We just completed the 2010 Census. I must say: What a waste, of everything, on every level.
First, the commercials. A waste of time, a waste of energy, a waste of airspace, and a waste of money. These visual disasters started on Super Bowl Sunday. No one had any clue what they were about. We all thought they were overblown. They appealed (and I use the term loosely) to a very, very small sliver of the population. Even those of us who appreciate that sort of wacky, spoofy, faux-dramatic style of humor thought they sucked, and certainly did not get the message across. If they felt it absolutely necessary to do this series of commercials, they could have done the same thing with no-name actors, but Ed Begley, Jr., Jennifer Coolidge, Don Lake... while they aren't A-list names, they are recognizable people and probably cost some actual cash.
Second, the pre-mail. A waste of paper, a waste of toner, and a waste of money. We got a letter in the mail with text on the front indicating that the contents were very important. VERY IMPORTANT! And that it was from the Census Bureau. So I opened it, thinking it was the census forms. But no, it was a simple, one-page letter informing me that we should expect the census in a week. Futurama fans out there will appreciate the similarities to Hermes Conrad's very own special episode in which he receives a letter from the Central Bureaucracy informing him that he should soon be receiving a letter from the Central Bureaucracy. But at least in the cartoon, the subsequent letter from the Central Bureaucracy came immediately after the alert letter. The 2010 Census did not in fact arrive in one week per the alerting pre-mail. It arrived at least two and a half weeks later.
Third, the Census itself. An utter joke. So much buildup and that was it? I remember the 2000 Census. I was sharing a townhouse with three other women at JMU, and we had a grand time deciding who was going to be considered Head of Household and filling out the sundry requested information like Occupation, Level of Education, Marital Status, etc. I guess that must have offended some people last time because the 2010 Census didn't seem to care for any information above our names, ages, birthdates, and race. That's it. It didn't want my maiden name or our full middle names (just middle initial). It didn't want our occupations. It didn't want our level of education. It didn't want ID numbers to differentiate Mr. Rosie from the other men out there with the same name. However, it did want both our ages as of April 1, 2010 AND our birthdates. You'd think that the computer program into which all this information will be entered could have calculated that out for them. Were they trying to test our math skills or honesty? And as for race, it first asked whether I'm of Hispanic descent, which I personally think diminishes those of us who aren't of Hispanic descent as of less interest. These sorts of things used to ask for race and gave the big categories, offering further specification for Hispanic or Asian. That pisses me off. Why is there only one all-encompassing checkbox for "White" and "Black," but "Asian" isn't sufficient for someone of, say, Thai descent? Why can you be not just "Hispanic" but Mexican or Dominican? If you're going to specify out like that, why not get specific with "White" and "Black"? Nothing whatsoever against my dear Rosie readers of Hispanic or Asian descent; I just question the dichotomy.
Anyway, my capital-i Issues with the Census checkboxes aside, I may be aging myself when I say that I remember when the census was about more than population density and finance appropriation. We used to use the census to trace genealogy, to determine demographics, to observe the movement of the population over time. What can you tell about me based on the 2010 Census other than I'm a 30 year old white chick with a blend-in name?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Olympics 2010
Are you all as disappointed in the Olympics broadcasting as I am?
I remember back to years past when a sport I especially liked (or that just caught my interest) was on, and I would be watching it for hours. If figure skating was on, it was just figure skating (broken by commercials of course) until the competition at hand was over. One skater would go out and do their thing, they'd sit for their scores, the audience would clap politely, and the camera would then be on the next skater preparing to go out. Figure skating, pairs, ice dancing, speed skating, skiing, bobsled, luge, skeleton - you could watch the entire sport of your choice at once.
This time - or perhaps this is just the first time I'm noticing it and they've been doing it for a while now - it's all broken up and patched back together. To begin with, it's almost impossible to determine when your sport of choice is on. Remember the old TV Guide, where they would block several hours at a time and label it according to the sport being shown? Now, it's "Hockey, Curling" or "Speed Skating, Ice Dancing, Luge" all at once. I was excited to trip over pairs skating a few nights ago, and settled down to watch it. They showed one - ONE! - pair of skaters, then cut to commercial, then skipped over to luge for a round or two, then back to commercial, then skiing, then commercial... I have no idea if they ever did the second pair of skaters, let alone when I'll be able to see the other sports I care about. (Biathalon? No thanks; but I have to watch some of it if I want to catch Moguls.)
In this day of DVRs and on-demand viewing, it seems absolutely ridiculous to set it up this way. Curling's on at 2 a.m.? That's cool - you can set your Tivo and you won't miss a minute. Speaking of curling, I was watching last night. NBC would break for commercial or to talk to their commentators, then the camera would hop back to the competition and several more stones were on the ice. WTH? Since NBC is already playing Benihana chef with the coverage, you'd think they wouldn't clip the actual playing!
Whose fault is this? Is it NBC, trying to hold more viewers and sell more ad space? Is it the IOC, trying to get more people into more sports (and bowing to the commercial interests by setting more time between competitors)? Is this a response to America's growing ADD problem? Can't focus on one thing, let's hop back and forth between all of them. Or maybe it's a way to hold viewers and keep them from straying to other networks - I hear American Idol is on, so maybe if they tease you with 5 minutes of your favorite sport, they hope to keep you on the edge of your seat waiting for your sport to come back on rather than seeing what else is on.
Come to think of it, here's another complaint: they aren't even cutting into their normal daytime programming for this. In college (okay and a few years after), when I used to watch Days of Our Lives, I developed an intense hatred for the sport of tennis during that time because - for a solid week - they would preempt Days for some tennis tournament. However, for the last couple of days when I've been working from home, the cable guide has listed Days of Our Lives. They'll cut it for tennis, but they won't budge it for THE OLYMPICS?
All I know is that now I can't get a true respect for the skill of Shani Davis, or the grace of Tanith Belbin and Ben Agosto, or the speed or Lindsey Vonn, when I'm not seeing their performances back-to-back against the other competitors in their field. NBC, IOC, BOC, whoever's fault this is, please put it back the way it was. It wasn't broken. Don't fix it.
I remember back to years past when a sport I especially liked (or that just caught my interest) was on, and I would be watching it for hours. If figure skating was on, it was just figure skating (broken by commercials of course) until the competition at hand was over. One skater would go out and do their thing, they'd sit for their scores, the audience would clap politely, and the camera would then be on the next skater preparing to go out. Figure skating, pairs, ice dancing, speed skating, skiing, bobsled, luge, skeleton - you could watch the entire sport of your choice at once.
This time - or perhaps this is just the first time I'm noticing it and they've been doing it for a while now - it's all broken up and patched back together. To begin with, it's almost impossible to determine when your sport of choice is on. Remember the old TV Guide, where they would block several hours at a time and label it according to the sport being shown? Now, it's "Hockey, Curling" or "Speed Skating, Ice Dancing, Luge" all at once. I was excited to trip over pairs skating a few nights ago, and settled down to watch it. They showed one - ONE! - pair of skaters, then cut to commercial, then skipped over to luge for a round or two, then back to commercial, then skiing, then commercial... I have no idea if they ever did the second pair of skaters, let alone when I'll be able to see the other sports I care about. (Biathalon? No thanks; but I have to watch some of it if I want to catch Moguls.)
In this day of DVRs and on-demand viewing, it seems absolutely ridiculous to set it up this way. Curling's on at 2 a.m.? That's cool - you can set your Tivo and you won't miss a minute. Speaking of curling, I was watching last night. NBC would break for commercial or to talk to their commentators, then the camera would hop back to the competition and several more stones were on the ice. WTH? Since NBC is already playing Benihana chef with the coverage, you'd think they wouldn't clip the actual playing!
Whose fault is this? Is it NBC, trying to hold more viewers and sell more ad space? Is it the IOC, trying to get more people into more sports (and bowing to the commercial interests by setting more time between competitors)? Is this a response to America's growing ADD problem? Can't focus on one thing, let's hop back and forth between all of them. Or maybe it's a way to hold viewers and keep them from straying to other networks - I hear American Idol is on, so maybe if they tease you with 5 minutes of your favorite sport, they hope to keep you on the edge of your seat waiting for your sport to come back on rather than seeing what else is on.
Come to think of it, here's another complaint: they aren't even cutting into their normal daytime programming for this. In college (okay and a few years after), when I used to watch Days of Our Lives, I developed an intense hatred for the sport of tennis during that time because - for a solid week - they would preempt Days for some tennis tournament. However, for the last couple of days when I've been working from home, the cable guide has listed Days of Our Lives. They'll cut it for tennis, but they won't budge it for THE OLYMPICS?
All I know is that now I can't get a true respect for the skill of Shani Davis, or the grace of Tanith Belbin and Ben Agosto, or the speed or Lindsey Vonn, when I'm not seeing their performances back-to-back against the other competitors in their field. NBC, IOC, BOC, whoever's fault this is, please put it back the way it was. It wasn't broken. Don't fix it.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Like Taking Candy From a Baby
Or, How to Estrange Your Granddaughter in One Easy Step
Christmas with the Family was uncharacteristically calm and (dare I say?) pleasant this year. The only points worth mentioning for your amusement were a minor dust-up over the scheduling of events on Christmas Eve, and that Dad ate a stinkbug (he thought it was a peanut). Are we maturing? Finding a rut? Getting along better? Who can tell. But far be it from Rosie to leave her loyal fans without a story, and therefore I offer for you this Tale Of Interest.
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My sister received her Bachelor’s degree on December 11, for which we are obviously quite proud of her, and my father flew out to Colorado to be present as Sister walked the stage and received her diploma. He arrived on Friday and he, Sister, Mom, and my five-year old Niece (henceforth known as “Isabelle” for the purposes of direct referral) went out to dinner at a nice restaurant near his hotel. Dinner went reasonably well, despite some awkwardness from his posturing and boasting, and his efforts to pressure Mom into driving 100+ miles out of her way to drop Sister off at his house for the holidays in order to spare him the “inconvenience” of driving up to BWI (where they were flying in) to collect Sister and Niece himself.
The next day, Sister was at the convention center early to prepare for the ceremony, leaving Dad, Mom, and Niece to occupy themselves in the meantime. While sitting in the stands and waiting for the graduation to get organized, Mom thought out loud, “I wonder if there’s enough time to get some flowers for Isabelle to give to Sister?” On cue, Dad took up the charge: “I’ll do it!” Niece joined him, and off they went into the hallways. Some time later, they returned triumphant: Dad bearing a lovely bouquet of red roses, and Niece proudly bearing her very own single red rose. “She cajoled me into buying it for her,” Dad explained. A very sweet gesture, I think you’ll agree.
The ceremony begins, and in due course, Sister walks the stage, performs the complicated hand-jive that graduation officials insist on to effect the simultaneous handshake/diploma-exchange, and rejoins the family at the ceremony’s end. Isabelle runs over to Sister, and Dad, chest puffed out, marches over with the flowers in hand. Isabelle reaches for the bouquet to give to her mommy, but Dad stops her.
“No, no, Isabelle. Since *I* bought the flowers, *I’m* going to give them to her.”
The End.
Christmas with the Family was uncharacteristically calm and (dare I say?) pleasant this year. The only points worth mentioning for your amusement were a minor dust-up over the scheduling of events on Christmas Eve, and that Dad ate a stinkbug (he thought it was a peanut). Are we maturing? Finding a rut? Getting along better? Who can tell. But far be it from Rosie to leave her loyal fans without a story, and therefore I offer for you this Tale Of Interest.
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My sister received her Bachelor’s degree on December 11, for which we are obviously quite proud of her, and my father flew out to Colorado to be present as Sister walked the stage and received her diploma. He arrived on Friday and he, Sister, Mom, and my five-year old Niece (henceforth known as “Isabelle” for the purposes of direct referral) went out to dinner at a nice restaurant near his hotel. Dinner went reasonably well, despite some awkwardness from his posturing and boasting, and his efforts to pressure Mom into driving 100+ miles out of her way to drop Sister off at his house for the holidays in order to spare him the “inconvenience” of driving up to BWI (where they were flying in) to collect Sister and Niece himself.
The next day, Sister was at the convention center early to prepare for the ceremony, leaving Dad, Mom, and Niece to occupy themselves in the meantime. While sitting in the stands and waiting for the graduation to get organized, Mom thought out loud, “I wonder if there’s enough time to get some flowers for Isabelle to give to Sister?” On cue, Dad took up the charge: “I’ll do it!” Niece joined him, and off they went into the hallways. Some time later, they returned triumphant: Dad bearing a lovely bouquet of red roses, and Niece proudly bearing her very own single red rose. “She cajoled me into buying it for her,” Dad explained. A very sweet gesture, I think you’ll agree.
The ceremony begins, and in due course, Sister walks the stage, performs the complicated hand-jive that graduation officials insist on to effect the simultaneous handshake/diploma-exchange, and rejoins the family at the ceremony’s end. Isabelle runs over to Sister, and Dad, chest puffed out, marches over with the flowers in hand. Isabelle reaches for the bouquet to give to her mommy, but Dad stops her.
“No, no, Isabelle. Since *I* bought the flowers, *I’m* going to give them to her.”
The End.
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Kitties and Doggies Need Your Help!
Vote for Rolling Dog Ranch!!
Petfinder and The Animal Rescue Site are running a shelter giveaway challenge through December 20 in which participants vote once a day for the shelter of their choice; Petfinder/Rescue will then donate $20,000 to the shelter with the most votes.
Follow the link below to get to the voting site. To locate the organization, enter "Rolling Dog Ranch" in the Shelter Name field, and choose "MT" from the State list, then click Search. The shelter name should appear immediately beneath the Search box, along with a Vote button. Click the button - that's all it takes! No sign-up, no donation required, just a minute of your time.
Voting Site: http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/clickToGive/shelterchallenge.faces?siteId=3
Petfinder and The Animal Rescue Site are running a shelter giveaway challenge through December 20 in which participants vote once a day for the shelter of their choice; Petfinder/Rescue will then donate $20,000 to the shelter with the most votes.
Follow the link below to get to the voting site. To locate the organization, enter "Rolling Dog Ranch" in the Shelter Name field, and choose "MT" from the State list, then click Search. The shelter name should appear immediately beneath the Search box, along with a Vote button. Click the button - that's all it takes! No sign-up, no donation required, just a minute of your time.
Voting Site: http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/clickToGive/shelterchallenge.faces?siteId=3
You can vote once a day from each computer in your access, each day through December 20. They're already in the lead, so join me in helping Rolling Dog Ranch to get this much-needed grant!
Rolling Dog Ranch is a non-profit sanctuary that takes in abused and/or disabled dogs, cats, and horses that would otherwise be put down in ordinary shelters, and gives them a chance at a better life. The new residents are blind, deaf, paralyzed, missing limbs, suffering from severe vertigo or spinal defects, but are rescued, given a safe home, and provided with medical treatment.
P.S. If you are able to give, all donations to Rolling Dog Ranch are tax-deductible!
Rolling Dog Ranch is a non-profit sanctuary that takes in abused and/or disabled dogs, cats, and horses that would otherwise be put down in ordinary shelters, and gives them a chance at a better life. The new residents are blind, deaf, paralyzed, missing limbs, suffering from severe vertigo or spinal defects, but are rescued, given a safe home, and provided with medical treatment.
P.S. If you are able to give, all donations to Rolling Dog Ranch are tax-deductible!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Would You Like Some Hate With That Firewood?
I've been meaning to put up this post for a couple of days now, but the holidays got in the way, as they tend to do this time of year. On Tuesday, Husband and I received a postcard-sized flyer tucked in our door jamb, advertising firewood and tree servicing. I was about to throw it away, as we have neither the space nor the use for firewood, and only two trees, neither of which needs removal, but something caught my eye and I paused to skim it.
What I share with you now is copied verbatim from the flyer, punctuation, capitalization, asides, ampersand abuse, and all. I will withhold the proprietor's name and street address, which he provided, because I am not in the business of inciting riot, or at least the egging of people's houses. I hope you enjoy this piece of fine literature as much as I did.
What I share with you now is copied verbatim from the flyer, punctuation, capitalization, asides, ampersand abuse, and all. I will withhold the proprietor's name and street address, which he provided, because I am not in the business of inciting riot, or at least the egging of people's houses. I hope you enjoy this piece of fine literature as much as I did.
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SEASONED FIREWOOD FOR SALE!
I SELL A STACK!
6 Feet wide x 3 Feet high & the average length is 16 inches long.
1 Stack cost $130 but, if you buy 2 stacks or more you take $10 off each stack
or
go for the deal of 5 stacksfor $560
or
for the super deal of 6 stacks for $630.
ALL PRICES INCLUDE DELIVERY & (STACKING-> within reason).
Other people have been selling & giving less wood than this for years for the same price. To be honest a stack measures out to 1/5 of a cord. You can get alot more wood if you buy a cord, but most of the time the wood is big & cut anywhere from 4 inch long chunks to pieces as long as 2 feet (mixed) then delivered & dumped & you have to stack it then clean up the mess & then pray it will burn. So it's your choice let me do the work for you or you can. I lose alot of business (Tree & Wood) by being honest, but I'm not gonna change & hope to work for you.
HERE ARE A FEW THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW
1) I'm Not being racist it's just that although the Spanish men (some Americans too) are willing to work cheap they AREN'T professionals. They help someone for a day or 2 and (SOMEHOW) get 10 to 20 years experience (that's what they tell you) anyway. So many have gotten hurt and some killed (I'm not making this up) following that pattern not to mention damaging your personal property. I'd also like to know how the Spanish and people from other countries can come to our country legal or illegal & can get credit, loans, new trucks,cars & equipment & houses or start a business when legal citizens almost have to get investigated by the FBI just to renew their drivers' licenses & are barely getting by?
2) Don't be taken by a fast smooth talking person with (big new trucks and equipment), they don't need. They're just showing off their (toys) to be envied by other tree people as well as creating (unnecessary) expenses that are passed on to you. (FANCY) doesn't mean professional.
3) Most say safety first then want to work up in a tree in high winds and rain. Then there are those that offer percentage discounts, then raise the estimate up so that when you deduct the percent-age the price comes down to what the original price would have been to start with (Unknown to the customer).
4) Doesn't it seem a little strange if someone tells you to get a couple of (written) estimates before they can give you their price? Is it because maybe they don't know how to price the work (amateurish)?, I think so. Also if someone gives you a ridiculously low price <--(I know that's what you want to hear) but, that should be a clue to something is not right.
5) I OFFER YOU 30 YEARS OF PROFESSIONAL, HARDWORKING EXPERIENCE ALL BACKED BY INTELLIGENCE! WORK INCLUDES TOPPING, TRIMMING, COMPLETE TREE REMOVAL, DEADWOODING, UPLIFTING, TRIMMING, THINNING AND STUMP REMOVAL.
2) Don't be taken by a fast smooth talking person with (big new trucks and equipment), they don't need. They're just showing off their (toys) to be envied by other tree people as well as creating (unnecessary) expenses that are passed on to you. (FANCY) doesn't mean professional.
3) Most say safety first then want to work up in a tree in high winds and rain. Then there are those that offer percentage discounts, then raise the estimate up so that when you deduct the percent-age the price comes down to what the original price would have been to start with (Unknown to the customer).
4) Doesn't it seem a little strange if someone tells you to get a couple of (written) estimates before they can give you their price? Is it because maybe they don't know how to price the work (amateurish)?, I think so. Also if someone gives you a ridiculously low price <--(I know that's what you want to hear) but, that should be a clue to something is not right.
5) I OFFER YOU 30 YEARS OF PROFESSIONAL, HARDWORKING EXPERIENCE ALL BACKED BY INTELLIGENCE! WORK INCLUDES TOPPING, TRIMMING, COMPLETE TREE REMOVAL, DEADWOODING, UPLIFTING, TRIMMING, THINNING AND STUMP REMOVAL.
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Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Backdated Email
I just love it when I'm checking my email inbox and, *SURPRISE!* A new email arrives yesterday.
I check my email just about every day, and anything I don't delete is either read or marked as read. I dutifully checked my email yesterday and marked everything appropriately. So how is it that, while my inbox is open on November 18 and in the midst of perusing my email, a brand new email appears received on November 17? Not showed up when I first opened the inbox, as in it was sent yesterday after I last checked, but showed up after my inbox had been open for a while on the 18th.
Magic.
I check my email just about every day, and anything I don't delete is either read or marked as read. I dutifully checked my email yesterday and marked everything appropriately. So how is it that, while my inbox is open on November 18 and in the midst of perusing my email, a brand new email appears received on November 17? Not showed up when I first opened the inbox, as in it was sent yesterday after I last checked, but showed up after my inbox had been open for a while on the 18th.
Magic.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
R.I.P. Tree
::NOTE:: The furry menace has been vanquished. The full containment traps garnered nothing, but the snap traps caught the culprit on the very first night. This was nearly a month ago, and there has been no mousey trouble since. So far, so good; and we have spare snap traps at the ready in case the situation changes again.
My parents separated 15 years ago this Christmas. The following year, my father bought a 3' tall tabletop tree for his apartment. He soon bought a townhome and furnished it for the holidays with a normal-sized tree, and bequeathed the 3' tree to me for use in my apartment and thenceforth.
In 2003, I moved in with Husband. The arrangement of our furniture in the living room pretty much prevented getting a real (or real-sized) tree, so we put my tabletop tree on top of the L-shaped entertainment center. It wasn't elegant, but it sufficed, and there was some rednecky charm to my stumpy fake tree balanced precariously on top of the DVD player.
Last year, even as I put it back up, I acknowledged that my little tree was not long for this world. The needles were falling out, one of the feet wouldn't slide properly into the base, and the branches were getting a bit wonky from the years of folding and unfolding.
This year, the sales were too good to ignore. I bit the bullet and bought a 6' pre-lighted tree. We'll have to rearrange the couches, but it'll only be for a month, which I think we can handle. Besides, with the advent of the new TV and thus the new entertainment center, there was no place to put Stump but on the floor, which I'm sure Pocket would love, but it would not bode well for our ornaments and such.
My tabletop tree gave 14 holidays of good service, but as all things must come to an end, so did the little tree go to the curb this morning.
Rest in peace, little tree. Deep in my heart, I'll probably miss you.
My parents separated 15 years ago this Christmas. The following year, my father bought a 3' tall tabletop tree for his apartment. He soon bought a townhome and furnished it for the holidays with a normal-sized tree, and bequeathed the 3' tree to me for use in my apartment and thenceforth.In 2003, I moved in with Husband. The arrangement of our furniture in the living room pretty much prevented getting a real (or real-sized) tree, so we put my tabletop tree on top of the L-shaped entertainment center. It wasn't elegant, but it sufficed, and there was some rednecky charm to my stumpy fake tree balanced precariously on top of the DVD player.
Last year, even as I put it back up, I acknowledged that my little tree was not long for this world. The needles were falling out, one of the feet wouldn't slide properly into the base, and the branches were getting a bit wonky from the years of folding and unfolding.
This year, the sales were too good to ignore. I bit the bullet and bought a 6' pre-lighted tree. We'll have to rearrange the couches, but it'll only be for a month, which I think we can handle. Besides, with the advent of the new TV and thus the new entertainment center, there was no place to put Stump but on the floor, which I'm sure Pocket would love, but it would not bode well for our ornaments and such.
My tabletop tree gave 14 holidays of good service, but as all things must come to an end, so did the little tree go to the curb this morning.
Rest in peace, little tree. Deep in my heart, I'll probably miss you.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Mouse in My House
Last Tuesday, I was quietly working from home under a metric ton of pressure, when I discovered we had an unwelcome new resident. In my peripheral vision, I saw a flash of black, and then it was gone. Another flash, and it was gone again. I leaned forward, staring at the edge of the stairs where the flash had come from. THERE IT WAS AGAIN - and it stopped in front of the riser... in the form of a rodent. There was a mouse in my house.
Our neighbors just discovered they had mice, so there was precedent; we're reasonably sure they're coming from the vacant house two down. And, having spent a fair part of my after-school hours working in food service, I can recognize a mouse when I see it. But since we saw neither hide nor hair of the vermin for the rest of the week, I was sincerely beginning to think I had hallucinated. I was wearing my glasses at the time, which leave peripheral vision almost entirely uncorrected, so it wasn't a far leap to think that maybe I'd only imagined it.
On Saturday morning, however, we found incontestible proof of its presence: mouse poop on the stack of cutting boards, which precipitated a frenzy of cutting board and counter washing and disinfecting. The boards are now stored vertically in the drip rack, thereby taking up most of the useable drip rack space, but at least I won't find those little presents on my food preparation materials again. We'll be going through the house this week to seal up all possible openings in the drywall, which is how we think they got in.
I remember several years ago when DC101 DJ Elliot talked about discovering his house had mice. He said his house felt dirty and that he was obsessed with getting rid of them. I remember thinking that he was a wuss, that it was just mice for goodness sake. But now, I know. Now my house feels dirty. Now I'm obsessed with getting rid of them. It's not just their nasty little mouse poops, but they could bring in fleas, and they multiply quickly, and I do not need an infestation nor can I afford the Orkin man.
When Pocket was very small, she singlehandedly rid our basement of the camel cricket menace, for which I am forever grateful. She has never since been so thorough, perhaps because she thinks she's done her part and that our job going forward is to lavish praise and attention upon her for it. So we have no hope of Pocket actually earning her keep by cleansing the house of the rodents as well. But she was behaving distinctly like a cat again last night, staring fixedly at the space under the stove and occasionally chancing a paw under it to see if she could draw out the strange new toy.
We set a couple of full containment mouse traps under the sink where they have clearly been, and next to the stove. Snap traps would most likely catch my toes, or Pocket's tongue if she went for the peanut butter, plus I'd have to make Husband deal with the corpse on the offchance the trap caught its intended target; and glue boards are inhumane as far as I'm concerned (see above re: food service). Full containment traps are ridiculously sensitive to vibration and are therefore a disaster to set (I think I've got the hang of it now), but they promise an instant kill, no body to handle, and no danger to people or pets. So far also, no luck.
Our neighbors just discovered they had mice, so there was precedent; we're reasonably sure they're coming from the vacant house two down. And, having spent a fair part of my after-school hours working in food service, I can recognize a mouse when I see it. But since we saw neither hide nor hair of the vermin for the rest of the week, I was sincerely beginning to think I had hallucinated. I was wearing my glasses at the time, which leave peripheral vision almost entirely uncorrected, so it wasn't a far leap to think that maybe I'd only imagined it.
On Saturday morning, however, we found incontestible proof of its presence: mouse poop on the stack of cutting boards, which precipitated a frenzy of cutting board and counter washing and disinfecting. The boards are now stored vertically in the drip rack, thereby taking up most of the useable drip rack space, but at least I won't find those little presents on my food preparation materials again. We'll be going through the house this week to seal up all possible openings in the drywall, which is how we think they got in.
I remember several years ago when DC101 DJ Elliot talked about discovering his house had mice. He said his house felt dirty and that he was obsessed with getting rid of them. I remember thinking that he was a wuss, that it was just mice for goodness sake. But now, I know. Now my house feels dirty. Now I'm obsessed with getting rid of them. It's not just their nasty little mouse poops, but they could bring in fleas, and they multiply quickly, and I do not need an infestation nor can I afford the Orkin man.
When Pocket was very small, she singlehandedly rid our basement of the camel cricket menace, for which I am forever grateful. She has never since been so thorough, perhaps because she thinks she's done her part and that our job going forward is to lavish praise and attention upon her for it. So we have no hope of Pocket actually earning her keep by cleansing the house of the rodents as well. But she was behaving distinctly like a cat again last night, staring fixedly at the space under the stove and occasionally chancing a paw under it to see if she could draw out the strange new toy.
We set a couple of full containment mouse traps under the sink where they have clearly been, and next to the stove. Snap traps would most likely catch my toes, or Pocket's tongue if she went for the peanut butter, plus I'd have to make Husband deal with the corpse on the offchance the trap caught its intended target; and glue boards are inhumane as far as I'm concerned (see above re: food service). Full containment traps are ridiculously sensitive to vibration and are therefore a disaster to set (I think I've got the hang of it now), but they promise an instant kill, no body to handle, and no danger to people or pets. So far also, no luck.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Open Letter to My Colleague
Dear Colleague:
Do not send me QC requests full of excuses as to your late submittal. I don't care when you were TRYING to get it to me. When you were TRYING to get it to me is completely immaterial to the fact that you DIDN'T get it to me until today. Your failed efforts do nothing to soften the point that you've given me exactly one business day to turn 79 pages of hot mess into something we might not be embarrassed to hand to the people who are indirectly paying our salaries.
I can only work so many miracles in a week. How about you build time into your schedule so that your drop-dead due date allows me a sufficient time to actually review the document? I would further recommend allowing enough time following my review for you to go through my changes to ensure that they were contextually appropriate and to ask any questions you may have, rather than clamping your eyes shut, crossing your fingers, and accepting all changes. Just a thought in the name of client service.
Furthermore, don't wave something off, saying it "shouldn't require substantial attention" because maybe it does! (In fact, it did. If I hadn't refreshed the table of contents and noticed the hell that rained down, you would have been completely hosed when you did it.) If you were in a position to determine whether a segment of a document required substantial QC attention, then I would not be employed here. Clearly, Company has determined that you are incapable of appropriately gauging the extent of the havoc you have wreaked upon this document, so maybe you should trust me to do my job.
Also, when drawing conclusions and making recommendations, I might suggest something with a little more punch than: "It is recommended that [client] focus on decreasing the loss of [personal data] and the number of significant incidents." Way to go out on a limb there, guys. With that kind of derring-do, you could conjecture that the police want the number of murders and thefts to go down this year.
Lastly, please be sure you get the client's name correct in the documents you are writing FOR them. They're a little tetchy about that.
Frustratedly yours,
Rosie
Do not send me QC requests full of excuses as to your late submittal. I don't care when you were TRYING to get it to me. When you were TRYING to get it to me is completely immaterial to the fact that you DIDN'T get it to me until today. Your failed efforts do nothing to soften the point that you've given me exactly one business day to turn 79 pages of hot mess into something we might not be embarrassed to hand to the people who are indirectly paying our salaries.
I can only work so many miracles in a week. How about you build time into your schedule so that your drop-dead due date allows me a sufficient time to actually review the document? I would further recommend allowing enough time following my review for you to go through my changes to ensure that they were contextually appropriate and to ask any questions you may have, rather than clamping your eyes shut, crossing your fingers, and accepting all changes. Just a thought in the name of client service.
Furthermore, don't wave something off, saying it "shouldn't require substantial attention" because maybe it does! (In fact, it did. If I hadn't refreshed the table of contents and noticed the hell that rained down, you would have been completely hosed when you did it.) If you were in a position to determine whether a segment of a document required substantial QC attention, then I would not be employed here. Clearly, Company has determined that you are incapable of appropriately gauging the extent of the havoc you have wreaked upon this document, so maybe you should trust me to do my job.
Also, when drawing conclusions and making recommendations, I might suggest something with a little more punch than: "It is recommended that [client] focus on decreasing the loss of [personal data] and the number of significant incidents." Way to go out on a limb there, guys. With that kind of derring-do, you could conjecture that the police want the number of murders and thefts to go down this year.
Lastly, please be sure you get the client's name correct in the documents you are writing FOR them. They're a little tetchy about that.
Frustratedly yours,
Rosie
Monday, September 28, 2009
Vanity Plates
I am unfailingly pleased to have been born and raised in the Great Commonwealth of Virginia, where we have endless sources of interest and amusement. There are the Shenandoah mountains to the west, the coastline and the Chesapeake to the east, the best wine country this side of the Mississippi (this side of the Atlantic as far as I'm concerned, but let's not ruffle too many feathers), and the greatest quantity of vanity plates in the entire nation. We may have rotten traffic, we may have questionable logic in our road system, but we will entertain you on your way as you try to make sense of our license plates.
I've been playing license plate games since my childhood on my family's frequent trips down I-95. There have been some clever ones (I once knew someone whose plate read "SDRWKCB;" another local, "SEDAGIV," never fails to make me and every other true Mel Brooks fan smile). There have been some groaners (former co-worker Troy and I agreed that initials were the worst because you spent all your time trying to decipher the garble only to realize that these people just took the term "vanity" plate to heart).
And then there are the stunners: the ones that leave you dumbstruck all the way to your destination because you have trouble making sense of a world in which someone would care so deeply about this message that they would shell out another $20 or so just to shout it to the general populace.
I recall my first stunner as one witnessed in 2001 during my drive home on Route 7: "ISCRAPBK." This person clearly felt that scrapbooking was an enormous part of their identity and that everyone must know it.
The second stunner outdid ISCRPBK in terms of pathetic identity bases, and was observed on I-95 just outside of Richmond on my way to visit my grandmother in 2005: "ISTENCL." Really? You needed me to know that? You needed me to know that you apply paint to walls or canvases in pre-determined layers and spacing based on someone else's artistic talent?
But today, ladies and germs, we have a new champion. Today, one plate stood out to me as I wormed my way through rush hour traffic. Today, this specimen wrested the title of Lamest Vanity Plate away from ISTENCL, which as I'm sure you'll all agree was quite a feat.
This morning, on I-66 East, just past the merge ramp from Route 28, was "SENSUAL." No interpretation necessary. Sensual. Wow.
I've been playing license plate games since my childhood on my family's frequent trips down I-95. There have been some clever ones (I once knew someone whose plate read "SDRWKCB;" another local, "SEDAGIV," never fails to make me and every other true Mel Brooks fan smile). There have been some groaners (former co-worker Troy and I agreed that initials were the worst because you spent all your time trying to decipher the garble only to realize that these people just took the term "vanity" plate to heart).
And then there are the stunners: the ones that leave you dumbstruck all the way to your destination because you have trouble making sense of a world in which someone would care so deeply about this message that they would shell out another $20 or so just to shout it to the general populace.
I recall my first stunner as one witnessed in 2001 during my drive home on Route 7: "ISCRAPBK." This person clearly felt that scrapbooking was an enormous part of their identity and that everyone must know it.
The second stunner outdid ISCRPBK in terms of pathetic identity bases, and was observed on I-95 just outside of Richmond on my way to visit my grandmother in 2005: "ISTENCL." Really? You needed me to know that? You needed me to know that you apply paint to walls or canvases in pre-determined layers and spacing based on someone else's artistic talent?
But today, ladies and germs, we have a new champion. Today, one plate stood out to me as I wormed my way through rush hour traffic. Today, this specimen wrested the title of Lamest Vanity Plate away from ISTENCL, which as I'm sure you'll all agree was quite a feat.
This morning, on I-66 East, just past the merge ramp from Route 28, was "SENSUAL." No interpretation necessary. Sensual. Wow.
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