I hate being ill. But I kind of like the word "sickly."
It sounds so much better to say that I'm feeling "sickly" than to say that I'm feeling "sick." After all, for about 70% of my day, today, I felt fine. There were just a few times in the middle of the day when I felt awful.
So I was "sick-ish" or "mildly unwell" or "not up to par," but I didn't feel like I could say I was "sick." Although, I did announce upon arrival in the office this morning that I am placing the blame for my state of health squarely upon each and every co-worker who has been sick for the past couple of weeks.
So I think I'm going to try to bring back the word "sickly." Because, really, that's how I'm feeling.
And when you're feeling sickly, who is going to argue with you?
(I highly recommend that you agree with me, or else I'm going to come to your house and lick your keyboard. And I am *so* not kidding.)
Monday, April 29, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Spring Fever
Pretty much everyone in my office has been sick, lately. Lots of sneezing and noses being blown, and I've been avoiding everyone as much as possible.
My desk is as far away from everyone else's as it can be. Unfortunately, it's still in the same closed environment.
So, when one of my co-workers was sick enough about 10 days ago that she fainted in her apartment and had to go to Urgent Care the next morning to make sure she hadn't broken anything, I made sure she was okay, but didn't get too close.
When people ran out of tissues, I didn't point out the box on my desk, I instead got them their own boxes from the office supply stash.
When someone else said that she was feeling horrible and debating going home, I lobbied loud and long for her to just go home. I know that burning sick time isn't fun, but I just didn't want to have to deal with the possibility of getting sick.
I especially didn't want to think about the idea of getting sick right before the first absolutely gorgeous weekend of the year. And I shrugged off the strange inability to focus at the end of the week - figuring that it was caused by the subject matter that I was editing.
This morning, after doing some quick spring garden prep, I came in with itchy eyes, a runny nose, and blotchy skin from my wrists to my elbows. Nope - not a cold. Just an allergic reaction to the ornamental grasses I was cutting back. (It happens every year.)
But, as the afternoon wore on, I felt more and more tired. I napped for over an hour, but still couldn't get my energy back. I blamed the Benadryl (taken to combat the allergic reaction to the grass), and slammed back some caffeine.
Then Christopher and I started to get ready to go out tonight - to our first outdoor Saturday evening event of the season. Glorious weather - in the upper 60s, with not a hint of rain (or snow). And Christopher looked over at me and said "Maybe you should just stay home."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to put up a protest and prove that I was fine to go out. I did pout and whine a little, but that kind of took it out of me. So I begrdugingly agreed and sent him on his way before putting my pajamas on.
Spring fever - in any form - sucks.
My desk is as far away from everyone else's as it can be. Unfortunately, it's still in the same closed environment.
So, when one of my co-workers was sick enough about 10 days ago that she fainted in her apartment and had to go to Urgent Care the next morning to make sure she hadn't broken anything, I made sure she was okay, but didn't get too close.
When people ran out of tissues, I didn't point out the box on my desk, I instead got them their own boxes from the office supply stash.
When someone else said that she was feeling horrible and debating going home, I lobbied loud and long for her to just go home. I know that burning sick time isn't fun, but I just didn't want to have to deal with the possibility of getting sick.
I especially didn't want to think about the idea of getting sick right before the first absolutely gorgeous weekend of the year. And I shrugged off the strange inability to focus at the end of the week - figuring that it was caused by the subject matter that I was editing.
This morning, after doing some quick spring garden prep, I came in with itchy eyes, a runny nose, and blotchy skin from my wrists to my elbows. Nope - not a cold. Just an allergic reaction to the ornamental grasses I was cutting back. (It happens every year.)
But, as the afternoon wore on, I felt more and more tired. I napped for over an hour, but still couldn't get my energy back. I blamed the Benadryl (taken to combat the allergic reaction to the grass), and slammed back some caffeine.
Then Christopher and I started to get ready to go out tonight - to our first outdoor Saturday evening event of the season. Glorious weather - in the upper 60s, with not a hint of rain (or snow). And Christopher looked over at me and said "Maybe you should just stay home."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to put up a protest and prove that I was fine to go out. I did pout and whine a little, but that kind of took it out of me. So I begrdugingly agreed and sent him on his way before putting my pajamas on.
Spring fever - in any form - sucks.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Spring
Having seen a cardinal on a branch of the bush just outside the bathroom window just a couple of days ago, when he was perfectly offset by the pure white snow-covered backyard, the fact that I'm posting about spring seems kind of incredible.
But, in fact, I believe spring might be on its way. It was sunny and only 10 degrees cooler than average today. Tomorrow we might get up to average temps. And we might even see 70 degrees on the weekend.
When I was walking the dog this evening, I noticed that the trees were swelling with buds. In the yard, the irises are greening and growing.
I actually got to wear my third-heaviest coat, today - and went out without even wearing that when we went to dinner.
The best thing about a delayed spring? When it actually... blissfully... finally shows up.
But, in fact, I believe spring might be on its way. It was sunny and only 10 degrees cooler than average today. Tomorrow we might get up to average temps. And we might even see 70 degrees on the weekend.
When I was walking the dog this evening, I noticed that the trees were swelling with buds. In the yard, the irises are greening and growing.
I actually got to wear my third-heaviest coat, today - and went out without even wearing that when we went to dinner.
The best thing about a delayed spring? When it actually... blissfully... finally shows up.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Five Things I Have To Ask
These are a few things that I've had rumbling around in my brain, lately, and I thought I'd toss them out into the ether:
1) Why do short guys always seem to use the "tall" urinal when there are two of different heights available? As a tall guy, using the "short" urinal can be a bit of a challenge sometimes, and I always wonder about it but have never felt it was appropriate to ask at the time.
2) Why do people (at least in Minnesota) drive less than the speed of traffic in the HOV lane? Does that make sense to anyone at all?
3) Why in the world do some people walk their dogs - inside the city limits along busy streets - without having them on a leash? Do they not realize that this is dangerous for pretty much everyone involved - not the least of which is the dog?
4) Why can't you order cable channels a la carte?
5) If you've been given a sample of something (a food, a service, whatever), why would you expect the full-sized thing to be completely different? (Sorry. This one needs context, doesn't it? Let's say you've purchased a paint color and agreed that the color of green was perfect for your wall, so you ask someone to use that color to paint your house. Why would you assume that the house would, instead, turn out lavender - and, thus, complain when it's green?)
Considering it's only Tuesday, and I'm already asking questions like those, I fear it's going to be a long week.
1) Why do short guys always seem to use the "tall" urinal when there are two of different heights available? As a tall guy, using the "short" urinal can be a bit of a challenge sometimes, and I always wonder about it but have never felt it was appropriate to ask at the time.
2) Why do people (at least in Minnesota) drive less than the speed of traffic in the HOV lane? Does that make sense to anyone at all?
3) Why in the world do some people walk their dogs - inside the city limits along busy streets - without having them on a leash? Do they not realize that this is dangerous for pretty much everyone involved - not the least of which is the dog?
4) Why can't you order cable channels a la carte?
5) If you've been given a sample of something (a food, a service, whatever), why would you expect the full-sized thing to be completely different? (Sorry. This one needs context, doesn't it? Let's say you've purchased a paint color and agreed that the color of green was perfect for your wall, so you ask someone to use that color to paint your house. Why would you assume that the house would, instead, turn out lavender - and, thus, complain when it's green?)
Considering it's only Tuesday, and I'm already asking questions like those, I fear it's going to be a long week.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
The Sweet Smell of...
Vacuuming is not one of those things that typically elicits comments of "Oh, that smells nice." Instead, it seems that vacuuming using results in comments of either "I think the vacuum is getting old, it smells hot," or "What the heck happened in here that makes it smell that way?"
This weekend, however, I was treated to a "that smells really nice" moment while cleaning up in the kitchen.
You see, a week or two ago, we had a small jar of coriander jump out of the cupboard and shatter as it glanced off the counter and plunged to the floor.
This wasn't a huge deal from a spice standpoint. It wasn't like all of our culinary endeavours were about to come to a screeching halt due to a lack of coriander. And since coriander is a relatively easy spice to purchase, we knew our state of hypocoriandrocity would end fairly quickly.
The problem, of course, is that when a "small jar of something" breaks, it's not just the "of something" that scatters around the kitchen. The "small jar" shatters, too. And we have a very curious dog, so she wanted to help us find all of the good-smelling remnants.
So we did a quick-but-thorough cleaning and surveying of the kitchen floor, followed by (pay attention - this will lead us back to the point) a run around the kitchen with the trusty cabinet-mounted Dustbuster.
And, things being as they are, we went on about our lives. More coriander was purchased. The cabinet was restocked. The trash was taken out.
Until today when, after sweeping the floors, I flipped the switch on the Dustbuster to clear up the last of the grit from the linoleum and was ever-so-pleasantly greeted by the slightly sweet, yet spicy, aroma of coriander.
Sure, I know that Baking Soda and Lemon usually win the "what scent should we put in our cleaning supplies?" contests, but honestly, I'm totally voting for coriander the next time anyone asks me.
This weekend, however, I was treated to a "that smells really nice" moment while cleaning up in the kitchen.
You see, a week or two ago, we had a small jar of coriander jump out of the cupboard and shatter as it glanced off the counter and plunged to the floor.
This wasn't a huge deal from a spice standpoint. It wasn't like all of our culinary endeavours were about to come to a screeching halt due to a lack of coriander. And since coriander is a relatively easy spice to purchase, we knew our state of hypocoriandrocity would end fairly quickly.
The problem, of course, is that when a "small jar of something" breaks, it's not just the "of something" that scatters around the kitchen. The "small jar" shatters, too. And we have a very curious dog, so she wanted to help us find all of the good-smelling remnants.
So we did a quick-but-thorough cleaning and surveying of the kitchen floor, followed by (pay attention - this will lead us back to the point) a run around the kitchen with the trusty cabinet-mounted Dustbuster.
And, things being as they are, we went on about our lives. More coriander was purchased. The cabinet was restocked. The trash was taken out.
Until today when, after sweeping the floors, I flipped the switch on the Dustbuster to clear up the last of the grit from the linoleum and was ever-so-pleasantly greeted by the slightly sweet, yet spicy, aroma of coriander.
Sure, I know that Baking Soda and Lemon usually win the "what scent should we put in our cleaning supplies?" contests, but honestly, I'm totally voting for coriander the next time anyone asks me.
Friday, April 19, 2013
April (Snow) Showers
I know that a lot of stuff has been in the news this week. And I know that the freaky winter weather in mid-April in the Upper Midwest really doesn't rate as all that important in comparison. But since we've all heard the "write what you know" admonitions, I offer you the following.
Things I've learned from the April 2013 weather:
1) Driving home from work through an April snowstorm is better than driving home from work through a December/January/February snowstorm because you can see what's going on around you instead of feeling totally lost in the dark.
2) Swearing at the weather doesn't make it change.
3) Watching the weather forecasts is probably the most disheartening thing you can do during weather like this. Actually, that's not true. Watching them is fine. *Believing* them is bad.
4) Even after 6+ months of winter driving, some people are still idiots on the road.
5) One of the benefits of a colder-than-average "spring" is that the trees don't leaf out early and, thus, end up losing limbs because so much snow sticks to them. Whether the budded trees will make it through tonight's record low temperature (16 degrees has been forecast) remains to be seen.
6) After a while, seeing people walk around in clothing that you know they just put on simply "because it was warm" - with no thought to how they look - makes you want to start fining them for crimes against fashion.
7) Even though it's freakin' cold and there are 7 inches of snow on the ground, once you reach a certain point in the year there are some pieces of clothing you will refuse to wear. For me, that is my "only in the coldest/wettest parts of the year" coat. I have moved to my second-heaviest coat, and mid-weight scarves.
8) After a while, all you really want to do is wear that different coat. You start looking in the closet and dreaming about wearing things you haven't seen in months. My third-heaviest coat used to get me through most of the winter in Baltimore. I suspect I'll only get to wear it for about a week this year.
9) Using the weather as a justification for continued hibernation only really works if you have thick blinds and drapes. Otherwise, it kind of feels like you're playing hooky from your life. But not in a good way.
10) April snowstorms - no matter how ugly and inconvenient - do melt away fairly quickly. The last one was completely cleared up before this one showed up. Here's hoping that this one is completely gone before the next one. (And, please, oh please, may the next snowstorm be sometime in November.)
Things I've learned from the April 2013 weather:
1) Driving home from work through an April snowstorm is better than driving home from work through a December/January/February snowstorm because you can see what's going on around you instead of feeling totally lost in the dark.
2) Swearing at the weather doesn't make it change.
3) Watching the weather forecasts is probably the most disheartening thing you can do during weather like this. Actually, that's not true. Watching them is fine. *Believing* them is bad.
4) Even after 6+ months of winter driving, some people are still idiots on the road.
5) One of the benefits of a colder-than-average "spring" is that the trees don't leaf out early and, thus, end up losing limbs because so much snow sticks to them. Whether the budded trees will make it through tonight's record low temperature (16 degrees has been forecast) remains to be seen.
6) After a while, seeing people walk around in clothing that you know they just put on simply "because it was warm" - with no thought to how they look - makes you want to start fining them for crimes against fashion.
7) Even though it's freakin' cold and there are 7 inches of snow on the ground, once you reach a certain point in the year there are some pieces of clothing you will refuse to wear. For me, that is my "only in the coldest/wettest parts of the year" coat. I have moved to my second-heaviest coat, and mid-weight scarves.
8) After a while, all you really want to do is wear that different coat. You start looking in the closet and dreaming about wearing things you haven't seen in months. My third-heaviest coat used to get me through most of the winter in Baltimore. I suspect I'll only get to wear it for about a week this year.
9) Using the weather as a justification for continued hibernation only really works if you have thick blinds and drapes. Otherwise, it kind of feels like you're playing hooky from your life. But not in a good way.
10) April snowstorms - no matter how ugly and inconvenient - do melt away fairly quickly. The last one was completely cleared up before this one showed up. Here's hoping that this one is completely gone before the next one. (And, please, oh please, may the next snowstorm be sometime in November.)
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Wednesday Shorts
Sadly, it has been way too freakishly wintry for me to be talking about going out and wandering around in short pants. So that's not the kind of shorts we're talking about.
We are, in fact, talking about short films.
**Sidenote**
I'm not using the "Royal We," here - I'm assuming that you are talking back to me while I write, and thus "we" are having a conversation. I have to do this in my imagination a lot because I know you're out there reading this but so few of you actually ever make any comments. At least not that others can see. In my mind, you're all commenting all the time. Which is why - to get back to my point - I'm saying "we."
**End Sidenote**
You know that short film that was done at our house last fall? (Oh... Sorry... that would be Christopher's and my house - not "our" collective house, because even though it's not a huge number of you reading this, I think that if you all moved in with us it might be a tad tight. Not that you aren't all lovely and we wouldn't love to have you come one or two at a time, obviously.) It's the short film I talked about here. Well, tonight was its Film Festival Premiere at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival.
It was in a bundle of 5 Minnesota Made short narrative films - 4 dramatic pieces and one pre-zombie apocalypse wedding-day comedy. And it was - once again - really fun to see "Golden" on the big screen. This time, I even paid attention to the narrative, instead of just looking at our house. And, you know what? That made it even better. I even teared up a couple of times, even though I knew the whole story.
And it was fun to hear a few extra stories about it tonight during the Q&A after the films were shown. For instance: "Why did you use a short focal range?" Because we were working in a tight space with, usually, only 2 feet from the camera to the person. I hadn't ever thought of that, but... yeah... our long, narrow living room doesn't exactly provide lots of space for long shots. Neither does our long, narrow kitchen. Or the small, squarish piano room...
When I mentioned to the director this time I had actually watched the story, not the house, he commented that he is still watching scenes, thinking "So, the sound guy is just out of frame over here, and the camera was there..."
Unfortunately, the evening ended fairly quickly - which I guess makes sense with short films. But there's one great takeaway that I can offer: Supporting small, independent arts can lead to incredible outcomes. For Christopher and me, the weekend of filming last fall has resulted in new friendships and a couple of fun - very unusual for us - nights out.
And a friend of ours who was in the audience tonight even saw me on the way out and affirmed our brush with fame when he said "I wondered if that might have been you and Christopher [listed on the screen in the thank-you section]."
It may "only" have been a short. But it sure has been sweet.
We are, in fact, talking about short films.
**Sidenote**
I'm not using the "Royal We," here - I'm assuming that you are talking back to me while I write, and thus "we" are having a conversation. I have to do this in my imagination a lot because I know you're out there reading this but so few of you actually ever make any comments. At least not that others can see. In my mind, you're all commenting all the time. Which is why - to get back to my point - I'm saying "we."
**End Sidenote**
You know that short film that was done at our house last fall? (Oh... Sorry... that would be Christopher's and my house - not "our" collective house, because even though it's not a huge number of you reading this, I think that if you all moved in with us it might be a tad tight. Not that you aren't all lovely and we wouldn't love to have you come one or two at a time, obviously.) It's the short film I talked about here. Well, tonight was its Film Festival Premiere at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival.
It was in a bundle of 5 Minnesota Made short narrative films - 4 dramatic pieces and one pre-zombie apocalypse wedding-day comedy. And it was - once again - really fun to see "Golden" on the big screen. This time, I even paid attention to the narrative, instead of just looking at our house. And, you know what? That made it even better. I even teared up a couple of times, even though I knew the whole story.
And it was fun to hear a few extra stories about it tonight during the Q&A after the films were shown. For instance: "Why did you use a short focal range?" Because we were working in a tight space with, usually, only 2 feet from the camera to the person. I hadn't ever thought of that, but... yeah... our long, narrow living room doesn't exactly provide lots of space for long shots. Neither does our long, narrow kitchen. Or the small, squarish piano room...
When I mentioned to the director this time I had actually watched the story, not the house, he commented that he is still watching scenes, thinking "So, the sound guy is just out of frame over here, and the camera was there..."
Unfortunately, the evening ended fairly quickly - which I guess makes sense with short films. But there's one great takeaway that I can offer: Supporting small, independent arts can lead to incredible outcomes. For Christopher and me, the weekend of filming last fall has resulted in new friendships and a couple of fun - very unusual for us - nights out.
And a friend of ours who was in the audience tonight even saw me on the way out and affirmed our brush with fame when he said "I wondered if that might have been you and Christopher [listed on the screen in the thank-you section]."
It may "only" have been a short. But it sure has been sweet.
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