So last night while leaving the office, I stepped funny as I was coming down the loading ramp. You know how when you're coming down a set of stairs and you think there's one more step but there isn't? Well, that's basically what happened. I thought the ramp continued, but it didn't and when my foot hit the ground, it sent pain shooting up my leg into the small of my back.
When I got home I took some ibuprofen and strapped an ice pack to my back and tried to explain to Scoob that I wasn't doing anything stupid or anything I wasn't supposed to, like heavy lifting, it was just the way my foot hit the ground. I did get a lower back massage, though, and he made dinner and took care of the dishes.
As if the back pain wasn't enough, there's really no polite way to say it, my period started this morning, which comes with it's own brand of fun. So, since I'm in double the pain, does that mean I get to take double the pain meds? I'm voting for this option, and I think Scoob is too.
Poor Scoob. This puts him in a no-win situation, he feels terrible when I'm hurting and wants to help me feel better, but between the cramping, bloating, unpredictable moods swings, and just general crankiness he also wants to stay the hell away from me on Day 1 of the period. And sometimes Day 2, too.
Making the best of a bad situation, he's been out riding his bicycle today and is including a stop at Target to get a heating pad for me because we haven't been able to find where we put the old one the last couple of times we needed it. So he's helping me and he's no where near me.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Gotta Get It Outta My Head
Well, my rosy optimism about uncluttering the house has gotten off to a unbelievable start, which is to say that, aside from going through my closet, nothing has happened. (The unbelievable part is that I went through my closet.)
I think the thing that bothers me most about all the "stuff," other than the fact that it's just in the way most of the time, is that more than likely somebody spent money on it and it just sits there. It's not being used; it just sits there.
And if money is just going to sit there, it might as well earn some interest while it's at it, however little that interest may be. Instead, the stuff just depreciates in value over time to the point that we just want to give it away to get rid of it. It made me remember this post over at The Simple Dollar.
I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that I work for a book publisher (which is part of the reason I have so many books in the house), but it also means that I read the trade journals and websites. Well this book caught my attention and it is one book I'm positive will never end up in my house, Sanjaya Malakar's Dancing to the Music in My Head: Memoirs of the People's Idol.
Now I haven't watched American Idol since I was completing an internship in Washington, D.C. It was the season Fantasia won, and the reason I watched then had more to do with my almost-21-year-old-roommates than any true desire of my own. At any rate, whether or not you watch, it's nearly impossible to avoid all exposure to the spectacle, which is to say, okay I vaguely know who this Sanjaya guy is.
But I also know he's only 19. How do you write your memoirs at 19, let alone 256 pages of them? Okay, Britney Spears might have been able to pull off memoirs at 19, but this guy? Does this mean for hom that it's all downhill from here?
Oh, and he's written his memoirs with Alan Goldsher, which really means one of two things 1) either Sanjaya truly did write the memoirs, but the editor had to do so much work to get them presentable as a book that the editor demanded a rather prominent cover attribution, or 2) Sanajaya told this guy Goldsher some slightly interesting stories and Goldsher had to beef them up to make it interesting enough to publish as a book, in which case the title really should be Dancing to the Music in My Head: The Imagined memoirs of Sanjaya Malakar, the People's Idol.
Simon & Schuster is publishing the book (I don't work for them), which probably means the guy got a hefty advance to write/dictate it--I would guess mid-to-high 5-figures, but I always lowball these things; I wouldn't at all be surprised if he made 6-figures. Oh, and it was published as a hardcover! Really?
Anyhow, I certainly won't be buying the book, and I don't really have any interest in borrowing from the library. I hope the library doesn't spend any tax dollars on this piece of pulp.
I think the thing that bothers me most about all the "stuff," other than the fact that it's just in the way most of the time, is that more than likely somebody spent money on it and it just sits there. It's not being used; it just sits there.
And if money is just going to sit there, it might as well earn some interest while it's at it, however little that interest may be. Instead, the stuff just depreciates in value over time to the point that we just want to give it away to get rid of it. It made me remember this post over at The Simple Dollar.
I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that I work for a book publisher (which is part of the reason I have so many books in the house), but it also means that I read the trade journals and websites. Well this book caught my attention and it is one book I'm positive will never end up in my house, Sanjaya Malakar's Dancing to the Music in My Head: Memoirs of the People's Idol.
Now I haven't watched American Idol since I was completing an internship in Washington, D.C. It was the season Fantasia won, and the reason I watched then had more to do with my almost-21-year-old-roommates than any true desire of my own. At any rate, whether or not you watch, it's nearly impossible to avoid all exposure to the spectacle, which is to say, okay I vaguely know who this Sanjaya guy is.
But I also know he's only 19. How do you write your memoirs at 19, let alone 256 pages of them? Okay, Britney Spears might have been able to pull off memoirs at 19, but this guy? Does this mean for hom that it's all downhill from here?
Oh, and he's written his memoirs with Alan Goldsher, which really means one of two things 1) either Sanjaya truly did write the memoirs, but the editor had to do so much work to get them presentable as a book that the editor demanded a rather prominent cover attribution, or 2) Sanajaya told this guy Goldsher some slightly interesting stories and Goldsher had to beef them up to make it interesting enough to publish as a book, in which case the title really should be Dancing to the Music in My Head: The Imagined memoirs of Sanjaya Malakar, the People's Idol.
Simon & Schuster is publishing the book (I don't work for them), which probably means the guy got a hefty advance to write/dictate it--I would guess mid-to-high 5-figures, but I always lowball these things; I wouldn't at all be surprised if he made 6-figures. Oh, and it was published as a hardcover! Really?
Anyhow, I certainly won't be buying the book, and I don't really have any interest in borrowing from the library. I hope the library doesn't spend any tax dollars on this piece of pulp.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Awareness
So, yesterday morning as I was sitting in my car at a red light on my way to work, I saw this little old man out walking. He seemed normal enough, well-groomed, white hair, glasses, medium build, you know normal.
Then as I watched, he walked up to a light post, stuck his finger in his nose, and wiped the boogie on the post! ACK! Thank goodness it wasn't the post with the crosswalk signal, but still, is this normal?
Is it normal and they've been doing this all along and I'm only just beginning to notice because I'm getting older myself? You know, like you don't really notice the ingredients mom puts in your favorite soup until you actually start cooking. Or, how you don't notice the little tricks that mothers do while juggling baby, diaper, bottle, and sanity until you're preparing to enter motherhood yourself?
Is this what I have to look forward to?
Then as I watched, he walked up to a light post, stuck his finger in his nose, and wiped the boogie on the post! ACK! Thank goodness it wasn't the post with the crosswalk signal, but still, is this normal?
Is it normal and they've been doing this all along and I'm only just beginning to notice because I'm getting older myself? You know, like you don't really notice the ingredients mom puts in your favorite soup until you actually start cooking. Or, how you don't notice the little tricks that mothers do while juggling baby, diaper, bottle, and sanity until you're preparing to enter motherhood yourself?
Is this what I have to look forward to?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Feelin' Good
So, while I wouldn't exactly call our volunteering experience yesterday at the Food Bank fun, it was enjoyable. We spent the afternoon sorting a couple of pallets coming in from a grocery store, but first, we had to be trained.
Training consisted mostly of explaining the distribution chain and making sure we understood what we could and could not accept as we sorted the food. The food bank sorts the food and distributes it to about 300 other organizations in the county who then prepare or otherwise get the food to individuals; they do not give food directly to individuals from the food bank warehouse.
The training on what is and isn't acceptable was a bit more detailed, and surprising. We were told we needed to read the ingredients list of every product for alcohol content. This actually makes total sense to make sure that folks in recovery aren't inadvertently exposed to alcohol but I hadn't thought about it until they told us. We found salad dressings that contained wine and a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale mustard.
We also needed to read the ingredient lists because of the current salmonella outbreak associated with peanut butter. As the contaminated products list expands to include pet foods and brownie mixes, rather than expect us to memorize an 8 page list of unacceptable peanut products, we were asked to simply segregate anything containing, or exposed to, peanuts for food bank staff to sort through. We got a whole box full of sliced almonds, halved walnuts, pecans, and cashews, but because they were processed in a plant that also handles peanuts we had to set them aside. Anything that contained peanut oil also fell in this category.
Anything separated from it's ingredients list was immediately discarded.
We also had to set aside non-food items (adult diapers, cough syrup, tampons and the like), which are typically rerouted to health clinics. Surprisingly, we saw quite a bit of that, though the strangest item in that category had to be the personal lubricant. Who donated personal lubricant? Nevermind.
We set aside pet items, which get sent to the local SPCA, baby products, both food and non-food, were set aside to go to specific community organizations, and we set aside any straight-up alcohol for the food bank staff. Just kidding. Though we did get a bottle of white wine in one box.
We also had to remove high-sugar content drinks. To help battle obesity, Alameda county doesn't allow high-sugar drinks (full-sugar sodas and juices) to be served to children by county agencies, or agencies that receive county assistance. So out went all the Capri Sun and Juicy Juice pouch drinks.
Along with what types of items we could and couldn't accept and what to do with them, we were also instructed on how to spot spoiled foodstuffs, and how to evaluate damaged packaging to determine if the food inside was still acceptable.
We were all stunned at how much of the canned food was unacceptable due to denting. Any can with multiple dents, accordion-style denting, or a single dent where your finger fits in the valley of the dent was thrown out. Of the 20 – 25 boxes of food we sorted, we only accepted 4 cans. We could tape up cardboard packaging as long as the contents were sealed in bags.
I've always associated food drives with canned foods, but after seeing how much of it gets discarded, I'll be donating other types of packaging from now on. The best type of packaging was probably the vacuum-packed pouches—the pouches are flexible and pretty difficult to puncture, they're lightweight and don't take up nearly as much room for storage and transport. We saw pouches of pasta sauces, tuna, and chicken breasts. One of the chicken breast pouches had ruptured, though, and had gotten pretty funky.
Any foodstuff that was unacceptable and unspoiled and wasn't in a can, was set aside for the pigs. The food bank has a huge bin for collecting this stuff that's then sent to a pig farm out in Stockton, and let me tell you, those pigs eat well. Grandpa was a pig farmer and he would have loved an arrangement like this.
After our warehouse shift was finished, we sat down with a community outreach representative and he gave us some facts and figures. The one that really stood out to me was that historically, the food bank used to get about 75% of their donations from grocery store leftovers, but today that number is closer to 35% and it's because computers and software have enabled stores to better manage their inventory and ordering.
While they still receive food donations from individuals, giving is concentrated during the holiday season and the food bank ends up purchasing a lot more food to help fill the gaps than they ever used to.
Anyhow, that's what an afternoon at the Alameda Food Bank was like. There wasn't nearly as much physical work as I had anticipated with warehouse work, but I am a wee bit sore today. It was a rewarding experience, and a reminder of how easy it really can be to give back to the community. I hope to do it again.
Training consisted mostly of explaining the distribution chain and making sure we understood what we could and could not accept as we sorted the food. The food bank sorts the food and distributes it to about 300 other organizations in the county who then prepare or otherwise get the food to individuals; they do not give food directly to individuals from the food bank warehouse.
The training on what is and isn't acceptable was a bit more detailed, and surprising. We were told we needed to read the ingredients list of every product for alcohol content. This actually makes total sense to make sure that folks in recovery aren't inadvertently exposed to alcohol but I hadn't thought about it until they told us. We found salad dressings that contained wine and a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale mustard.
We also needed to read the ingredient lists because of the current salmonella outbreak associated with peanut butter. As the contaminated products list expands to include pet foods and brownie mixes, rather than expect us to memorize an 8 page list of unacceptable peanut products, we were asked to simply segregate anything containing, or exposed to, peanuts for food bank staff to sort through. We got a whole box full of sliced almonds, halved walnuts, pecans, and cashews, but because they were processed in a plant that also handles peanuts we had to set them aside. Anything that contained peanut oil also fell in this category.
Anything separated from it's ingredients list was immediately discarded.
We also had to set aside non-food items (adult diapers, cough syrup, tampons and the like), which are typically rerouted to health clinics. Surprisingly, we saw quite a bit of that, though the strangest item in that category had to be the personal lubricant. Who donated personal lubricant? Nevermind.
We set aside pet items, which get sent to the local SPCA, baby products, both food and non-food, were set aside to go to specific community organizations, and we set aside any straight-up alcohol for the food bank staff. Just kidding. Though we did get a bottle of white wine in one box.
We also had to remove high-sugar content drinks. To help battle obesity, Alameda county doesn't allow high-sugar drinks (full-sugar sodas and juices) to be served to children by county agencies, or agencies that receive county assistance. So out went all the Capri Sun and Juicy Juice pouch drinks.
Along with what types of items we could and couldn't accept and what to do with them, we were also instructed on how to spot spoiled foodstuffs, and how to evaluate damaged packaging to determine if the food inside was still acceptable.
We were all stunned at how much of the canned food was unacceptable due to denting. Any can with multiple dents, accordion-style denting, or a single dent where your finger fits in the valley of the dent was thrown out. Of the 20 – 25 boxes of food we sorted, we only accepted 4 cans. We could tape up cardboard packaging as long as the contents were sealed in bags.
I've always associated food drives with canned foods, but after seeing how much of it gets discarded, I'll be donating other types of packaging from now on. The best type of packaging was probably the vacuum-packed pouches—the pouches are flexible and pretty difficult to puncture, they're lightweight and don't take up nearly as much room for storage and transport. We saw pouches of pasta sauces, tuna, and chicken breasts. One of the chicken breast pouches had ruptured, though, and had gotten pretty funky.
Any foodstuff that was unacceptable and unspoiled and wasn't in a can, was set aside for the pigs. The food bank has a huge bin for collecting this stuff that's then sent to a pig farm out in Stockton, and let me tell you, those pigs eat well. Grandpa was a pig farmer and he would have loved an arrangement like this.
After our warehouse shift was finished, we sat down with a community outreach representative and he gave us some facts and figures. The one that really stood out to me was that historically, the food bank used to get about 75% of their donations from grocery store leftovers, but today that number is closer to 35% and it's because computers and software have enabled stores to better manage their inventory and ordering.
While they still receive food donations from individuals, giving is concentrated during the holiday season and the food bank ends up purchasing a lot more food to help fill the gaps than they ever used to.
Anyhow, that's what an afternoon at the Alameda Food Bank was like. There wasn't nearly as much physical work as I had anticipated with warehouse work, but I am a wee bit sore today. It was a rewarding experience, and a reminder of how easy it really can be to give back to the community. I hope to do it again.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Grubbies
I've never had an overly developed fashion sense. I would even be tempted to say I don't even have a developed fashion sense.
Growing up, Mom had 3 types of clothes for me--dressy (those frilly, lacy clothes for special occasions), regular (no holes, no stains for school and such), and play clothes. Play clothes were the regular clothes that were no longer acceptable for regular purposes. Play clothes were also called grubbies, meaning if you get them dirty (grubby) or otherwise ruin them no one is going to be upset.
When I would stay with my Dad, he only recognized two types of clothes--dressy and regular. As such, he would often dress me in what Mom would call regular clothes for something Mom would have put me in grubbies. Which, of course, by the time I was done doing whatever I was doing, I had new grubbies.
As far as Dad was concerned, kids shouldn't be dressed in anything you don't expect to get ruined anyway--it was only natural for kids to destroy their clothes. He never understood why Mom got so angry when I came home with a suitcase full of grubbies that used to be school clothes.
Eventually Mom just stopped packing regular clothes for me when I went to stay with Dad and I'd run around all summer dressed like a ragamuffin urchin, which is totally fine when you're 9.
These days I have dressy clothes (formal wear, very few of these), office clothes (slacks and blouses), casual (denim and cotton shirts), and grubbies (denim and t-shirts I don't mind getting dirty or ruining).
Today, the editorial department at work will be fulfilling our pledge and volunteering at the Alameda County Food Bank. We've been instructed to wear comfortable clothes that we can move freely in and that we don't mind getting dirty in the warehouse.
Clearly, this is a situation for grubbies. But I also need to wear these clothes to work in the morning. Not a situation for grubbies. I could just take a change of clothes, but it's casual Friday anyway (not that we limit casual to Friday at our office--cargo shorts and flip flops are de rigeur).
Most of my co-workers are pretty cosmopolitan; I'm just fretting that what I consider grubbies might really belong in the rag bin. Because after clothes are too ruined to even be grubbies, that's where they go. Another Momism.
I'm starting to think my neck may be redder than I realize.
Growing up, Mom had 3 types of clothes for me--dressy (those frilly, lacy clothes for special occasions), regular (no holes, no stains for school and such), and play clothes. Play clothes were the regular clothes that were no longer acceptable for regular purposes. Play clothes were also called grubbies, meaning if you get them dirty (grubby) or otherwise ruin them no one is going to be upset.
When I would stay with my Dad, he only recognized two types of clothes--dressy and regular. As such, he would often dress me in what Mom would call regular clothes for something Mom would have put me in grubbies. Which, of course, by the time I was done doing whatever I was doing, I had new grubbies.
As far as Dad was concerned, kids shouldn't be dressed in anything you don't expect to get ruined anyway--it was only natural for kids to destroy their clothes. He never understood why Mom got so angry when I came home with a suitcase full of grubbies that used to be school clothes.
Eventually Mom just stopped packing regular clothes for me when I went to stay with Dad and I'd run around all summer dressed like a ragamuffin urchin, which is totally fine when you're 9.
These days I have dressy clothes (formal wear, very few of these), office clothes (slacks and blouses), casual (denim and cotton shirts), and grubbies (denim and t-shirts I don't mind getting dirty or ruining).
Today, the editorial department at work will be fulfilling our pledge and volunteering at the Alameda County Food Bank. We've been instructed to wear comfortable clothes that we can move freely in and that we don't mind getting dirty in the warehouse.
Clearly, this is a situation for grubbies. But I also need to wear these clothes to work in the morning. Not a situation for grubbies. I could just take a change of clothes, but it's casual Friday anyway (not that we limit casual to Friday at our office--cargo shorts and flip flops are de rigeur).
Most of my co-workers are pretty cosmopolitan; I'm just fretting that what I consider grubbies might really belong in the rag bin. Because after clothes are too ruined to even be grubbies, that's where they go. Another Momism.
I'm starting to think my neck may be redder than I realize.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
It Ought to Be a Crime
I don't like to dwell much on things I have no control over, but I'm going on a mini-rant, 'cause if I go for a full rant I'll probably explode.
So Scoob works for Hewlett-Packard. He's worked there 15 years; 3 as a contractor and the last 12 on payroll. He has received one, count 'em, one, 2% raise in the past 7 years, and in that time his workload has easily quintupled. More than that actually. He used to be responsible for 5 wizzy-whigs, now he's responsible for 90 whizzy-whigs and managing other people (not that his job classification has changed).
Hewlett-Packard laid off nearly 25,000 employees last year due to "the poor economy" and "restructuring." They have plans to lay off another 2,600 in the next few months.
Yet, Hewlett-Packard reported to the Securities and Exchange Commission that CEO Mark Hurd's total compensation for 2008 was in the neighborhood of $42.5 million. MILLION. Other high level executives were reportedly compensated in the $20 million range.
Just last week, managers at Hewlett-Packard met with their project teams for brainstorming sessions on how to save the company more money. Well, I can see some glaringly obvious opportunities for saving some money—a helluva lot more money than cancelling holiday parties, turning down the thermostat, and taking away the free coffee and tea in the break room would.
Where is the Board of Directors in all this? They approve the CEO's compensation. I bet their compensation packages are just as padded, even though corporation Boards typically only meet once per fiscal quarter. Where are the shareholders? Your Board is not protecting your interests when it approves such astronomical compensation packages.
We're just frustrated. As Scoob says, "Hell, even the mafia takes care of its people." Scoob actually likes the work he's doing, but it's getting awfully difficult to want to go to work everyday and give 100%.
All I can say is W.T.F. It's just obscene.
So Scoob works for Hewlett-Packard. He's worked there 15 years; 3 as a contractor and the last 12 on payroll. He has received one, count 'em, one, 2% raise in the past 7 years, and in that time his workload has easily quintupled. More than that actually. He used to be responsible for 5 wizzy-whigs, now he's responsible for 90 whizzy-whigs and managing other people (not that his job classification has changed).
Hewlett-Packard laid off nearly 25,000 employees last year due to "the poor economy" and "restructuring." They have plans to lay off another 2,600 in the next few months.
Yet, Hewlett-Packard reported to the Securities and Exchange Commission that CEO Mark Hurd's total compensation for 2008 was in the neighborhood of $42.5 million. MILLION. Other high level executives were reportedly compensated in the $20 million range.
Just last week, managers at Hewlett-Packard met with their project teams for brainstorming sessions on how to save the company more money. Well, I can see some glaringly obvious opportunities for saving some money—a helluva lot more money than cancelling holiday parties, turning down the thermostat, and taking away the free coffee and tea in the break room would.
Where is the Board of Directors in all this? They approve the CEO's compensation. I bet their compensation packages are just as padded, even though corporation Boards typically only meet once per fiscal quarter. Where are the shareholders? Your Board is not protecting your interests when it approves such astronomical compensation packages.
We're just frustrated. As Scoob says, "Hell, even the mafia takes care of its people." Scoob actually likes the work he's doing, but it's getting awfully difficult to want to go to work everyday and give 100%.
All I can say is W.T.F. It's just obscene.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Afternoon Outing
Scoob and I spent the afternoon yesterday playing tourist in Palo Alto (you know, where the rich peole live) enjoying the sunshine and taking pictures. We started out at Stanford Shopping Center because they have amazing landscaping, with planters lush with flowers and water features. It's usually a good place for people watching too. Usually.
But if yesterday was any indication, the shopping center has chosen landscaping as one of their budget cuts. Only about a third of the planters were being tended. The people watching wasn't all that great either. I didn't end up taking any pictures at the shopping center. Though I must admit a large part of the reason was me being self-conscious.
After roaming the shopping center, we headed over to the Rodin sculpture garden at Stanford University. The sun was beginning to set when we got there, which is usually my favorite time to photograph, but unfortunately, the sun had already passed the sculptures. I did manage to get a few of The Gates of Hell in the sun though.
We wrapped up the evening with a splurge at The Cheesecake Factory on University Avenue. (Thanks for the gift card, J&B) It was the first time I'd been to a Cheesecake Factory and I must say I was overwhelmed—the menu was enormous (so much so that they actually sell advertising space, every recto was menu items and every verso was a full-page ad. Actually quite off-putting) and it didn't seem like they quite knew what they wanted to be.
There were southern-style soul food items, and pastas, and pizzas, and seared ahis, and of course cheesecake. Which I guess is good for appealing to a wide dining audience, but it makes me somewhat apprehensive and makes actually deciding what to order (an always difficult task for me) very time-consuming. Once I got over the whole menu thing and made a choice, I enjoyed the night out. I ended up ordering a chicken cashew salad, and of course cheesecake. Chocolate raspberry truffle, to be exact.
Here are some of my favorite shots from the day:
And of course, the cheesecake:
But if yesterday was any indication, the shopping center has chosen landscaping as one of their budget cuts. Only about a third of the planters were being tended. The people watching wasn't all that great either. I didn't end up taking any pictures at the shopping center. Though I must admit a large part of the reason was me being self-conscious.
After roaming the shopping center, we headed over to the Rodin sculpture garden at Stanford University. The sun was beginning to set when we got there, which is usually my favorite time to photograph, but unfortunately, the sun had already passed the sculptures. I did manage to get a few of The Gates of Hell in the sun though.
We wrapped up the evening with a splurge at The Cheesecake Factory on University Avenue. (Thanks for the gift card, J&B) It was the first time I'd been to a Cheesecake Factory and I must say I was overwhelmed—the menu was enormous (so much so that they actually sell advertising space, every recto was menu items and every verso was a full-page ad. Actually quite off-putting) and it didn't seem like they quite knew what they wanted to be.
There were southern-style soul food items, and pastas, and pizzas, and seared ahis, and of course cheesecake. Which I guess is good for appealing to a wide dining audience, but it makes me somewhat apprehensive and makes actually deciding what to order (an always difficult task for me) very time-consuming. Once I got over the whole menu thing and made a choice, I enjoyed the night out. I ended up ordering a chicken cashew salad, and of course cheesecake. Chocolate raspberry truffle, to be exact.
Here are some of my favorite shots from the day:
And of course, the cheesecake:
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