Friday, July 27, 2012

Oh, goody. Sickie's got bullet points.

I left work early today with a fever.

Normally, as you know, sickness means two things for me:
  • grumpiness, and
  • blogging

Today, I think I have worked through the grumpiness, but not the blogging. I also might not have worked through the mild lightheadedness which is totally not to say delirium.

So you get every random thought in my head right now:
  • I really like the (real) wood paneling in my house.
  • My new favorite drink consists of 3/4 cup gin, one 12-ounce can ginger beer, 1 cup lemonade (serves four).
  • My new second favorite drink consists of half a glass of lemonade and half a glass of ginger beer (serves me, repeatedly).
  • My new third favorite drink is hibiscus peppermint iced tea.
  • This show "Traffic Light"? Isn't bad.
  • That show, "Take Me Out"? Kind of is, but I have watched every episode anyway.
  • Regarding that, I can understand people wanting to wait until they're married, but doesn't buying a ring for your hypothetical future wife you haven't met yet suggest that you're not able to approach women as individuals, who might have specific tastes (or ring sizes) (or metal allergies)? Or is a man who does that playing it Cinderella-style, where the woman who likes the ring and can wear it is his One True Love?
  • I already shared this on the CMC Facebook page, but I need Joe to see it, too. As I said there, "I don't care how you feel about this song, this version is adorable. And sort of crowded."
  • I really wish I was watching the Opening Ceremonies. Don't worry, I'll watch them later. You were worried, right? That's sweet of you.
  • Sweat is just gross sometimes. And there's, like, a lot.
  • No, wait. Lying around sweat is gross. Sweat from working out or hiking or something is, like, pure.
  • I think the thermometer might be in the living room.
  • 99.0! Woo-hoo ibuprofen!
  • I had another thought, but now it's gone. Damn.
  • I had a hilarious conversation earlier today that I can't share yet. I'll set it up for tomorrow.
  • Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad. 

Monday, July 16, 2012

Tips for not seeming super-creepy

One of many things that came up in the family was a long-ago internet episode that embarrassed two family members and a bunch of morris dancers. The theme of that story is "we don't always know how we're perceived by others."

In that vein, let's say you think you might like a person, but you don't know if she likes you.

Let's walk through some of the steps you might take in pursuing this friendship.

  1. Even though she is a complete stranger, introduce yourself in a flirtatious manner. [Hint: Stop here to evaluate response.]
  2. When her response is to shut down to the point of semi-open hostility, continue to chat and tease her about how quiet she is. [Hint: Stop. She is not interested.]
  3. If, over the course of weeks, you often see her with her friends, wait until they leave and then approach her when she is alone. [Hint: Stop. This is mildly creepy.]
  4. Suggest, on one of these approaches, that she should not have ordered food without you but should instead have ordered food that you can share. [Hint: Stop. This is creepier.]
  5. Ask where she lives. [Hint: Stop. Super creepy.]
  6. When she gives you a town name, ask for a street name. [Hint: Stop. You have taken what could have been a positive sign, that she did not resist your creepiness and instead gave you an answer, and took it to a new level of creepy rather than just holding off to see where it went.]
  7. Tell her where you live, explain that you have a farm with goats and chickens but not pigs anymore. Ask if she likes animals. [Hint: Stop. The farm business could have been innocent enough, but her guard is already up, and "do you like animals?" feels like there's something creepy behind it, even if there isn't.]
  8. When her friends come back, ask one of them if she thinks you have a chance with "the one in the white pants." [Hint: Stop. You have tipped the friend off to the fact that you are hitting on a woman whose name you don't know, and have been for a couple weeks. Creepy, regardless of the friend's response.]
  9. The friend says no, and explains that the woman you are hitting on is on a lesbian bowling team, and that the woman in question doesn't so much date men, and you are a man. [Hint: Stop. Seriously, dude, you are barking up the wrong tree, even if you weren't a creep.]
  10. Wait until the friend leaves, and then call the woman in question by name, and ask again where she lives. Push for increasing levels of specificity, down to the house number. [Hint: Stop. She does not date men, and she knows you didn't know her name 20 minutes ago, and you have absolutely, irrevocably passed the point at which she might have been even your friendly bowling alley acquaintance. At this point, you are kind of lucky she isn't calling the police.]

In which I demonstrate the skills I claimed in the last post

Reader nyczoo asked for clarification on the familial relationships. I tried to explain thus: 
  • Siblings have a common set of parents
  • First cousins have a common set of grandparents
  • Second cousins have a common set of great-grandparents
  • etc.
"X times removed" is the number of generations off you are.
So, my first cousin and I share grandparents. Her sons and I share common ancestors, but they're skewed by one generation (my grandparents are their great-grandparents).
So we are first cousins once removed.
And then I tried to get into the advanced forms, and decided it would be easier to do a drawing, which is what I always do in person.

Here:















Click to make it larger if that's helpful.

Alice and Bob are married; their children, Cathy and Eric, married Dean and Fern, respectively.
So Henry and Karen are first cousins. Got it?
Henry would therefore be first cousin once removed to Nancy's son Ted.
Henry's daughter Ophelia is second cousin to Ted (same generation, share great-grandparents Alice and Bob).

Even more advanced:
If, in the picture above, George and Jerry are siblings to each other, Penny and Quincy are double first cousins.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Things I learned from a week of having family around, some of them as houseguests


  • 12 people's disparate tastes take up a lot of space in the fridge, though they narrow the possibilities for dinner to salmon or Manhattan clam chowder. Heck, in my family, 12 people's disparate tastes in beer alone can fill up the fridge completely.
  • If you put an unsealed bag of coffee in the trunk of your car sideways, you'll get coffee all over the space heater and board games and lumber you're storing in your trunk.
  • If the best family characteristic of your family is a fantastic and shared sense of humor, and the worst is an inability to plan, then: overall win. 
  • Two 12-ounce bags of oyster crackers is too many. Like, way too many.
  • You need to listen to every old family story, even the ones you've heard a million times, because somewhere in there, at some point, someone will add a nuance or an offhand remark or a whole new story that will blow. your. mind. This will sound to members of my family like I am talking about one thing, but they will each be thinking of different things. That is how often my mind was blown this week.
  • Different people have different roles in an extended family. This is not all I do, but some of my strengths are: having many beds in my house; being willing to draw a family tree on any scrap of paper; keeping straight the differences between first cousins, second cousins, and first cousins once removed. Oh, and being ready to go. Usually.
  • There is never enough one-on-one time to get all your questions answered.
  • Some of the highlights of a week like this will be sunsets, and hikes, and experiences. A lot of them? Will be short snippets of conversations.
  • No matter how much you love your guests, no matter how much fun you have with them, if you otherwise live alone, you will be ready to take your pants off when they leave. And also, maybe then you'll spontaneously fall asleep mid-blog-post.
  • When your houseguests return to their lives, they will likely forget something. In this case, "something" means a big pink water bottle and a bottle of shampoo. So far.

Things I learned from two full weeks of dogsitting

  • The most desirable place in my yard to poop is the property line with my neighbors.
  • If a dog isn't allowed on the bed, and you agree with that philosophically and also respect the dog's owner's wishes, but nonetheless aren't feeling well and would like to snuggle with a doggie, you can lie down on the couch as if it were a bed and have the dog come up there. As long as the dog is allowed on the couch.
  • Dogs are better at opening doors than they are at closing them behind them.
  • There is always an adult male fishing at Robin Hood Park. He may have a child or a woman or another adult male or no one with him, but he is always there. Not always the same adult male; I think they must have a schedule to be sure all shifts are covered.
  • A small dog with a big-dog bark will scare mice away.
  • When you return a dog to his owners, with "all his stuff," you will likely forget something. In my case, "something" means food dish, water dish, placemat food and water dish sit on, fleece blanket, destroyed stuffed elephant, destroyed tennis ball, and two sticks of rawhide. So far.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

3rd of July

...so now it's July, and I'm committed to writing three posts a week, and it's late Tuesday, and I have very little to say. Oh, well, you know my motto, "when in doubt, make a list." Things I should be doing:
  • Finishing up my self-paced online music appreciation class that started in May and ends Saturday. I, um, just took the midterm. But hey, I got a 95! Specifically:
    • Completing classes,
    • Researching the vibraphone,
    • Writing a “concert attendance report” on the opera I went to last week,
    • Writing two other short assignments
  • Finding a dentist. Part of my tooth fell out last night.
  • Cleaning my house in anticipation of the family who will visit soon. Specifically:
    • Making the office inhabitable for me.
    • Putting away the clothes that are on the bed in my room.
    • Cramming the costumes back into the costume trunk in the guest room.
    • Tidying the living room.
  • Going to the dump. Trash pickup here is so expensive, but not having trash pickup involves actually remembering to go to the dump at a time the dump is open.
  • Making dinner.
  • Going to the bank.
  • Going to the drugstore.


  • Things I have been doing instead:

    • Playing with the dog I'm dog-sitting.
    • Feeding the cat I'm cat-sitting.
    • Reading an old Danielle Steele novel in the interest of keeping said cat company.
    • Playing video games.
    • Watching the Seven Up series (which, no kidding, if you haven't seen, you must)
    • Watching crappy TV with much less redeeming social value than the Seven Up series
    • A little bowling (not very much, seriously)
    So, yeah, I should get back to that top list. How about you? What's new?