wife is heading today to my parents house in New York, where she and their son will hunker down for the next, oh, six months or so. It's a wild time.

My parents spent the long weekend clearing out their finished basement. No mean feat, but one long overdue. My dad is thrilled. He talked about how nice it looks, with a beautiful oriental carpet in there, new lights, and a bed for Charlie. "It'll be a great big playroom for Charlie," he said. Yesterday was his birthday. 76! "The spirit of 76," he says. Dear old dad. He was a bit disappointed that he couldn't get a couch downstairs. By himself.

My sister took them out to dinner last night at Richardson's Canal House to celebrate. Sometimes, I wish I lived closer to family.

Alex is back in D.C. doing research at the Library of Congress for his book. I'm here, immersed in workplace politics. Or, really, trying to understand workplace politics. I may be wasting my time.

So that's life. Everyone is safe and sound and heading to higher ground. I made chili. I guess it's all rather delightfully boring in my neck of the woods. Hope it continues.

Hurricane Katrina

My brother Mike is back in the path of gigantic storms. Last time around, he got a spread in Time magazine of a photo he took of Ivan making land, just before the dock he was standing on collapsed. He was fine -- few scrapes. Lost a camera. We'll hope he's just as lucky this time around.

Here's an email my brother Dan sent about Mike's adventures so far...

All,

It’s 10:30pm EST and Michael is headed for bed. He’s got a room in a sturdy-looking hotel in Gulf Port, Mississippi, (Approximately 10 miles from the LA/MS border) where reps from some other big name media outlets are also hunkering down. It is three miles inland from the coast, so wave action shouldn’t be a factor where he is. The hotel pool has three dolphins sent by a nearby aquarium for safe-keeping, and he’s submitted photos of same. Check the paper’s web site to see if they put them up. He already has a number of photos up in the photos section He has a plane and pilot lined up for late tomorrow, and his game plan is to get aerial shots of the damage.


Looking at the maps and data, it is Michael’s belief that the MS/Al/FL areas in the NE quadrant of storm are going to take the heaviest wind hit, but that N.O. is going to take the brunt of the storm surge. The eye is tracking like it will go right over his house. If it does, Lake Pontchartrain will be inundated with a storm surge projected around 12 feet. The levees average 5 to 6 feet, and Mike’s place is about 6 feet below see level. Do the math, and it appears that Mike and Lisa may have some real hardship ahead.


NOAA radar loop of the storm
NOAA projected track of storm
Projected N.O. storm surge impact

leaving D.C.

Packing up and leaving my brother's house in McLean, Virginia. It's been great fun to play house for a week. Alex and I enjoyed the dishwasher, large-screen TV, and especially the laundry machines. Right there in the house!

We also enjoyed the sites. Did a biking tour last night and then went to the Brickskeller and drank insanely good Belgian beers. Like Delirium Tremens and Deolle Oerbier. Dang. So tasty. Here is their beer list, so you can be amazed.

Got a last load of laundry in the dryer. Then we're heading to Philly for a night at the luxurious airport Marriot. We may check out the Liberty Bell and other landmarks of the city of brotherhood. Back to SF tomorrow! It's been a nice trip.

We've done great with places to stay, with one exception. I got a discount rate for two nights at the Sagamore -- supposedly a luxurious Adirondack resort -- for Alex's birthday. We didn't like it. It was like a New Jersey country club scene, gated community and all. We weren't there five minutes when a security guard yelled at Alex for stopping his car in the wrong place. Our room looked just like the great room in my parents basement, minus all my grandparents' furniture. So we bailed, took the cancellation fee hit, and got back on teh road. Ended up getting a nightcap in Woodstock, NY, and staying at Howard Johnson's. A sort of an adventure. With pancakes.

catching on

The chickens are catching on. This from my good friend Stacy in Santa Cruz, who offloads clothing via eBay.

http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=8328100366&ssPageName=ADME:B:EF:US:1

In McLean, Virginia, experiencing surburbia with Alex. We went grocery shopping today. There was lots of parking. Then the maids came. Too many to count. Nice of my brother and his wife to give us the keys while they're in Alaska.

half a chicken later

Went to Good Frikkin Chicken in SF, had my revenge. Boy, was it tasty.

In Saugerties, NY, enjoying the hospitality of the Howard Johnson's. It's ALex's birthday -- we'regoing for birthday pancakes. Pana-kuken.

chicken love

I know my boyfriend likes me. He flew across the country for my birthday. But he likes chickens better.

Case in point: 3 photos of me. 8 photos of chickens. More. And the 3 photos of me? I'm with chickens.

We rented a sweet little cottage in Inverness, near Point Reyes, last weekend. The owner had show chickens. Wild-looking things with poofy feather headresses. Don King and Big Bird. The hens were attractive, more sedate. I get the attraction. Still, it's hard to lose attention to a foot-high clucker that poops on the porch.

It was a nice birthday. We hiked for 10 miles (Alex says 12) in the Point Reyes National Seashore and had a nice dinner at the Olema Inn. We sipped Lindemann's Framboise lambic beer in the hottub at midnight. I got presents.

We shopped for most excellent cheese at the Cowgirl Creamery and bought hats at Cabaline Country Emporium & Saddlery. We looked at stuffed badgers in the Bear Valley Visitors Center. The weather was fine, the food was excellent, and weight was put on by all. Nice, nice.

Off next week for a rendez-vous with Alex in Philadelphia and a trip up the the family reunion in the Adirondacks. We're staying, probably for the last time, at the ever-pricey Albedor, than I'm taking Alex off to the Sagamore for his birthday. Should be an action-packed week. Time to pack again!

world events

realized I wrote the day of the London bombings and didn't mention a thing about them. It was intense to be in NY - there was talk everywhere. The paranoia was palpable. Signs on the highway -- every mile or so -- urged motorists to report suspicious activity. People were skittish about public transit.

At the site of the twin towers, a Japanese man (president? visiting diplomat?) was having a much-ducumented visit to the hole in the ground. It's full of water, surrounded by gray concrete agape with unused water ducts and a high wire fence. The Japanese contingent were on the other side of the fence.

There isn't a whole lot to see. Catwalks. People. There are a few old postcards that showed the pre-9/11 skyline, a few notes form people who had something to say about the bombing, its aftermath, or the state of teh world today. That touched me. This collective grief about events outside our controls. Perhaps that's what fuels American do-goodism: the desire for restitution for being so rich and successful. So unbelievably pampered and spoiled. And yet so listless and lost.

Read Nick Hornby's How to be Good on the plane yesterday. It's good. Disheartening and damning but accurate. Life is long. Strange, but I don't think it's going to get much better. Or, maybe, life really is what you make it.

Alex and I had a hard time traveling together. I don't like to move around so much when I travel. Long drives. New hotels. Bad food. We had all of that, and got on one another's nerves.

I met his parents. They liked me. Why is it so much easier to like other people's parents than our own? Odd, really.
OK, back to work.

home again, home again

San Francisco is lovely, foggy, and blissfully cool. It's good to be home. First of all, my things are here. Remarkable how nice a life I have set up for myself, right down to messages from friends and family, invitations to fiery infernos of outdoor art and camping trips. And it's only going to get better when my old friends Sarah and Andy move back to the States next month. So excited. Finally connected with them via cell in Richmond, Virginia (they're in New Zealand with their two kids). Planning to visit their new home in Portland for Thanksgiving.

Funny how coming home also puts you right back in the groove of your old bad habits, tho. Like knitting in bed (bad for the back and wrists) and playing computer solitaire. Trying to keep some of that anthing's-possible travel spirit. Vowed to read Guns Germs and Steel (or watch the new PBS miniseries!) and finish a scarf for my niece. Learn piano. And do strength training. We'll see how long that lasts.

Tonight: weight lifting and glazing at ceramics open studio
Tomorrow night: first hat-knitting class
Wed. night: last meeting with volunteer group (I'm quitting) and meeting Michael for a giftie hand-off. His wife Stacy hosted me and my niece Katie a few weeks ago for an afternoon of silkscreening. So cool.

I have a nice life. Awful nice to be back in it. Now, must return a few calls and meet my friend Roger for lunch. Who-hoo!

dinero por oro

Hello, Atlantic City. It's gray and humid in New Jersey. We left New York a day early to try to avoid traveling tomorrow in the remnants of Hurricane Dennis. We'll see how we do, flood-wise.

I gambled tonight. Broke even on video poker, after drawing to a straight, and hit something or other at the slots and won my money back plus a dollar seventy five. Score!

Bought myself a trio of tennis balls, which I'm hoping to roll around on to loosen up my aching back. Alex paid a man $14 to push us 12 blocks in a wicker basket cart. It was fun.

We're are back at the Sheraton, enjoying the skyline of the strip. Bally's is lit up like Christmas and changing colors; Caesar's is topped with Roman pillars ten stories high. Just blocks away, people sit on stoops of dilapidated houses and smoke. There are many pawn shops, all offering money for gold. The shop windows are full of jewelry and chains. It's an odd juxtaposition, to say the least.

I'm just thrilled there's no sales tax on clothing. I gave the Tahari store at the Tropicana $135 and they gave me two sweaters. Sweet!

And I'm learning about the origins of the Miss America pageant, here at 2 Miss America Way. Turns out the pagent began in 1904 (or thereabouts) from a parade of the same sorts of pushable wicker carts we got a ride in tonight. They were award based on the decorations on the outside and oh yes there were pretty girls inside. (Some of the first Miss America's circa 1922 were a mere 16 years old!). That morphed into a sort of shoe competition that continues to this day, only it is not televised. THe lovely ladies of pageantry don goofy and/or unlikely footwear for their ride down the boardwalk. California was a pair of golden sneakers with suns attached. Pennsylvania was recently a silver pump topped with a Hershey's kiss, five inches tall. Hawaii was covered in frangipani, or some such thing.

OK, highlights of NYC: Avenue Q, Doubt, and a visit to the site of the twin towers. Stayed at the Chelsea. Have seen a lot of people having fights. Last one: man in chicken stand arguing with his brother about hot sauce. NY's just different that way. No one says, "Mellow out, dude." Maybe they should. NJ would be improved with a few "I work here. Can I help you?"s. My two cents.

start spreading the news

Flying to JFK tonight to see my baby. He'll pick me up from the airport, we'll take a driving tour of Brooklyn, and then check into our hotel in Greenwich, Conn. I couldn't be more excited.

There is so honkin' much to do in NY. Shows. Got tix for Ave Q, and my sis is trying for Doubt. Galleries. I'm pouring over yesterday's NY Times, and must pick up New York Magazine for more. Restaurants, like Share. The Guggenheim and Met. Crazy cool stuff going on over there on the right coast. It makes me want to relocate.

The thing about night flights is you have all day to wonder what it is you're forgetting. I'm so bored I'm considering getting a haricut which, honestly, I could use. Never put a pair of trimming sheers in the hands of a bored woman. You just never know what you might end up with.

OK, dishes, trash, nap. There is lots to do, really. Have a great 4th, y'all.

new stuff

For times of uncertainty, there is retail therapy. Every day since I learned about being reassigned, I have purchased. There was the trip to Williams-Sonoma, to spend my gift certificate from work. My, that grapefruit spray cleaner is nice. And the Emile Henri loaf pan. New dish and hand towels. And that was just Monday. Since then, there has been Restoration Hardware, Bed, Bath & Beyond, and of course online shopping, where organic socks are available at wholesale prices if you order in bulk. And you wondered what you were getting for Christmas.

Dang. I love being an American.

Dropped $700 on my car today. I am now the proud owner of a new 1.5 something distributor -- a specialty part of the ultra-fuel-effiicent Honda Civic VX. I'm just relieved that the horrendous, two-squirrels-mating-badly noise is gone away. Yay! Thank you, Pat's Garage. They'll be geting more of my money next month, when I do the CV boots and the clutch cylinders.

Saturday I leave for New York, where I meet ALex for what is currently looking like a jaunt all over the place. Hoping to score an apartment swap in Greenwich village to have a wee bit of a home base while I'm away on my one week of vacation this year. FIngers crossed. I've offered a nice man from Craigslist my car, all the beer in my fridge, and a first born or two. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my new non-stick triple teflon 10-inch fry pan (only $12 with a coupon) and my new heavy-duty tea mug finished in Blue Rutile glaze (made it, didn't buy it).

Saw my niece Katie over the weekend. Silk-screened a starfish onto a couple of shirts together. And she helped me pick out shoes -- help I sorely need, as my shoe-buying habits are truly remedial. What can I say? I don't like mey feet that much. Just need to walk on them. Sometimes it sucks to a single, unmarried, quasi-fashion-conscious American woman. THen again, there is the shopping.
Hope everyone is well.
Love,
Aunt Judy

horse-trading

I've been re-orged. My manager Julie and I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Today it did. With a thump. My new boss called during lunch but I didn't take it. It's like being livestock. Your old owner fobs you off on some sub-executive and good luck to you. What's the Tom Waits song? 'You got to git behind the wheel in the morning and plow...' I anticipate walking on gently with someone else's hand on my bridle. Unless I decide to be a bad horsie.

For all life's curveballs, there is yellow chicken curry. Thai ice tea. And lots and lots of chocolate. Later, there will be yarn. Cashmere this time. I promise.

extreme self-care

I have a new program of behavioural modification: I award myself points for doing the above-and-beyond-the-call-of-duty nice things for myself. Seems odd to have to arm-twist for pampering and other self-enrichment activities, but that does seem to be the case.

Here are some examples.
+1 Point for:
moisturizing face mask
sitting meditation
finishing a book or magazine
completing a creative project
writing a short story
working out

Conversely, I subtract points for behaviors I don't want to encourage. Such as...
-1 Point for:
Watching >5 hours of tv or videos per week
playing more than 2 games of Solitaire per day
putting on makeup while driving

When I rack up 5 points, I get to buy yarn. There's a soft, lovely rusty orange wool/cashmere mix I've had my eye on. But boy those points add up slowly! Fortunately, I've learned to meditate while wearing a moisturizing face mask. Tough life.

accident prone

First, it was the biting pinecone. Then, I stepped on a big honkin piece of glass -- in my own apartment. Ther ewas blood and limping. It was very sad. Then I burnt my thumb on a pair of superheated jumper cables. (Apparently I was supposed to ground the negative...) It's been just a terrible week, injury-wise. Although I enjoyed everything else.

Went to Tassajara Zen Mountain resort. It was lovely. I hiked, swam, fell into a stream (*didn't* hurt myself), ate delicious vegatarian cuisine, and sat three periods of zazen. I'd go back in a heartbeat.

I'm hanging in Santa Cruz with Stacy and Michael, who are taking good care of me by feeding me bread with garlic and several glasses of crisp white wine. The beach was fabulous - no great white sharks around at all. The weather rocks. Too bad we can't any of us afford real estate. We could just hang in the sun and BBQ in style, all summer long.

Interstate boyfriend

Evidently, while visiting Salt Lake City, Utah today, my boyfriend Alex visited the Mormon Visitors Center and became acquainted with three young Morman missionary women who tried to turn him on to the Church of Latter Day Saints. (They don't call themselves Mormons, and they believe that there have been several saints after Jesus who have imparted teachings, starting around 400AD.) It sounds like some sort of setup for a religious porn flick; he dubbed himself an "Interstate Playboy." Anyway, he abstained, his Buddhism intact.

He's driving now on the old 40 transcontinental highway. It was raining this morning in Salt Lake City. He ran into a snowstorm on the way to Park Slope, home of the Sundance Film Festival. Now, he's safely ensconced in Vernal, where he's gotten the last room in town -- a suite at the Motel 6 -- due to a livestock show somewhere in the vicinity. He is, he says, in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

How do you know when you're in Utah? "When there are two packets of coffee with the coffee maker in your hotel room, and they're both decaf," Alex says.

Big milestones: today, he visited Muir's Jerky Factory, to stock up for the trip. Tomorrow: Dinosaur National Monument. But first, a sampling of the local cuisine...

a good goodbye

woke up this morning at 4am in Reno, NV. I went with Alex to Lake Tahoe this weekend, then Reno, and flew home this morning. He's probably partway across the Nevada desert by now. Kinda crazy, if you think about it.

We had a great last weekend together. Stayed last night at the Peppermill, which was surprisingly nice, for a casino. Lost $40 in Blackjack, rolled craps dice for the first time, and had a most excellent steak dinner. You can't quite see it in the photo, but there are actually life-size mechanical animals in the pool area. When we arrived, gale-force winds were making whitecaps in the warm pool and the bear was growling...

Yesterday we hiked the Rubicon trail in west Lake Tahoe. Stunning. Alex went on a bit after I stopped for a post-prandial snooze on the beach. He did a bit of rock scrambling and saw a brown bear, hanging out. Then, a bit more scrambling.

Stayed Sat at Tahoe Lake Cottages in Tahoma, ate at Gar Woods, and had a nice hike in Desolation Wilderness, where I got bitten by a pinecone. (We were using them for batting practice and a pointy one opened up my middle finger. Ouch!) For future reference, Cedar Glen Cottages looked like a nice spot to stay.

On Friday I took Alex out for a last night on the town. Met him at the Top of the Mark for drinks, took the cable car to Town Hall for dinner, and then walked the labrynth at Grace Cathedral. San Francisco was at her best.

Alex and I said goodbye this morning. He left his beard, his prayer flags, and his keyboard in California. (I may learn to play this summer.) Me? I've got my heart traveling east through the Nevada desert at the moment. It's okay. I'll survive.

Civic white

Today I went gangbusters. Started this morning by helping Alex clean out his kitchen shelves. He's packing up to move across the country, to spend the summer being around for his parents, who are getting on. When he tired of me taking magnets off his refrigerator and trying to throw away his Tums, I went home, where the rampage continued. I sold books (finally!), gave away clothes, and washed my car. Then, I detailed it, and painted the scratches on the bumpers where many years of parking had taken their toll. Civic white. You wouldn't believe how much wear and tear city driving can bring. Definitely made me think twice about getting a new car.

I am knitting like a fiend. My first scarf is more than halfway done. Amazing. You knit, and this stuff just spools off your needles. It's becoming a bit cumbersome, though. Like carrying around a half-knit scarf.

My knitting teacher rocks -- literally. She's a local singer/songwriter with a lovely sound. Check her out: Brandi Shearer. Her stuff is great. I can't wait to say, yeah, I knew her when. She taught me to purl.

What else? I had a nice swim this evening after a hot, sunny San Francisco day. Gorgeous. I've got the windows open, the setting sun is just about done streaming into my tiny apartment, and I'm sipping a glass of cold Husch chardonnay, a new favorite. California is just grand. Expecting Alex later to help me eat some lentil soup I'm making. I just wish he weren't leaving.

A friend's father passed away this week. It is very sad. I never met him; I was out of town when he visited. But I can only imagine what my friend is going through. It's mighty sobering. I know of 4 people whose parents are having health problems. It's that time, I guess. When you realize the people you love aren't going to live forever.

My little place is tidy and clean. I'll knit some more tonight, and read one of the dozens of books Alex has given me. All in all, a lovely holiday weekend. I can only hope everyone is out, enjoying the sun.

addicted to crafts

I've begun staring at people's knit caps on the subway. Homeless people, even. Is that double seed? Or One x One stitch? Here's what I'm doing for homework this week.

(forgive me, reader. My instruction sheet has been recently sullied by oily cheese, and so I need a clean, ever-present guide for future knitting projects.)

Garter
knit both ways

Stockinette Stitch
Row 1 (RS) Knit
Row 2 (WS) Purl
(beware: edges will curl)

1X1 Rib (good for scarves)
Row 1 (RS) K1, P1
Row 2+ do what you see

Seed Stitch
Row 1 (RS) K1 P1
Row 2+ Do opposite of what you see
(gives a rough, nubbly texture, good with colorway (varigated) yarns)

Double Seed Stitch
(and this is where it really gets complicated)
Row 1 (RS) K1, P1
Row 2 (WS) and all even rows: do what you see
Row 3 and all odd rows: Do opposite of what you see

Drop Stitch
Double-wrap knit stitch, then knit the first loop. Tricky to get even!

I was in a meeting last week and started staring at this pink sweater I bought - on sale. It's not a great sweater, but the yarn's pretty nice - silk. Started considering how to take it apart. Of course, I had to wait, since I was at work and I hadn't anything else to wear. But let me tell you, that thing doesn't have long to live. There's a nice, handknit silk scarf in my future! Now if I can just get home to get my hands on it...

Oh, I've also begun to stare at coffee mugs. I'm considering blowing off a drinking outing to go throw a tiny sake cup at the JCC. Dang, clay and yarn are highly addictive. Like crack, but healthier. And no hangover!

a phlebotomist's nightmare

I have a huge bruise in the crook of my left arm. It sortof makes me look like a junkie. Or, actually, like a junkie in training.

I am hard to draw blood from. But my doctor wants a cholesterol check, and apparently they haven't figured out any way to do that without stabbing a needle in your arm. Or, in my case, using me as a sort of human pin cushion. My least favorite is when they start poking around under the skin, trying to catch a vein. My pretty young blood drawer started a little subdural needle-wiggling and then asks, "Does this hurt?" I lied.

I've been given all sorts of reasons for my circulatory reticence. My veins are deep. Or small. Or they roll. Me? I think they're just crafty.

Fun, action-packed weekend hanging with my boy Alex. We went to see VIctor Wooten and all his bassist friends at the Fillmore, to the Asian Art museum, then a SF street fair with nice baked goods. I had Ethiopian take-out with my college roomates and then met Alex's friends at a bar in the Mission where we made finger puppets out of the heads of crawfish. Today, Alex took me to a Giants game and watched our team limp to a 3-3 tie in the 9th. It was a heartbreaking. I mean, the Nationals? Oy.

Visited artists' open studios at Hunter's Point, ate soem cheese goldfish, and caught an early show of Kung Fu Hustle, which wasn't quite as fun as I'd hoped it would be but was still worth seeing, if you think kitties getting decapitated in midair is funny. It was, kindof. Ate at Chevy's for the first time in a decade, at least. The lardy goodness is really sticking with me, though. I could use a belly bra. In Alex's word, it's like having "eaten a big brown shoe."

Talked to my mother today. Happy Mother's Day! She was home, practicing piano and eating bean soup. My dad was going to take her to bruch, but there was a line out the door, so they went home and ate light. My dad went golfing, and my mom stayed home to get the phone. She really has a lot of children.

I've begun my creative Judy classes. Knitting -- I selected *blue* yarn which I've knit into a long, narorw strip like a tie -- homework. Ceramics starts TuesdayI'm thinking about Aikido, piano, and essay writing. Hello, summer!

OK, got to go rest my belly on something, and maybe have another mug of tea. Rainy night! Cna't believe what a wet spring it's been in the Bay Area. Goodness gracious, as my mom would say. Stay dry everyone.

the fortuneteller said...

...if I took a job, I would have three months with no creative activity. Well, I've had nearly two, and am just sure I can make it to the end of May.

Jobs aren't so bad. Sure, there's the feeling of being trapped, owned, and stuck. But there's also appreciation (I won a $25 award today. Who-hoo!) and, ostensibly, team-building. I could do well at Sun, taking online workshops and learning new skills, like diplomacy. And tact, my boyfriend Alex points out. But I'm not going to hold my breath. One thing I'm sure of: change comes slowly.

My parents were in Phoenix, AZ this past weekend. My dad was golfing with my brothers and my mom was spa-ing and chatting with my sister-in-law. I caught her on her cell phone the day she flew in. (She vowed it was her last plane trip, due to the intensive scrutiny her fake knees attract with airport security.) She was excited. "Oh," she tells me on the phone. "I just saw my first seguaro." It was not, I pointed out, her first big cactus. It was just her first one that trip. Without arms, she said, those are the oldest.

I met the fortuneteller at a party thrown by someone I didn't even know. He was a psychiatrist my friend Loretta met online. This was many months ago, Halloween, in fact, 2004. Anyway, she wasn't interested, so she passed him to me. He played in a band, had a swell sense of humour, and seemed like a good egg. So when he invited us both to his party, we accepted. It was wild. There were maybe 300 people there, in a giant house of four floors and no furniture. He'd moved it all out for the party. The band played, there was dancing. In between sets, there were firejugglers and yes, there was a fortuneteller. "She" seemed tired but read me straight, job opportunity and all. Of course, it wasn't the job I ended up taking, but I figure the same holds true, no matter which company I end up at. Maybe I can shave a few weeks off and take a knitting glass next month.

What happened with the guy? He smiled at me, walked over, and the closer he got, well, the shorter he got. I hadn't read the ad very closely and, to make matters worse, I'd worn heels. I was the Devil in the Blue Dress, an emblem of strained race relations in the 20s, says my brainy friend Roger. (Or maybe he's just seen the movie.) I guess tht made me a real tall glass of water.

It was a strange night. The police came and wandered from room to room while our shirking host evaded them. I broke into the pantry with some folks and watched a man pour olive oil into cups for us, thinking it was wine. But the fortuneteller stayed with me. And so far, her predictions have come true. Maybe I should do something about that. Ceramics, perhaps?

easter sunday

I spent Easter among strangers. And my new boyfriend, Alex. It was nice.

Yesterday we drove to Santa Cruz, where we spent the night at Stacy ad Michael's place there. (They were off on an adventure to Death Valley, which is chock full of wild flowers, with all the rain we've been having. Sounds like a great trip with starry nights and swimming in the desert.) It wasn't the same without them. And their dog, Oona.

Today we accepted an invitation for a Real Easter Dinner from friends of Alex's parents -- a government researcher and his Indian wife who had moved to Monterey from Richmond, Virginia 6 years ago. There were 11 of us -- a man from Uganda, here studying for 4 weeks, a Stanford Poly Sci graduate student, our hosts, their daughter, her (boy?) friend, a Japanese woman and her hipster son, and a man named Duncan. Interesting crew. The lamb was especially good, served with a spicy Indian rice dish with peanuts that kicked ass. And pie. There was really a lot of pie.


I'm up late trying to finish a story -- my last freelance project for Sun Microsystems. The job is making me a bit wacky; last week I got quite overwhelmed with the process-less of it all. It's hard sometimes to know what to do next. I suppose it's normal, after a few weeks on the job and being dropped in the middle of a chaotic redesign project. Still, it sucks not to know what you're doing. Or how.

OK, back to the mines. Happy Easter, everyone.

a word about Pima

Silly me. Turns out Pima cotton, named for the Pima indians who helped establish it as a crop in Arizona, kicks Egyptian's ass. Today, the bulk of it is grown right here in the San Joaquin valley. Here's an article about what a tough time local farmers had with growing conditions for last year's crop. A rainy 2003 shortened the growing season last year, impacting the billion-dollar California cotton industry. Who knew we were growing so much cotton right here in our backyard? Not me. Will wo nders (and sheets and towels) never sease.

The Bedding Queen

Macy's had a big sale this weekend, with an additional 40% off of clearance prices. Plus, when you use your Macy's charge card, they give you another 10% off. It's not like getting 50% off -- it's closer to 46% -- but I went in big anyway.

I have a thing for towels. And sheets. Cloth napkins, and duvet covers. I also branched out this weekend and went in for some anti-allergen pillows. I've decided that besides throwing your old sheets away every five years, you should definitely throw your pillows away. Although my friend Stacy swears by washing them. But I've never tried that. Never. Is that scary or what?

I have a new friend who's a boy. He had never tried washing his bathmat. Perhaps we're all a bit remedial about the things that are so familiar we don't notice them anymore. And so they serve us, underfoot and under cheek, growing increasingly grungy until some external force intervenes. Who knows. But I'm digging the new pillows.

No trip to Macy's (OK, full disclosure, 4 trips) would be complete without a new towel or two. I got a tip from one of the sales women that the best towels in the joint were the Calvin Klein 100% ringspun Pima cotton, and they were half off due to color dicontinuation. I got right on that. She's right. They are extraordinary towels. Soft, absorbant, and not too thick. It's like love.

I also lucked out and found some sale sheets that were not out on the sale tables. So I scored a full set of Charter Club Hotel sheets (ok, color is black, but *still*) for a measy $81. With an extra set of pillowcases. Thread count: 460. Some saleswoman tried to sell me on the Calvin Klein percale, which may be the best sheets Macy's carry. At a low 220 thread count, there is apparently room between the cotton threads for them to fluff up and soften with wear. But I wasn't buying. Even with the triple discount, those suckers still clocked in at $150 a set. Too rich for my blood. And they didn't have a matching set.

Towel advice: look for ringspun cotton for hand (softness) and Egyptian or Pima for quality and durability. Egyptian is famous for longer fibers and a smooth weave. Pima just feels good. Incredibly good. Hang on. I have to go fondle my new towel.

Washing tips: don't use fabric softener when laundering towels. It seals the fabric with a sort of waxy coating that impacts their absorptive qualities. If you slip up, wash them a few times with a little soap only, or with just water, and they'll bounce back. Wash sheets in warm water, never hot. And try not to dry the hell out of them -- this goes for all your clothes. They don't like it.

My best sheets are by Coyuchi. Organic cotton, low thread count (220), and very thick. They get better with each washing and they were pretty good to begin with. I've noticed a more expensive sheet can sometimes feel like it has tiny barbs on it, especially if you put it up against your cheek. The Calvin Klein percale felt like that. But they can really soften up to be incredible. Or, if you paid real bargain prices, they can just stay sandpapery for years and years until you throw them away in a fit of frustration and distaste. I will never buy sheets at Ross Dress for Less again. Ever. You're throwing money away, even if you get 600 thread count pillowcases for $10. Be strong.

Also, look out for a high threadcount sheet that is thin. These are all over right now. DKNY gets gauzy even, which is no good for long-term wear. And forget about fluff. It's not going to happen.

News alert: import quotas on textiles from China were lifted this month, and volumes have picked up tremendously. It will be interesting to see how this impacts the quality of goods on the market, and if it lowers prices. Not sure how they mark sheets; I think weaving and growing take place mostly outside the US. We may be in for better quality sheets (and towels!) at lower prices. Although, there will always be a high end...and sales.

Oh, my first week of work was fine. Didn't do much besides fight with my new UNIX environment. But it's coming around. I shall ride the employment beast. I'm just sure of it.

a good goodbye

Today I move the last of my stuff out of the architectural office. It's good to leave something good and move on to something better. Or, at least, different. It's just that it's hard to remember that, when your stupid mammalian brain is thinking, but wait, it's great here. Where are you taking me? What if Sun's office isn't any fun at all? They won't have Friday Treats. Or Pivot bread. Or bagels or pastries left over from morning client meetings. Hmm. There'll be no Joe, popping his head around corners and making goo-goo eyes at me. Scott won't be there to say, "What's up Judy D.?" I won't be able to talk about sociology and science with Keith T. (I still haven't read the Elegant Universe.) or commisserate with Janie about men. And there definitely won't be any 23-year-old structural engineers to flirt with. (Frankly, these occur fairly rarely in nature.)

But there will be free rent, and easy access to Sun's intranet. And a steady paycheck and training and new skills and a budget. Job responsibility and benefits and a career path (ostensibly). These are all good things. And if I miss the folks at Huntsman too much, I can always go back and visit. Plan lunches. Attend treats. Set up drinking engagements. And if that's not enough, I can always move back in and pay for it myself. I mean, there's more than one way to skin a cat.

The bottom line is, I will be missed, and I will miss not being there. But, you gotta be somewhere. And Sun is a pretty good place. Maybe I'll go hang out with Jonathan Schwartz, or Kathy and Angie and Ed. Or, meet new folks who will brighten my days.

You just never know.

Love story

Michael turned 48 today. He doesn't look a day over 39. We won't mention here how he acts. Suffice it to say I bought him an easy-to-catch ball. Oona killed it in minutes.

Michaels' surfing buddy Peter came down to Santa Cruz for the big celebration, which was going to be a night out dancing but turned into an early night of sleeping. But I digress. Peter has a new girlfriend, Julia, and she is really great. They met -- get this -- at the Irwin Memorial Blood Bank. She is a nurse there and he donates fairly regularly. (Pete is a good guy that way.) So he's filling out the form and he has to disclose any injuries in the past 6 months, or whatever. And so he has to tell them about the shark attack.

Of course, this drew a great deal of attention, there at the blood bank, so his nurse had to take him into a private office. Julia's first line for him: "I'll show you my scar if you show me yours." (Apparently, she was not in fact bitten by a shark. However, she was once married, so perhaps that qualifies.) Anyway, they are adorable together and it was great fun to see P so happy.

Me? I'm pretty blissed out. I just bought an airline ticket to Kauai, where I've been wanting to visit for years. At the moment I'm going solo, but there's a good chance the New Guy will join me out there for a few days. Either way, I'm snorkeling, and getting a tan. (OK, disclaimer. I don't actually tan. But I toast up a bit before I crisp.)

Really, the only thing that would make me any happier is if, after my vacation, I came home to some new art. There are two pieces -- a woodcut and an intaglio -- that I have my eye on at the Tinhorn Gallery, which is apparently the only place I buy art. Perhaps that's because it's the only place I can afford to buy art.

It's raining softly and steadily here in SF tonight, as it has been for days. The skiing is, I'm sure, great. Friends are going to the Claire Tappan Lodge this weekend in the Sierras for some hut-to-hut cross-country skiing. I want to go, too, but I have to move my office and otherwise adjust to the changing circumstances of my life. It's going to be very sad to leave Huntsman. It's been a happy 3 years there, among the architects, and I have made some dear friends. At least I can try not to come in dead last in this year's Oscar contest.

My love affair with my new vaccuum clearner continues. Today I cleaned my baseboards. It was great. I also vaccuumed my couches, mattress, and pillows. I'm sure there is more to do. Too bad it doesn't have an auto-retract cord.

Finally, I am going to start reading the newspaper again. My 4 month hiatus is finally taking a toll. I have gotten stupid and self-centered. I suppose it was just a matter of time.

Chin up, and all my best,
Judy

gainfully employed

Well holy smokes I'm a Sun employee. Today I signed things and sent them places and starting March 7, I am something called a Managing Editor. (It was the best title I could come up with at the time.) Thinking of flying to Kauai to celebrate. "Stay in Hanalei Bay," my boss says.

("boss")

Saw "The Life Aquatic" last night. It took me halfway through before I thought, 'this is just like I Heart Huckabees.' Indeed, Wes Anderson was at it again, and I think he hired the same ding ding ding electronic musician for part of the score. Although the Portuguese renditions of Bowie's greatest hits were pretty awesome.

My friend Ginger and I had a delightful dinner at Mel's diner, and helped ourselves to a couple of Valentine's balloons on our way out. I painted her a Valentine on a red metal water bottle. (Trying to wean my friends and loved ones off plastic.) It was all rather romantic.

Off to Santa Cruz this weekend for M's birthday. Hoping for better weather! It's been rainy and gray for days, it seems. Big news: I've bought my first real vaccuum cleaner. It's very snazzy and even has an attachment that rotates. Talk about getting things together.

OO,
Judy

milestones of adulthood

Today was a red letter day. I put the last of my milk crates out on the sidewalk. These rectangular residues of my college years are the last vestige of a nomadic lifestyle. Stack them to make a dresser; pick 'em up and move them without ever touching the contents. They were brilliant and, if you hit the Safeway parking lot on the right night, free.

Yesterday I discovered the wonders of the Container Store. I replaced the crates with stackable wire shelving that neatly divides my sheets and blankets into small shelves. Awesome.

Valentine's Day is coming up, that most Hallmark of holidays. My mother is going to choir practice. (She sings in the Rochester Oratorio and once traveled to Rome to give a concert.) My dad is staying home. I guess after 54 years of marriage, you're entitled to rest on your romantic laurels.

Not me. I'm going to a Commonwealth Club lecture given by Andrew Sean Greer, author of best-selling love story The Adventures of Max Tivoli. I haven't read it yet but I hear it's great. So I get to go see what a real writer looks like, and hear stories of unbridled love and reverse aging.

Lots has happened since I last wrote. I've interviewed for a job at Sun -- my boss' job, actually -- and it looks like they're going to make me an offer on Monday. After much hemming and hawing, I've decided it's a great opportunity with people I already know I can work for. So that's cool.

I've started seeing one of them men I met online. Who knew the Internet could be so handy? My work buddy Ben has been transferred to Los Angeles, so a lot of the fun has left my cube neighborhood. Now, it's all engineers, and veeeery quiet. What else? Oh yeah. I've got a life coach. My friend Peggy and I share him to try to jumpstart our fiction writing. So far, so good. He's given us daily writing assignments and makes us telephone with a confirmation that we've completed it. It's pretty gruelling but it works. I've written every day in Feb. Just, ahem, not in my blog.

Talked to my dear friend Sarah in New Zealand. She, Andy, and the twins are digging it. They go see fumeroles and buy possum fur socks (they call it "possum wool" there) and generally have a nice time in their gorgeous house. Cost of living is cheap there -- except heat. First, it was hard to find a house with any heat at all. They found out why when they go ttheir first bill -- for $500. I guess that's what you get when you're an ocean away from an oil pipeline. Sarah and Andy return in August after three years of living abroad. It will be great to have them back.

My friend Ginger is finishing up massage school. I get to enjoy her training tomorrow during my FREE Training Massage tomorrow afternoon. She called with a reminder to not eat too much and drink plenty of water.

My aestetician is pregnant. She's in her 40s, and she and her husband had given up, when she heard about this acupuncture doctor in my neighborhood. A couple dozen needles, stinkbomb herbs, and a strict diet later, and she's with child. She's hella happy.

Me? The maternal tiemclock is ticking, although mostly fairly faintly. We'll see. I hear it all kicks in when you turn 38, like a blind raging influx of hormonal desperation that overrules concerns like, how will I live without sleep?

Off to some ragin' parties on a Saturday night. I'm gonna get wasted! (Which, at my age, means having a second beer.) Love to all, and congratulations to Mike, for a safe return and many excellent photos of the Iraqi election. It owuld be nice to have a Pulitzer in the family, eh?

Benjamin Loves to Cuddle!

As many of you know, I have been Internet dating. It's an interesting way to meet new people, although sometimes the degree of intimacy people presume with strangers is a bit, well, arresting. (See title.)

The upside is, amidst all these choices (I think I have 50 candidates in my eHarmony inbox), it makes you get really clear about what sort of partner you're looking for. For example, I'm of the school that absolute honesty is not always the best policy, at least up front. Sure, I want a guy who likes to cuddle, but do I want a guy who likes to talk about how much he enjoys that particular activity? Not really. The Brave New World of dating in frought with pitfalls. I can only feel a bit sorry for us all.

The weather is spectacular in SF. Warm, sunny, blue sky, and a light breeze.
I'm not working again today, due to a sudden dearth of projects and a persistent cough, but I'm planning to go in later and put in some hours on my volunteer project.

It's getting more fun, now that we're approaching a site architecture. The clients are starting to see what they can do, and also be realistic about what they don't want to take on. It's nice to be able to get a bit excited with them about the types of services they're delivering to handicapped children, and how they do outreach online and represent themselves in the best light.

It's even made me think that I might enjoy doing this: working on non-commercial Web sites, and pushing my own personal envelope by learning HTML, maybe get some design skills. I could become a one-woman band for getting non-profits online. I am inspired by my cousin, who's working to create a blogging utility for hundreds of Iraqi women. Its amazing to think that tech tools might assist in accelerating social change: putting peole in touch with each other and ideas in a way that wasn't possible a few years ago. Now, we just need to get the world wired for wireless Internet access. Especially my apartment.

New conundrum: is surfing on someone else's wireless DSL connection stealing? I'm leaning toward yes, even while I'm doing it. (Bad Judy.) Seems like it's getting harder and harder to resist the temptation to get something for nothing. My friend S just sent me a pirated CD. I mean, where am I going to draw the line here? Cable. I'll draw the line at cable. And wait, guiltily, for business models to change.

Happy February, everyone. My bro Mike is due home the 8th. My parents left yesterday to fly to New Orleans, and take in a little pre-Mardi Gras fun.

Birthdays this month: my sister Susan, nieces Lynn and Zannie, M in Santa Cruz, and my old friend Sarah in New Zealand. Good golly, where is the time going?

notes from Asilomar

The world is a beautiful place when you have a new laptop. The sea sparkles. The sun shines. And the Pacific washes up white on the beaches of northern California.

I've taken my new T42 ThinkPad down the coast to the Asilomar Conference Center in Pacific Grove for a night -- a kind of micro-vacation after a crazy three weeks of work. So far, so good.

I've got a room in a historic building designed in 1917 by Julia Morgan for the YWCA. It's got a view of the Pacific and the world's smallest bathroom. It's perfect. The grounds are gorgeous and everything smells good, like cypress and live oak. They've put boardwalks through the sand dunes, so you can walk around without squishing any native species, and trundle down to the beach to watch the sun set and dip your feet in the frigid water. There are a lot of seabirds, and people out walking with dogs of all sizes. The sand squeaks.

It's warm here, probably 70s. Kid were running around in swimsuits and shorts. Surfers were out; the swell was gianormous but breaking badly. At the end of the beach, there's a fabulous golf course -- could be Pebble Beach. With all the rain we've been getting, the hills are emerald green. That's winter in California, for you.

I'm pleased to report that the conference center has free wireless Web access, so I can surf by the fire in the lodge. Which is good because I apparently have to work tomorrow. ;-( A man has begun to play the piano. It's a very nice scene.

I'm calling this my first, and probably last, company off-site. The board is going to convene over dinner, I think, and discuss plans to get out of the freelance writing business. Sun Microsystems has a job for me, and I'm probably going to take it. I dig the company, I know I like the people, and the culture's right for me. Too bad $7 billion can't last forever. Still, it's stability, of a sort.

I haven't heard any news yet of my brother's return from Iraq, or how the elections went for him. He said in his blog that it's like preparing for a hurricane there; everything's closed down for voting day. Looks like it wasn't bloodless. Here's the CNN story -- 28 deaths, and a vote count underway.

confessions of a cable-jacker

OK, I steal cable. In a fit of remorse yesterday I detached the happy white line and watched (gasp) regular television. Seinfeld was on.

There are many rationalizations for receiving a service that you're not paying for, and remaining guilt-free about it. I didn't actually hook it up; a friend did. They're not losing any money on me because I wouldn't pay for it anyway. And the best one, it's not really stealing.

But is it? I put the question to five coworkers tonight and, with one exception, they said don't worry about it.* Few things in this life are free; better enjoy them when they come along. Besides, Comcast overcharges for things like hooking up each room, and they overcharge and don't live up to their special offers. 3 of 5 of us had received cable for free at some point, and none had remorse.

Maybe that's the right attitude. But there's something that doesn't feel so wholesome about it. And what's really been bugging me is how much TV I've been watching. In the last six months, I'd developed a fond relationship with season 4 of Sex in the City, Detroit Animal Cops, and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Sure, I don't have to go to friends houses anymore. The world just opens up right there through my television screen, with just the click of a button.

I can go home and hook up the cable again. I can call the company and find out how much basic cable costs. I can rejoin NetFlix, which is pretty fabulous, and rent all those documentaries I'd like to see, like 7 Up and all the other Ups.

Anyway, whether it's ethics or morality of just plain bad behavior, for now, the cable stay uncabled. So there. Maybe I'll sleep just a little better in my halo of goodness. At least, I'll sleep more, since there are no more bad movies to watch...

*Addendum: When I put the issue to the folks who were *working* late at the office (instead of *drinking* late) the data skewed very differently. One Good Guy even paid me a high compliment: "Well, I'm sure you meant to pay." I had to correct him. In his case, he had to convince the cable company to charge him. They came to his house, hooked up the cable, gave him the box, and left. No bill ever arrived. Every time he called to complain that he wasn't being charged, the service person told him that he wasn't a subscriber (so go away). "They made it really hard," Good Guy said. "To pay." So I dedicate this here blog entry to the folks who do the right thing, because it's the right thing to do. Last night, I surfed through all those channels of static -- and watched the local news.

Mike in Iraq

My brother has arrived in Iraq. He's blogging and taking photos. There's a even a photo of him -- he looks a bit like an action hero in body armour. You can find all this by clicking around on the main NOLA site.

So, my employment situation is not going to change, after all. Dodged that bullet. Business is good. One of the excutives I wrote a script for last week hired me to write a white paper positioning the company's marketing plans for the next two years. It's due Thursday. They haven't sent anything yet. So it's going to be a busy week.

Turns out a guy I met through my Internet dating service is friends with someone I used to work with at WebWeek. Small world. We're all going out for a drink and to see a singer named Lhasa de Sela on Wednesday. This is the third time this has happened. Last time, a psychiatrist I met worked with my ex at SF General. It's like one degree of separation in this town. Maybe it's time to move, after all. (Kidding.)

I have begun to write fiction, thanks to new daily assignments from my life coach. More on this soon.

costa rica dreaming

My parents are going to Costa Rica in Feb. Lucky ducks. I have dreams of joining them, or at least meeting up with them for a day or two. (They're doing a resort thingie.)Flights are incredibly cheap -- less than $400 -- from SF to SJO. I could see the cloud forest, and practice my spanish. Hmmm.

It's looking less and less likely that I'll be taking a job, after all. First of all, the guy hasn't responded. Not a peep. And secondly, I'm feeling like I've dodged a bullet, which is not exactly the same feeling as disappointment. So the logical conclusion is to keep on keeping on. One of the executives I worked with yesterday is hiring me to write a brochure, so I start meeting with the big boys of solutions marketing on Friday. Should be good.

Another reason not to take a job: my client/manager/boss at Sun did something yesterday she really never does: she told me what to do. Specifically, to write another script by noon today. I was thinking about this, when I got up at 9am, lingered over coffee, and got in at 11am. I don't take direction well. Still, the script got done on time.

Lots of people are leaving SF. Three members of my book club headed to points east. For jobs, relationships. Today we had a going away lunch for S in the office, who's going to school in LA this spring. She wants to be an actress. I say, good on ya.

The rain has stopped for now, so SF is looking like a nice place to be. Chilly, but sunny, and blue sky and calm rippling bay and lots of good eats. There are worst places to be. Like Iraq.

headed to the middle east

My brother M left for Iraq on Friday. He should have arrived by now. His photos will appear on this New Orleans
news site.

The last the family heard M was in a nice hotel in Kuwait, sleep-deprived and awaiting deployment with the Louisiana National Guard. So far, the only dangerous encounter has been with the Lufthansa stewardresses, who ran loaded beverage carts into his person. Poor M.

I have now had two evenings of drinking in 2005. Went to a fun party of older adults with my friends S and M on Saturday night. Someone told a story about putting Depends on their dog. Someone else talked about going through customs afraid their fake Rolex would land them in trouble. Strange, someone else told me the exact same story earlier in the day, about being accused of dealing drugs in Thailand. Oops.

Anyway the pate was good. Even though S won't eat it, and never has. ("Do you know what they do to those poor geese?") Mmm, liver.

My life is work. I am writing scripts again, which is actually pretty fun. Better if it weren't on a Sunday night. Then again, Friday afternoon was sortof like a whole day off.

I tried to accept the Autodesk job -- a chance to learn new skills and manage people and all that -- but the nice man hasn't taken the time to respond, so it's up in the air still. In the meantime, my office rent is due, so I think I'll see the month out, at least.

A super social weekend. Saw someone's fat new baby. Ate too much ice cream. Swam, made shrimp salad for the first time, and changed my sheets. Next stop: laundromat.

really a lot of whisky

It's Friday and folks here at Huntsman AG are celebrating with an Irish cultural appreciation Happy Hour. Read: 4 Irish coffees and I'm ready (sortof) to take the bus home.

My life is complicated. I emailed the nice man at Autodesk on Tuesday (TUESDAY!) that yes, please, I'd like to take a job with him, and heard back... nothing. It's very frustrating. I know he's wildly busy. But STILL.

Work at Sun is going great guns, so there's nothing to worry about there. OK, it's chaotic and nutty, but it's keeping me in cashmere sweaters and zippy new hair-dos. (Dang, do I ever look cute.) Hmm. Maybe I'll go shoe shopping.

Yet another wild Friday night in SF...
OO,
Judy