serinde

Postulate 1: If it's really hot, you don't feel like eating.
Postulate 2: If it's cold, you tend to eat more.
Postulate 3: Our societal ass started spreading in the 70s, when air conditioning became more prevalent, and has increased unto the present day, where central air is all over the place (and the average set temperature is lower).
Theorem: Air conditioning makes you fat.

... in which case I shoulda lost weight this summer. Perhaps I should have bought a scale first.

A four-year-old boy, toddling along behind his daddy on the way to preschool, wearing a classic 80s "Hulk vs Wolverine" t-shirt.

A sidewalk vendor setting up his table with a sign saying "Murano glass hand-made Italian jewelry from $4.99", and unloading those wares from shipping boxes clearly labelled "Made In China".

A school groundskeeper in the usual Facilities uniform of button-down shirt and black slacks (which must be wretched on a day like this), but capped with a straw gardening hat with a jaunty blue ribbon.

It was needful that the house be 100% empty ("broom clean", as they say in the trade) by this evening, as the walkthrough was to happen then, and we are signing it away at 9am tomorrow. The movers appeared in the morning to pack up that which Steve is taking to his new place, and everything else Must Go. Therefore, much of the day was spent chucking things into a giant dumpster, because a 5 bedroom house fits a hell of a lot more stuff than one studio + one 1-BR apartment no matter how you slice it.

Some stuff, I am happy to say, found new homes. sweh took our dining room set (and I saddled him with the hammock and the grill); many, many people took books; Dan took The Comfiest Chair In The World; etc. And I have a carload of MOAR STUF which I don't know how on earth I'll merge it into my space. But we still threw out enough to pile a 30' dumpster to the brim (and this after renting a smaller one several months ago for the obviously worthless garbage). This upset me a lot, to the point where I welcomed the chance for a two-hour driving errand to the city.

Some of the upset was because, yes, I am an unrelieved animist. Throwing away a book is still, in my head, only slightly less culpable than abandoning a baby. I'm working on letting go of this, or at least bringing it to a reasonable pitch[1]. More of it was the sheer waste; I think we probably threw out a couple hundred dollars' worth of food, for instance, and then there's the toiletries and household supplies and an inexpensive but fairly new bed and a FUCKING TV even if it's a huge CRT that no one wants to deal with and and and... I realize that price is not the only measure of worth, and that if no one has a need for a thing, then the amount of green folding paper you exchanged for it becomes irrelevant; but I found I was keeping a mental running total of how much of the fruits of our collective labor was being discarded, and the significance was assuming epic proportions.

Which leads to the final aspect, which is the discarding of, well, the fruits of our collective labor. My whole working life, this, and a significant percentage of it tossed with a wild cry of "Junk it!" Sure, I saved the bits that mean the most or are the most useful or (etc.), but it's brands from the burning, and I have a very large crow on my shoulder croaking into my ear a never-ending refrain of "You Did It Wrong".


[1]However, I am still pretty durn pissed that Steve dumpstered the signed and numbered Gould print of the cover to "Stormbringer", and I think I am justified in this.

In defiance of the current mental desire to duck and cover, I met elibalin at MoMA yesterday, an institution I had never previously set foot in. The chief objective was an exhibit on the punk movement and its pollination across music, art, design, and writing (and an excellent exhibit it is, too), but the sleeper hit of the visit was the Ron Arad exhibit. I had never heard of this man, but his shit be awesome. I only reserve judgment because you cannot actually sit on any of his chairs or other furniture on display, so I can't say whether they are useful as well as nifty, and I am insufficiently post-modern to accept a chair that cannot be comfortably sat upon. That exhibit is on until mid-October, and you should go see it.

Also on 'til mid-October was the exhibit on design which is Good but Un-Pretty, which had some interesting things in it (we both highly approve of the...London?...security firm making star-shaped razor wire and huge security chains of heart links with a teddy-bear-faced padlock). We saw some good photography, too, and took a quick dip at the trot through the Ensor exhibit but by that time my foot was killing me, in spite of wearing correct shoes, so we repaired to Aquavit for a restorative, and thence home.

I am favorably impressed by the in-house cafe. It isn't any cheaper than you're used to paying at a museum, but the food quality is actually commensurate. And the museum shop kicks the Met's ass up one side of the field and down the other.

Once again, I am faced with curtain woes (if you'd been to our house and seen our annoying 50s windows, you can already imagine the last round). The windows in my living room are 3' wide (actual window; add 6" each side for molding, if you're counting that) and 6' tall. They currently have pull-down shades, which are adequate, but I'd kind of like, y'know, actual curtains. On the left window, this is not a big deal, though moving the bookshelves has complicated it slightly as the fit on one side would be tight; but the right window has the radiator directly below and in front of it, and also the stove is right there. O HAI FIRE HAZARD

One possible solution I thought of is, rather than two panels on each window swagged to either side, to put one panel on each window and swag them toward the center. This would keep the curtain from being nigh to any heat sources. But, I'm not sure how it would look; and also I'm not sure if that means I want a double-wide panel or what.

The reason this has come into sudden focus is, I was in Gracious Home the other day, and I found that they had really exquisite silk panels 75% off. SEVENTY. FIVE. PERCENT. OFF. This makes them cheaper than ucko polyester, kids. Said panels are 50" wide by 96" long; so that's fine on the length; but I'm not sure about the width. And anything on severe clearance is not generally returnable. --I don't have my fabric here, either, so I can't put up a test unit to see if it looks like it does in my brane.

(Still at a loss for something for bedroom window. The universe declares that there shall be no dark blue curtains. Feh.)

syringavulgaris: First, there was the EA booth babe stupidity which I now realize is hyping Dante's Inferno.
syringavulgaris: Because the sin and the lust and the what not.
syringavulgaris: Then I actually looked at the description of the game.
syringavulgaris: I have no mouth and I must scream.
elibalin: I read L'Inferno. I do not recall any point at which anyone went nuts with a giant axe.
syringavulgaris: As you say.
syringavulgaris: AND THEY ARE OPTING IT FOR A FILM.
syringavulgaris: That noise you heard? That was a whole raft of lit majors exploding.
elibalin: I bet I know who's slated to direct!
syringavulgaris: noooooooooooooo
elibalin: Jaaaaaaaaaaaa!
syringavulgaris: Oh, and that's not an axe, it's a scythe.
syringavulgaris: He killed the Grim Reaper and took his stuff.
syringavulgaris: Even typing these words, I feel my IQ drop.
elibalin: I am looking at this image and wondering which obscure Florentine politico the guy on the right is supposed to be.
elibalin: "After ripping off the head of a living ship while crossing one of the main rivers of hell, causing the boat to crash, you make your way up the sheer face of a pair of trembling mountainous columns and sprint across a crumbling bridge that's collapsing behind you. At quite literally the last moment, you make a final desperate leap to safety, attach yourself to a wall, and then drop to the ground to enjoy a moment's rest. With whatever breath remains in your lungs, you continue on your quest, circling down into another hellish dungeon where, after kicking the door down and readying your weapon, you prepare to meet your foe. From a fiery furnace a few feet away, it emerges: a small, monstrous infant with long curved blades where its hands used to be. Worse yet, it's not alone; soon the lone menacing demon-child is joined by another, and another, and still more. You grip your weapon and prepare for the worst. And this is just the first layer of hell. "
elibalin: Yep, that's what I think of when I think of unbaptized infants and virtuous pagans.

I returned this evening from the podiatrist, who judges that I have plantar fasciitis. Short form if you are suffering TL;DR: the connective stuff on the bottom of my (left) foot? It's inflamed and sad. This happens if you run, if you're overweight, if you're female, if you lug heavy stuff around, and if you wear high-heels or flip-flops (any shoes without arch support, basically). OH GOSH WELL I DON'T DO ANY OF THAT

So. I am to take ibuprofen for a week, and I am to ice the sad bit 2 or 3 times per day. I am to do stretching exercises[1]. I am not to run. I am to try and keep off it, and not do things that bother it. And I am to wear sensible shoes with arch support. IN SUMMER. kill stab hate kill

I am feeling whiny and oppressed; and also, if packing extra poundage contributes, how am I gonna lose it if I have to keep off my feet?! (The college pool is open, but I find laps so unspeakably tedious I can't stick to them... On sweh's advice I am looking into waterproof MP3 players, which would tidily solve my problem, but they seem to be much expense for low functionality.)

[1] One of the primary causes is tightness in the Achilles tendon and hamstrings. Yoga for almost a year? And I still have tightness there? what does it take

[Your humble correspondent returns from a meeting to see the baleful red eye of the voicemail glaring at her from her desk phone. She curses, and plays the message.]
Random Git's Message: Hi, this is Foo Bar. Can someone there please call me back. X12345 *click*
Your Humble Correspondent: Because what we love is some context in our messages. *dials number*
YHC: Hi, this is {me}, I received your message asking for a call?
RG: Yes!
YHC: ...so...what can I do for you? [1]
RG: Oh! I didn't...but...Maybe I have the wrong person.
YHC: ...............
RG: Are you in charge of the help desk?
YHC: I am in charge of the student help desk, yes.
RG: But for CUNYfirst? [2]
YHC: No, that's being handled by the Faculty/Staff help desk.
RG: So you're the wrong person?
YHC: . o O ( FOR WHAT? ) ....So it would seem.
RG: OK thanks *click*

[1] At this point I am assuming that it's some HR nonsense, as I happened to recognize the person's name as someone who works up there, not that she's actually said anything indicative yet.
[2]This is the big huge university-wide ERP implementation that's being slowly rolled out in stages, rather like successive biblical plagues.

I've spent most of the (still possibly insufficient, but at least greater) time at home recently nibbling at the This Is Not How I Want It problem. The chief process has been organizing the stuff that needs to go out, each according to its kind: this bag is for arkham1010, that one for elibalin, the monitor for nedlnthred's parents is in the corner, etc.; and then there is the large (and still growing) quantity of Stuff which is destined for donation.

Grump #1: the NYPL branch around the corner isn't taking book donations at the moment, because that would've been far too convenient. I shall have to schlep all the books I'm ditching up to either the branch at 78th and York, or to Housing Works at 77th and Third. Blarg.

Then, yesterday evening, I was seized by the urge to do furniture rearranging NAO NAO NAO, and so I did that thing. This involved unloading the bookshelves so I could move them, which opportunity I seized for more culling and a bit of reorganization. There was also a slight mishap involving another unit of furniture. I put it back together. ALL IS WELL, CITIZEN. Anyways, now the bookshelves are where the futon was, the futon is facing the fire escape window, and the smaller shelf unit with all my DVDs and some CDs on it is next to the kitchen work bench; but that is a temporary location, as I can now put an armchair there (if it isn't too large) and there can be actual seated comfortable conversation in the living room. It's also generally more pleasant and inviting, and I think I'm more likely to actually sit on the futon now.

Problems still staring balefully at me include:
1. Armchair + futon does not exactly a dinner party make. I can get a small table or something to put in the middle, but it's not sitting to dinner, you know? More like having noshies at a comfortable bar. Or am I holding on too tight?

2. I am not sure it works for gaming, either. Though it might do.

3. I would really like to put an end table next to the futon, but I think if I do, I won't be able to open the fridge.

4. The TV problem has not been addressed at all. I had a vague notion I could set things up so I could leave the iMac on my desk and just rotate it, to watch DVDs in comfort from the living room[1]; but it's just not going to work. And the way I have rearranged now[2], the focal point for a TV screen would be...attaching it to the window. Um.

5. Though I excised another large sack of books, and it let me put some more things on shelves instead of having them in piles, it's still not enough. I think I just don't want another bookshelf in here[3], and that means I have to live with what I've got, and argh. Well, if our house sale goes through next month, I can advance the eBook Solution.

But, in general, I look upon my work and find it Good. I can hang Dad's clan map of Scotland where the bookshelves were before, even. Now all of you people taking stuff of me PLEASE COME GET IT kthxbye.

[1] which still doesn't address the XBox issue, but it might do for the moment.
[2] I have one more shot in my locker, which involves putting the futon at a 30 degree angle, but I'm not sure it'll work, and I can't try it until more stuff goes away.
[3] except I'm going to have a small one in the bedroom for pr0n tasteful erotica, I think

Back to running today. 4 min. warmup, 21 min. running--of which I amped up .5 mph for the last third of it--, 5 min. cooldown. The effect of the amping-up was somewhat drastic; I came much closer to overheating, and am much more tired than I would otherwise be. Other than that, though, I found it entirely delightful and joyous. My various traitor body parts seem to be holding up well, too.

I want to curl up in the sun and snooze now.