The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love

After staying up too late doing nothing in particular, I got a 7:30am phone call.  Am I available to fill in a sub spot for 8th graders?  "Yes," I said, "I can do that." Commence a mad dash around the house, in and out of the shower, making sure I'm wearing shoes with heels to augment my height, tossing food into my mouth, throwing together a lunch, and checking that my shirt comes up high enough soas to not pull a Hillary.  I realize that this adrenaline rush isn't going to last forever, and hurry some black tea into a travel mug.  It's not as much caffeine as I'd like to have for this occasion, but it's better than nothing.

fast forward seven hours

Well, nothing caught on fire.  I managed to maintain an almost dead calm the entire day.  Anything else would have been just Too Much.

Strangely, this type of temping still feels better to me than does temping in the form of filing papers inside a highrise.

So Far, So Good

So far, I'd have to say that 2008 is aok.

Cheek to Cheek

I am a dancer. I've always been a dancer. It's part of who I am, and who I'd like to continue to be. Dancing took a back seat while in grad school, but present circumstances are allowing for more opportunities to dance than I've had in a while. Ballroom, swing, morris, 80's... you name it, and I'll be lacing up the appropriate shoes.

I was a tad frustrated at the Edwardian Ball this weekend. It was my first time in attendance, and while there was definitely eye candy all 'round, there wasn't as much dancing as I'd anticipated. While the bands (all very fun) were playing, the goths just weren't dancing. They weren't even goth dancing (once very accurately described to me as "being on fire in slow motion"). There were specific points in the program meant for ballroom dancing, but isn't all music made for dancing?

Sheesh.

In related news, tailcoats are the bomb.  Doesn't really matter what kind; they can traditional, they can be goth, but they should just be, early and often.

Enjoy this example of a tailcoat in proper action (and the dress ain't half-bad, either).

"...before they made real video games."

So I was in said Local Coffeeshop, when I heard this:

"So my dad is like an expert at Pac Man...from college...you know, before they made real video games..."

The senior high school girls sitting behind me were trying to figure out how to play the tabletop Ms. Pac Man machine. It was one of those new-fangled tabletops, where you can choose among several "classic" games. After their first round, I heard them going through the list, "Donkey Kong...what's that? Centipede...I don't know any of these!"

I couldn't stop myself from turning around and saying, "Centipede is one of the best games ever - you should try it." They asked how to play and I offered to coach them through a session ("If you see a little spider coming at you, you need to get it fast") but $1 was a bit steep for a game and they turned their attention elsewhere.

Net result: I felt at once "old", and yet superior in my taste in video games.

I resisted telling them to run out and see "The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters", a fabulous David and Goliath style documentary, featuring a mild-mannered Bellevue, WA resident against a Floridian hot sauce magnate... you just have to see it.

I think their dad would like it.

They're Following Me

I am quite suddenly experiencing so many blasts from the past that I wouldn't be that surprised if I looked outside and saw people sporting bell bottoms.

Pumped Up and (I Hope) Staph Free

Just finished cleaning up after checking out the 24 Hour Fitness, literally across the street. I need to get myself back into the gym and have friends who are satisfied customers, so I thought I'd give it a try. It's a "circuit training" facility, meaning that you spend one minute on each of twentysomething machines. This bodes well for my college-developed mantra, "If you save everything until the last minute, it only takes a minute," but the by-the-books health and safety side me me wants more evidence (see previous sunscreen and earplug post). My previous gym experience included hand-picking a trainer (I selected the one pursuing her PhD in exercise stuff), and then getting a personalized workout plan, complete with math. The circuit scene is very much one size fits all.

It's proving difficult to find any articles that aren't sponsored by a circuit training outfit, but if they're out there, I'll find them. Oh yes, I will find them.

Joining a gym also sports an alluring air of danger due to a big ole staph epidemic making the rounds in the Bay Area right now.

The L Word

"L" is for "Lifeline". The lifeline that I keep ripping back to, or one of four or five at my disposal. I knit for about three hours today, and the jury's out on whether any actual progress has been made. The lacelike object currently vexing me is the Shetland Triangle Shawl, from Wrap Style. I am working it in Elsebeth Lavold's Silky Tweed, color Claret, size 8 KP Options Needles. Loving the points, particularly after going back to some older projects and working with with non KP needles.

I continue to be amazed at the persistence I display when it comes to this hobby, because usually, giving up is a far more attractive option.