Credits and Debits

Grammar Check is "helping" me today. I guess I don't know as much about grammar as I thought I did. I'm crushed.

( Read more... )

The word it's correcting is "I'm", for those who are curious.

As Rebecca says, you know you live near the coast when they send everyone home early from work because high tide is coming. Of course, high tide + Tropical Storm (Depression?) + seasonal factors = holy shit!

They closed work at 2 this afternoon, which is draw-dropping in and of itself. Since the person who gets to make the final decision about whether we close lives about 5 minutes away, we don't close very often. But we closed early for Ida. So, like any rational person, I left work at 2:30, went home, changed clothes, grabbed my camera, and went back out into some crazy wind and rain. The pictures aren't great, because I was trying to take them really fast and then tuck the camera back out of the rain. Water does not go well with expensive electronics. Still, they get the point across.

( Because I am unreasonably amused by a bunch of jets with wet feet: )



( Dry dock? What dry dock? )



( Aren't you glad this isn't your backyard? )



( Note that the lights are on in the house on the right. )



( Some people are brave or crazy. Hard to tell which. )



( And one more, because I like pictures of half drowned trees. )

My mother bought herself a new digital camera, so she gave me her old one. I'm in luv. Here's my current favorite picture that I've taken:

( Cut for your bandwidth. )

Dear Microsoft Word 2007:

I hate you. No, really, I do. I don't need your help. I need you to put all my buttons and menus back where I can find them so that when I'm writing a paper at midnight, I can find what I want. I would also appreciate it if you would stop trying to run SpellCheck based on U.K. English. I have told you approximately 73 times that I want U.S. English. It's "favorable", not "favourable."


Love and kisses,

Megan the procrastinator


PS: What does it say about me that I actually enjoyed researching and writing a paper on the potential of a commercial real estate bubble bursting? I think I would have enjoyed it even more if I had started it more than 3 days before it was due...


...hmmm...

Do you think there might be a lesson in there?

Nah, I didn't think so either!

I saw this today in a list of submission guidelines for an anthology: "Stories should be science fiction (except military) or fantasy (except heroic/high/superhero/S&S)." (emphasis mine)

So what, exactly, does that leave? Urban fantasy, maybe? This seems restrictive to the point of lunacy, to me. Or am I weird, to find this weird?



And yeah, I know I've been living under a rock. I'm trying to crawl back out from under it. It hasn't been all bad, but it has been busy.

One of my co-workers (Verlie) turned 60 today. Our boss, Laurie, kept making a big point about this, wanting to make sure everyone knew, and Verlie kept saying she didn't mind turning 60, but it's so hard to know with people. Sometimes they say they don't mind, but they really do.

Turns out we should have listened to her: she was disappointed that we didn't get her the balloon with the Grim Reaper on it that said, "Don't worry, I'm only here for the cake." So last night, at Laurie's instigation, we trashed Verlie's office. Rebecca, two other coworkers, and I stayed until after six, blowing up balloons with "Happy 60th Birthday!" on them, stringing black crepe paper, and hanging up all kinds of obnoxious decorations. We even put up signs throughout the building that said, "Happy 60th Birthday, Verlie! Stop by, and wish her a happy one!" under a picture of her.

What I think of as the pièce de résistance was my idea. We took a piece of tissue paper and folded a handful of confetti into it, then taped the package to the door and the door jamb in such a way that when she opened the door this morning, it broke open and flung confetti everywhere. Of course, we'll be picking iridescent stars out of our paperwork for months, but it was worth it! And Verlie laughed her ass off this morning when she saw it.

Only when it was too late did it occur to me that I've left myself open for major retribution. The reason Laurie was so keen to have us trash Verlie's office was because Verlie had contributed to trashing Laurie's when Laurie turned 50. Black balloons, black crepe paper, tombstones, the whole nine yards. And guess what? I'm probably next, when I turn 30 in three years. The other two coworkers who helped have at least 7 years to go before the next significant digit. Rebecca almost certainly won't be in our building at that point, and even if she is, I'll turn 30 a year before she does. Laurie funded the expedition, but she was the last one up, plus she's got eight years to go. So that leaves...me. I have to decide how to handle it, assuming Verlie even tries to get me back. Obviously "with good grace" is going to be part of any answer, since you don't dish it out if you can't take it. Still, I have three options, as best I can tell:

1. Leave at 5pm precisely, pretending I suspect nothing, and open my door veeerrrryyyy carefully the next morning (especially if I don't remember shutting it the night before).

2. Leave at 5pm precisely, wishing everyone happy decorating on my way out the door.

3. Just don't leave work the night before my birthday. Bring a book and camp out. Eventually, they'll all get tired of waiting for me to go home, and they'll leave without decorating my office.

4. Pray Verlie retires before I turn 30.

I'm kind of looking forward to it. It's going to be such a disappointment if they don't do anything at all.

Random things for today, since I do not have enough brain right now to write an actual post.

1.
I could survive for 54 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

2. Our 10-K will be filed by the end of next week (aka, our annual report). I never want to look at another table showing the breakdown of investment securities by maturity ever again. I am also very tired of checking Note 3 to Table IV to the balance sheet to Table III to... We'd look really stupid if we said total investments was $100,000 on page 17, and $100,001 on page 23, and I would sure hate to look stupid. But right now, I would hate looking at the damn tables again even more.

3. Found through aimless internet wandering recently: Natural Harvest - A Collection of Semen-Based Recipes. I have no desire to buy this book, but its mere existence makes me want to laugh or retch. Maybe both.

4. Also found through aimless internet wandering: weepingcock. Pretty funny, but I'm not sure I'm brave enough to join. I think this community was actually what led me to #3.

5. I'm running the Dismal Swamp Stomp again this year. I had a lot of fun last year, and the bank is sponsoring the kids' fun run again, so I again get free admittance. How can I turn down a free race? Of course, I'm not holding out a lot of hope for my race time right now: I've been busy, or sick, or hurt too much this winter to get in as much running as I wanted.

6. I am now officially a supervisor (as of 3/1), and I failed my first duty as same. We got some snow Sunday evening and into Monday, so Monday morning I called work's employee weather hotline to find out if we were opening on time. The hotline's message said the bank would be opening an hour late and specifically reminded supervisors to call their direct reports to make sure they knew. I failed utterly. I heard the words, and my brain dropped them in the mental trash can: "Oh, that doesn't apply to me, I can stop listening now." OK, so as failures go, it's a minor one, but still. And fortunately, my boss called my people when she couldn't get hold of me. Workaholic that I am, I was at work already, and she was trying to find me at home. Actually, not so much a workaholic, as determined to not be at work until 9pm, even if it was the first business day of the month.

7. For the first time since taking this job, I actually got my month-end reports done on time. It took me eight months to get here (July was the first month I closed out), but at the end of Monday, I was way ahead of schedule. Far enough ahead for my boss to give me a surprised look when I brought her more reports to review. I can't explain how proud I am of the fact that I got my stuff done on time, finally. My boss told me she expected it to take a full year before I really got the hang of all the reports, so by that standard, I'm kicking ass.

8. Two weeks (almost exactly) until we leave for Puerto Rico. We will swim in the brightest bioluminescent bay in the world, see the only tropical rainforest in the United States, and do various other tourist-y type things for a whole week. Work will not be able to reach me, and I intend to think about nothing more intense than what I'll have for dinner. I'm also trying not to build the trip up in my mind to some impossibly high level of fun and relaxation, or I'll spend the whole week thinking, "I'm not having as much fun as I thought I would."

Stolen from nalidolly. These are the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing’s users.... Bold the ones you've read, underline the ones you read for school, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish.
( Read more... )

Wow, my high school made me read a lot of stuff. And half of it isn't even on this list.

Sheesh. Too many more weeks like this one just passed, and I may kill myself.

Monday: Was not too bad for a Monday. Not my favorite day of the week, but since one-seventh of my life will be spent on Mondays, it's not a good idea to get too worked up over it. The worst part was the three hour drive at the end to my parents' house, so that I could be nearby for...

Tuesday: When I attended my Opa's burial. That would be my godmother's father, who died late this summer of complications/infections from surgery. If "my godmother's father" seems a distant relationship, let me assure you that it wasn't. He and his wife were my Nana and Opa, my third set of grandparents. They were there for all the major events of my life, as much as my "real" grandparents, and I have just as many memories of their house from growing up. The reason for the time lapse between his death and burial is because he was buried in Arlington National Cemetary, and it takes a while to get everything set-up. Even while I was crying, part of me was fascinated by all the pomp and ceremony of a full military funeral: the military band playing, the caisson, the riderless horse with the boots in the stirrups, the twenty-one gun salute.

I think I first started crying when they pulled the flag-draped casket out of the hearse and loaded it onto the caisson, and I pretty much cried off-and-on for the rest of the day. The traffic driving home was terrible, so it took me five hours to get home (instead of three), and by the time I got there, I had a pounding headache from crying. And somewhere in the back of my brain, a little thought has crawled in: someday, that will be my parents. They're only in their early fifties now, and both relatively healthy, but suddenly, another quarter century doesn't seem nearly enough time.

Wednesday: Wasn't going too badly until I got home. I had a lot of stuff to catch up on at work, but it could have been worse. Then I got home, and found out that I had been summoned by the Hampton Circuit Court for Grand Jury duty. On January 5th. Ummmm, not a good day. We will be frantically scrambling at work, five days into the new year. So I called the Jury Coordinator, and said, "What do I need to do to get this moved to a different day?" After I told her why, she explained that the Grand Jury only meets (convenes? hears cases?) once a month, on the first Monday of the month. So it will always be inconvenient, but I am at least now moved to February 2nd, which is better than January 5th.

Thursday: Was OK until a little before noon, when I began to experience alternating bouts of nauseau and stomach cramping. Rebecca offered to drive me home around 1pm, but I said that I had too much work to do. By 2pm, I was ready to recant, and was, in fact, in the middle of triaging my work pile into "can wait" and "can't wait" stacks, when one of my co-workers came in to ask me a question. She took one look at my face, and asked, "Are you alright?" Since I was in the middle of a particularly strong period of nauseau right then, I said, "No." And then my vision started to grey out, and I said, "Oh shit" and passed out on the floor at her feet. Way to traumatize your co-workers, Megan. Good going.

Fortunately, Rebecca was nearby and could divert attempts to call the ambulance, since she's seen this before. Once I came around, they got me loaded up into my car and Rebecca drove me home and tucked me in, so I could zonk out for a few hours. I woke up around 5 to nibble some crackers, sip some water and dilute Gatorade, and then puke up everything I'd eaten all day. What fun.

Friday: A less extreme version of Thursday. I got to skip the nausea at least, but the stomach cramping would put in an appearance whenever I stood up for too long. Yes, I'm an idiot, I went to work, but since I think this was food poisoning, I wasn't contagious and I really do have a lot to do before year-end, especially since I'm taking the 24th and 26th off next week. But I pretty much came home from work, read for an hour or so, and went to bed. I was asleep by 7:30 last night, and didn't wake up until 7 this morning.

And boy oh boy am I suffering from food boredom. I don't typically have a weak stomach; even when I'm sick, if I want to eat it, I usually can. Not this time. I haven't had anything more exciting than a Clementine in two and a half days. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. I haven't had anything more exciting than a Clementine that hasn't bounced back up. This morning, I'm living dangerously and having butter on my toast. Ooooo. I'm so exciting.

But I am feeling a lot better, and I'm really hoping next week will not be nearly so bad. I'm disinclined to tempt fate by saying anything like, "Well, it can't possibly be worse!" because, yes, actually, it could be worse. But I can hope for better...

I just finished re-reading Komarr, by Lois McMaster Bujold, and now I am going to ramble aimlessly about it. Sorry!

I think this is one of my favorite books in Bujold's Vorkosigan series, mainly because every time I read it, there's something new. As I get older, the book changes. The first time I read it, the obvious plot is what caught my attention and drew me in: what caused the accident? The second time I read it, I was in my first or second semester of my Accounting degree, and so the embezzling scheme was fascinating to me. This time around, I was struck by Ekaterin's struggle, and by the social commentary Bujold is making about women and careers and family. How did I miss this the first two times I read this book?

This passage in particular fixed itself in my brain, in which the main female character contemplates her recently failed marriage and her controlling husband who "protected" her by never letting her grow into a real adult.

Was the Old Vor ideal of marriage and family an intrinsic contradiction of a woman's soul, or was it just Tien who'd been the source of her shrinkage? It was not clear how to sort out the answer without multiple trials, and marriage was not an experiment she cared to repeat. Yet the Professora seemed to be proof of the possible. She had public achievement -- she was a historian, teacher, scholar in four languages -- she had three grown children, and a marriage heading for the half-century mark. Had she made secret compromises? She had a solid place in her profession -- might she have had a place at the top? She had three children -- might she have had six?

We are going to have a race, Madame Vorsoisson. Do you wish to run with your right leg chopped off, or your left leg chopped off?

I want to run on both legs.

I present the ultimate recipe for that Martha Stewart-esque overachiever in your life: Smith Island cupcakes.

This. Is. Insane. Insane, I tell you. For those who don't know, Smith Island cake is made by cutting a cake into 8 or so layers and putting frosting between each layer. It's the frosting addict's dream. Now, imagine cutting cupcakes into 8 layers each. Wow. Just...wow.

There are some recipes that I look at and think, "Gee, that's neat, but there's no way I'll ever have enough free time in my life to be willing to give up the hours required to make it." But to me, Smith Island cupcakes go beyond even that, landing firmly in the realm of the stupidly complex. Who in hell has time to cut two dozen cupcakes into eight layers, glaze and frost each layer, then glaze and frost the whole cupcake?

And did I mention the 504 calories per cupcake? I can see myself at a party now, being offered one of these things, and turning to Rebecca to ask, "Would you like to split a cupcake with me?"

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they're delicious, and if anyone wants to make me some, I will be happy to express my appreciation. However, I don't think many of us have a spare 4 hours this weekend.

I'm still working away on my handout. I love the research, and I love the teaching, but I really hate writing handouts and class outlines.

Anyway, I found this "recipe" and I don't know why, but it made me laugh.

Bright-green Soup. Cook whatever meat you wish in water, or in a little wine, or in meat stock, wine and bacon to give flavor, then fry your meat, then grind ginger, saffron, parsley and a little sage, if you wish, and egg yolks poured in slowly with a slotted spoon, raw, for the liaison, or ground bread moistened with stock, and put all to boil together with verjuice; and some add cheese, and it is all right.

I think it makes me laugh because it is so very typical of medieval recipes: "Take a little of this, or if you want, some of that instead, and put in as much as you like."

Does anybody speak French, by any chance? I'm trying to get a translation of this passage:

La traduction en vers explique suffisamment le commencement de cet aphorisme culinaire. Lazarus (ladre) paroît répondre à teigneux; Martinus signifie dur, obstiné (rebelle) par allusion à Martin Grosia, professeur [p. 147] de droit à Bologne au XIIe siècle, dont la dureté et l'entêtement étoient passés en proverbe au dire du cardinal Baronius, cité par Du Cange au mot Martinus. Il semble donc que respondens pontfici soit traduit par pesant. Est-ce par allusion à la solennité, à la gravité pontificale? Christine de Pisan a employé le mot pontifical dans le sens de solennel en parlant du duc d'Anjou . (Hault et pontificale en son maintien. Voy. Du Cange à Pontifex.)

I have a translation of the entire manuscript, but for some reason the translation doesn't seem to line up with the original. So, I was hoping for a second opinion. On-line translation software was less than helpful (surprise, surprise):

Her translation at around about construe enough begin about this aphorisme culinaire. Lazarus ladre ) skit answer at teigneux ; Martial mean callous , dogged ( mutinous ) by allusions at Martial Big , instructor p. 147] about erect at Bologne at the XIIe age , whose her hardness and l'entêtement star bygone at by-word at the put any cardinal Baron , adduced by Any Cange at the note Martial. He looks good consequently as a répondu pontfici he may be translate by cumbersome. Am - thanksggiving by allusions at the solemnity , at the seriousness papal? Christine about Pisan has clerk him note papal in 1994 direction about ceremonial at talk any duke d'Anjou. Hault and papal at her maintaining. Voy. Any Cange at Pontiff )

It's having a little trouble with the proper nouns (among other things). All of this is because I'm trying to find a good translation for the Latin phrase respondens pontifici, which seems to translate literally as "the pope answers/responds". But I'm wondering if there's some colloquial meaning here that I'm missing. And the reason I want the Latin phrase translated is because I don't agree with the explanation being provided in the French paragraph above! Of course, it's hard to argue effectively when you're reading a translation of a redaction of a 700-year-old manuscript.

Why the sudden interest in French and Latin? I'm teaching a class on cheese-making this Thursday, at the barony's weekly A&S meeting. I'm not sure why I volunteered to do this (and I did volunteer, no arm-twisting was involved), because it's not like I don't have enough crap to do these days. Still, I like cheese-making, and it's been a long time since I taught a class, so what the hell.

The thing I failed to take into account was that it is not enough to be able to make cheese; I must also be able to document it to pre-17th century Europe. I spent the end of last week flailing around trying to find some period recipes and failing miserably. I haven't spent a lot of time trying to document cheese, mainly because I don't ever enter A&S competitions. I know they had cheese in period, but that's not really enough to base a class handout on. "They had milk, so they must have had cheese!" The mere thought of including that in a handout makes me cringe.

Well, Rebecca has been spending a lot of time looking at medieval cookbooks and recipes over the last few weeks, as she worked on her entry for St. Luke's Artisans' Fair this past weekend. She remembered something she'd seen in passing, so she sent me a link. And then she remembered something else. So she sent me another link. And then there was that thing in one of her books, so she marked the page for me. And now I find myself knee deep in period sources for cheese (not to mention neck deep in just-barely-post-period ones), when I have done maybe two to three hours of research myself. This is a little embarrassing. I think I will need to credit my researcher in my class handout. The only thing that keeps this from being really embarrassing is the fact that she is only finding me links. I'm still going through them and picking out the information I want to use, writing the handout, and teaching the class.

Still, I feel like I'm cheating somehow.

Oh, and I found this in a 19th century manuscript while I was combing through Project Gutenberg's website:
Cheese Biscuits à la St. James.—Take three tablespoonfuls of the finest flour, half a pound of cream curds, and five ounces of Brie cheese, which has been carefully scraped, and a pinch of salt; pound all in a mortar; add five ounces of softened butter and three eggs, to make a very stiff paste, which must be rolled very thin, and cut into round biscuits. Bake in a very quick oven, and serve hot.

Not at all useful for what I'm doing, but take a close look at the proportions in that recipe. That's three tablespoons of flour, to more than a pound of butter and cheese. Those aren't biscuits; those are fried cheese wafers. I'm sure they're delicious, but that doesn't make them biscuits in my world. Ah, how language has changed!

Also, that's a really big mortar.

And can I just mention how much I love Project Gutenberg? If you've never been out to their website, it's worth a look. Or three.

Book Meme
* Grab the nearest book.
* Open the book to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
* Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.


"Take a leg of Lamb, and cut out all the flesh and save the skin whole."

The Goodhousewife's Jewel, by Thomas Dawson, which is a medieval cook book. And I mean cookbook in the loosest sense of the word. Lots of instructions like "cook until done" and "make bread like bakers do." Very helpful.

And don't ask me why lamb is a proper noun. I just types it like I sees it.

(And in the name of full disclosure...that's actually the fifth sentence on page 59, because pages 56, 57, and 58 were blank.)

"The Third Book of Eraclius (in the part which was probably a twelfth- or thirteenth-century French addition to the original manuscript), after describing the making of colorless glass from fern ashes, goes on to say that purple and flesh-colored glasses are made by using the ashes of the beech tree: 'on melting it will turn to a purple color which you can use and make whatever you like with it until it begins to turn pale and therafter it changes to another color, called membrum or flesh-color.'"

Theophilus's On Divers Arts actually had something on page 56. Can you tell that Rebecca has been writing her documentation this week? All the books in arm's reach are like those two.

Ummmm...in case you're curious, she's making and documenting several items. The glass and the lamb are not part of the same project. Just so you know.

Tonight, while Rebecca finishes up her A&S projects, I am making cream biscuits! Because I love them, I want them, and I can make them. And I am telling you about this mainly as an excuse to post the recipe:

TO MAKE AHEAD: After the biscuits are arranged
on a baking sheet in step 2, the baking sheet can
be wrapped in plastic wrap and refrigerated for up
to 2 hours. Bake as directed.

2 cups (10 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon table salt
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1. Adjust oven rack to upper-middle position
and heat oven to 425 degrees. Line baking sheet
with parchment paper.

2. Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder,
and salt in medium bowl. Add 1 1/4 cups cream
and stir with wooden spoon until dough forms,
about 30 seconds. Transfer dough from bowl to
countertop, leaving all dry, floury bits behind in
bowl. In 1-tablespoon increments, add up to 1/4
cup cream to dry bits in bowl, mixing with wooden
spoon after each addition, until moistened. Add
these moistened bits to rest of dough and knead by
hand just undl smooth, about 30 seconds.

3. Following illustrations at left, cut biscuits
into rounds or wedges. Place rounds or
wedges on parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake
until golden brown, about 15 minutes, rotating
baking sheet halfway through baking.


CREAM BISCUITS WITH HERBS
Use the herb of your choice in this variation.
Follow recipe for Quick and Easy Cream Biscuits,
whisking 2 tablespoons minced fresh herbs into
flour along with sugar, baking powder, and salt.

CREAM BISCUITS WITH CHEDDAR CHEESE
Follow recipe for Quick and Easy Cream Biscuits,
stirring 1/2 cup (2 ounces) sharp cheddar cheese
cut into 1/4-inch pieces into flour along with
sugar, baking powder, and salt. Increase baking
time to 18 minutes.

The Princess Bride meme...

When you see this, post in your own journal with your favourite quote from The Princess Bride. Preferably not "As you wish" or the Inigo Montoya speech.

1. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles.
2. There's not a lot of money in revenge. I just work for Vizzini to pay the bills.
3. So you'll put down your rock, and I'll put down my sword, and we'll try and kill each other like civilized people?

Work is calming down a bit, what a relief. All the way up until 5:30 on Friday evening, I thought I was going to be at work today, but at 5:35 my boss said, "Don't bother, there's nothing that can't wait until Tuesday." Yay! Three day weekend for me, and oh how I love working for a bank (we get all the weird holidays off). Next week, we get to start working on the notes to the financial statements, the statements themselves finally being finished.

On Thursday night, Becca and I went over to John & Kim's to watch a movie and veg out. We ended up watching The Darwin Awards, which was a complete bit of fluff. That's not as much of a criticism as it might normally be, since I was pretty wiped out after the last few weeks at work. The movie includes the song "Radar Love", which I think would be a great song to run to. So this morning, I went to iTunes to download the song, only to discover that more than 20 different artists have done versions of this song, and 20 artists means 40+ versions of the song. Wow. I didn't listen to all of them, mainly because I found the one I wanted very quickly, but I did listen to about 10 30-second clips, including a zydeco version and one with bagpipes. Who knew that there even existed a zydeco version of "Radar Love"? And "Radar Love" with bagpipes...? Weird, man. Entertaining, but still weird.

Last night's fun included a trip to Six, which is a tapas bar in Phoebus. I now pause for a shameless plug: I love this restaurant. Anyone who's familiar with Phoebus may be finding it hard to reconcile "Phoebus" and "tapas bar", but trust me, it's good! I have never had a favorite restaurant before now, but Six might just make it. Previously, my answer to the question "What's your favorite restaurant?" was "Well, it depends what I'm in the mood for." Not so, recently. Where do I want to go to dinner? Six! The name, by the way, comes from the address, which is 6 E. Mellen St. Anyway, we went to Six, only to find that they'd changed their menu, which they apparently do several times a year. Despite some initial skepticism on our part (New stuff? We don't want new stuff!), we had a typically delicious meal, including pumpkin gnocchi and a steak we could literally cut with our forks.

Then we came home, where I proceeded to get the migraine from hell. By midnight, I was panting, it hurt so much. Talking hurt (although not being talked to, oddly enough), moving hurt, breathing hurt, and I felt like I might throw up if only that wouldn't make everything hurt that much worse. I haven't had a migraine this bad in a long time, and my Imitrex made absolutely no impact. I think that today I will be calling my doctor's office to make an appointment. My head is still twinging this morning, but it's nothing like it was last night.

And now off to eat the pumpkin pancakes Becca's been making!

The new job is fun, in a hectic, "what was I thinking", "my brain is full" kind of way. I'm learning it, anyway, and my new boss seems happy with my progress. When you change jobs, we do 30, 60, and 90 day reviews. The boss brought in my 60-day review recently, handed it to me, and said only, "Here, sign this. You're wonderful." OK, I can sure live with that. It's always nice to be appreciated.

To make everything extra fun, my first quarter-end is fast approaching. If you don't see me in October, don't be too surprised. I have this horrible sinking feeling I may be living at work that month. To make it all worse, two of the three people who are most familiar with the closing process have now left. One was the lady I replaced, and the other gave her two-week's notice at the end of August. So not only am I learning my new job, I'm trying to learn parts of someone else's. I haven't killed anyone yet!

I got to go to the Virginia Bankers' Association CFO Conference, which was lots of fun. Very educational, too. I now actually understand how collateralized debt obligations work, and why all of them fell apart so quickly once the first one started to go. I never really got that before. And I got taken out to dinner (along with a bunch of other people) to a really nice Italian restaurant, where we proceeded to laugh so loudly and have such a good time that the group in the private room next to ours actually got up and closed the door on us. Who says bankers are boring? Of course, several people were drinking heavily, since this was the Tuesday after the news about Freddie and Fannie came out. There was at least one CFO in the group whose bank was heavily invested in them. Two of the people at my table clinked their glasses together and said, "A toast to not having any investments in Fannie or Freddie!" I can drink to that.

The Rock'n'Roll Half Marathon was Labor Day weekend. So, yes, I ran 13.1 miles in August in the heat. The race started crazy early in the morning, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but I did find a whole new level of sweatiness. I knew that if you sweated enough, your clothes would stick to you. What I didn't realize was that you could actually get so sweaty that they hang off you again: the weight of the sweat in the fabric makes the clothes so heavy they hang. Oh, and I tore up one toenail. It's all black and blue and ugly looking now, but it doesn't actually hurt.

Am I now well into the gross-out range? Sorry, I'll stop now. :)

Look for another update around Christmas, at the current rate.

Work has been...interesting. Fun, but incredibly busy. This is week two of the new job, and has proved to be much more hectic than week one. I didn't really know enough to be useful last week; this week I know just enough to be given tasks without being familiar enough with said tasks to be able to do them quickly. I'm pretty tired, and it doesn't have much to do with getting or not getting enough sleep. I don't know if I'm going to the Tourney of the Yellow Ribbon this weekend; the thought of spending some time by myself, doing whatever I want, has some serious appeal. And of course, I might actually be at work. Tomorrow is the first of the month, which is crazy time. If we don't get enough stuff finished tomorrow, I can expect to be at work on Saturday to finish it. Time's ticking, after all.

( And because I am a meme sheep, and have nothing else to say, I give you the top 100 songs of 2000 (the year I graduated high school) to flesh out this post. )

End results: loved 12%, hated 3%, had no opinion on 4%, and didn't know...ummmm...hang on, need the calculator, it's late and I'm tired...didn't know 81% of the top 100 songs. Wow.

So what was I listening to in the year I graduated? Some pop, clearly. A lot of "classics." A lot of really obscure music. I will give my unending respect and admiration to anyone who can name one song from any five of the following artists. No cheating. Google is cheating. Getting up and looking at your own music collection is not.

Galactic Cowboys
Transatlantic (not to be confused with Transiberian Orchestra)
Meredith Brooks (any song other than "Bitch")
Dream Theater
Romanovsky & Phillips
Ani Difranco
Chroma Key
The Flower Kings
Podunk
Spock's Beard

Yup, I have been sucked in by cat_macros. Like I actually watch the communities I'm already part of. Oh well.

It's all the fault of ( this picture. )

If it weren't waaaaaaay too big, I would have a new icon right now.