Lost and found

The odd thing about the fire that destroyed my home and all my possessions one year ago today is that when I remember it, I see myself in the third person.

I'm wearing my big navy blue stretch-waist shorts and my oversized, scrubs-channeling light blue shirt, and I'm very annoyed that a loud bang has awakened me from my two or so hours of sleep. It's the weekend, so I don't have anywhere to be in the morning, but I've always been fond of sleeping and disliked having it interrupted.

So I storm out of the first bedroom Sean and I shared as husband and wife, round the corner to the left and head towards the living room. The noise sounded like it came from outside; I'm assuming for some sleep-addled reason that the air conditioner exploded, and I'm headed for the deck to take a look at it.

Except when I get beyond the entrance hall, I see that the deck is ablaze. And more than that, I see that the flames are licking their way in through an apparently nonexistent deck door.

I've thought back to what I did next a million times. A million times I've asked myself why I didn't quickly run to the office and try to grab my purse, camera, and maybe even my computer, which contained nearly all of my memories--or why I didn't grab my beautiful tea set that I got at Hirashimizu Pottery near Yamagata, since it was right there on the table, or why I didn't at least pull the scroll with my host sister's beautiful, award-winning calligraphy--a Chinese poem about spring--off the dining room wall, because that is irreplaceable.

And then I think why, when I ran back to the bedroom shouting at Sean to get his phone and get out of the apartment, didn't I think to get some clothes from the closet. At least some shoes. A bra would have been nice, so the next day when we woke up at Sean's parents' house and realized we had nothing, I could have at least gone out and gotten us something else to wear, rather than sending his parents on that errand.

But danger does strange things to a person. I didn't think to grab any of that--or my personal documents, my photos, my yearbooks, my scrapbooks, my diaries. And Sean took me literally when I said "Grab your phone"--he left his sunglasses, wallet, wedding ring, pocket knife, and high school class ring all sitting on the battered nightstand that used to be my TV table back in Kentucky.

He did, however, have the presence of mind to pull the fire alarm and to think about putting the fire out. And so while I was concentrating on getting out, he was searching for a hose and finding a fire extinguisher. I didn't know this, so when I was two flights down and he wasn't with me and I turned back to see him heading back into the now smoke-filled apartment, I screamed at him, "Get out of there! Get out of there!"

Seeing that there was nothing he could do with all that smoke, he got out of there.

Barefoot, we stood out front, unable to see anything. A few neighbors had gathered, and a fire truck came. Sean left the fire extinguisher next to the fire hydrant and we walked around the building to see what it looked like from the back. We called our parents on our soon-to-be-useless-without-battery-chargers cell phones while we watched our home be decimated by flames.

It was horribly beautiful...and there was the sweet smell of burning wood, which to this day makes me paranoid, takes me back to standing on the other side of the pond and watching my deck collapse onto the decks below it. The fire moved so fast, gutting the living room, eating the roof, and it was then that I first realized that I might have had time to save something. The grass beneath my feet was a cold reminder of my lack of foresight.

Honeymoon pictures, gone. Any photos not on smugmug, gone. All my writing, gone. My thousand-dollar Star Wars collection, gone. All my sweet little souvenirs from Japan, gone. My books--all my books!--gone.

The first shirt I ever bought for Sean, gone. My wedding dress, gone. My childhood dresser, gone. Grandma's hope chest, gone. My crocheted afghan from Aunt Sally, gone. My beautiful dining room set from Aunt Bev, gone. The Kitchenaid mixer I'd used throughout my teen years, gone. The old mixing bowl from the mixer I'd used through my childhood, gone.

Mom's beautiful wrought-iron cookbook stand, gone. My huge collection of dishes, gone. The first and only TV I'd ever owned, that Dad had bought me as a surprise one summer, gone. The only copies of film photos from high school, gone. My first matching comforter, pillow sham, and window valance from my childhood bedroom, gone.

Sean's saxophone, gone. His vintage Nintendo, in pristine condition, gone. His rare artbooks, which we may never find again, gone. Our limited-edition collector's sets--two of them!--of Macross, gone. The handsome metal briefcase of tools his parents had given him one Christmas, gone. His expensive model kits, which had never even been assembled, gone.

My records from the hospital, and the cute little bean bag doggie Pat and Wolf gave me to cheer me up while I was there, gone. My first porcelain unicorn, which spawned a massive collection during my preteen years, gone.

The seashells my mom's best friend collected on various beaches, gone. I always admired how she loved culture and travel, and after she passed away I ended up not only with those shells, but with some paintings she'd collected. Gone.

The laptop I'd taken to Japan twice, which still held on its hard drive a reaction essay Sean had never posted anywhere, gone. The video I'd made of myself and my family and never sent to my first best friend Noelle, gone. My collection of fortune cookie fortunes, gone. The book of high school memories I'd painstakingly assembled, gone.

Mom's old breadbox, gone. My childhood desk, gone. All the silly hats I wore when I was bald, gone. The faux-Tiffany lamp Ben gave me, gone. The beautiful living room furniture from Sean's Mema, gone. The little glass box with the silk flower in it that I'd admired as a child and which Grandma had given to me when I moved to Georgia, gone.

My tins of expensive green tea, gone. My hatbox full of letters and cards and notes passed in class, dating back to middle school, gone. Our marriage license, gone. The goblets we used at our wedding reception, gone. The cute picture frame given to us by the nice people at Augusta Golf and Gardens, where we got married, gone.

Our first home, gone.

It still hurts. It hurts to lose those reminders of happy memories, those fragments of the lives we've led. Human memory is fragile and fallible. I used to go through my old diaries and videos and learn things I'd already forgotten about myself. I won't have that opportunity ever again.

And yet, things have changed so much in just one year. I've found work that is fulfilling on so many levels it's astounding. Through careful saving and the amazing generosity of our loved ones, we've made a new home for ourselves. Now we're surrounded by things that remind us just how lucky we are.

We've had other hardships. Sean was in a car accident that totalled his Corolla, and my car's brakes went completely out on me while I was driving home one evening. But Sean got a nice, newer car and I'm on the road to getting a brand new one, and in the meantime my brakes have been fixed and are working beautifully. And Sean's contract at work is up, so now he has to find something else...but we're viewing this as an opportunity for him to find something great.

Despite everything that's happened to us in the past year, I still believe we're lucky. We're lucky first of all to have been born in a country where we can live how we choose and make our own way and be confident that we'll have luxuries like electricity and running water. Where two people can afford to own two cars. Where there are so many things to see and do and learn, and if a door closes, there are open windows all over the place. If you have to go through hardship, I recommend doing it in America.

And we're so lucky to have so many people who love us. It has been amazing this year to be the recipients of so much kindness. It's wonderful to feel so connected to people, near and far, and to know that the idea of community, of family, hasn't died, despite of the isolated lives we lead.

There will be more suffering. I don't know what's going to happen in the future, but pain is a guarantee.

But so is love, and happiness, and kindness, and truth, and opportunity, and adventure.

I'm excited to see what's next.

Comair flight 5191

A plane crashed after takeoff from Blue Grass Airport on Sunday morning. It was on its way from Lexington to Atlanta. 49 of the people aboard were killed; the survivor, the co-pilot, is in critical condition.

News outlets in Lexington and Augusta are covering the tragedy:

Lexington Herald-Leader

KY Kernel (University of Kentucky)

The Kernel has a really good photo slideshow (and you'll notice that Eric Thigpen took one of the pictures).

WKYT 27 Newsfirst (Lexington)

LEX 18 (Lexington)

WTVQ 36 Action News (Lexington)

WJBF (Augusta)

NBC 26 News (Augusta)

The Augusta Chronicle has the Associated Press report.

Victims include a former UK baseball player and his new bride, a Habitat for Humanity official, and a UK agriculture extension dean. According to Mainichi, two Japanese people also died in the crash.

Most of the people on board were heading to Atlanta for connecting flights.

Officials are still investigating why the plane took off from the wrong runway.

My other dream

Last night I also dreamed about a website we were building at work for fun. It was a way to rank the "kissability" of everyone who worked there. Brooke and Mari worked there in my dream, and all three of us had pictures up (I think we were all wearing workout clothes in the photos, oddly). We were all very excited about the site, but I was adamant that we needed a disclaimer about sexual harassment and a splash page where people would have to agree not to abuse the contents before they could get in and see the photos. I think people were annoyed with me about that, but I didn't want the site to jeopardize any of our jobs.

David (yes, Brooke's David) and Arturo from work were there. David said, "We should also get everyone's phone numbers and addresses."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, you know..." David said, grinning, and Arturo nodded emphatically.

"No, no, no! This is not a dating service," I said, and added in my mind, nor it is a stalking service.

Smallville would make a great anime

Or at least, that was my thought as I woke up this morning.

I had dreamed a Smallville anime episode in which the cast was on vacation in Hawaii (I don't know) and Jor-El caused some crazy shit to go down in order to train Clark to come back to Krypton (wait, Krypton still exists, subconscious mind?) to stop some evil going on there.

One of the crazy things was causing a blonde female cast member (yet not Chloe; I don't know who it was) to grow into a giant. Everyone was cavorting merrily on the beach when suddenly they spotted her approaching from an island out in the sea. And did I mention she went a little nuts? So she was on a rampage, and Clark had to stop her.

Throughout the episode Jor-El kept speaking to Clark telepathically, saying things like "You must return to your homeworld, Kal-El, and this will prepare you."

I don't really remember how things turned out. I'm not sure I even dreamed that part.

My husband is awesome

When I told Robert how I was suckered out of $50, he said, "We've all been duped once." Later, he added, "Don't tell Sean!"

Robert doesn't really know Sean, so I explained, "All he'll do is shake his head at me."

We were both wrong.

When I got home and related the story, Sean just said, "Okay," and, when I continued to lament, "I wouldn't worry about it."

"It's such a bad thing to do," I said.

"She played with your emotions," he agreed.

After that I just held him for awhile, absorbing strength from his patience, pragmatism, and understanding.

I am so stupid

As I was heading back to my car from the salon today, a woman approached me on the street.

"Are you from here?" she asked.

"Sort of," I said, coming to a stop next to her on the sidewalk.

"I need some directions, or--I'm trying to get back to Columbia, South Carolina, and I'm pregnant with twins..."

It was a jumble, but eventually I learned that her daughter, who has cystic fibrosis, was in a coma at MCG, and the woman had a check from the estate of a relative who'd just passed away, but the banks here wouldn't cash it, so she had no money and needed to get back to her local branch to cash the check. And since she was pregnant and it was hot, she needed a lift back to her car. Her husband was in Iraq and didn't even know he was having twins.

So I took her in the car and drove to the bank and withdrew $40 (I suggested $20, but she said it would take $40) and gave it to her along with my business card with my cell number written on the back. "Thank you so much. You'll be in my prayers. I'll come back and bring you $50," she said. But I told her she didn't have to pay me any extra.

As I was driving her to her car, near the 401 end of Walton Way, she had me do a U-turn to pass in front of a shop on Broad Street to see if her father's car was there. He apparently owned it and also worked in the press room at the Augusta Chronicle. But his car wasn't there. "That's who I was looking for before," she said, "but my stepmom changed the phone number so I can't get in touch with them."

We went on, and she started talking about how she felt tired and it was probably because she hadn't had anything to eat all day. I had started to feel pretty stupid just based on how hard she was working to make her case, but this almost put me over the edge. I felt like I was being taken for a ride. And the thought that someone would lie about something like their daughter being in a coma just so they could swindle $40 off someone was so upsetting, I had to struggle not to start crying.

She was apparently fighting back tears too, as she remarked that her children hadn't had anything to eat all day either. The hints weren't all that subtle. I wouldn't give her any more money, I decided. $40 was plenty. She surely didn't need that much to drive to Columbia, anyway.

"Do you mind if we just pull into the Wendy's and get them some chicken nuggets or something?" she said.

I was quiet for a moment. "Won't that cut into your gas money?" I said.

"Well--well, it would..." she stammered. "Could you just charge it, and I'll bring you back $50?"

I really, really wanted to say no. But what kind of person can let children go hungry? So I went to Wendy's and got them two 10 piece chicken nugget combos.

Finally we arrived at a part of town where I really didn't feel comfortable. "This is where you need to be?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "my nephews." She started getting out of the car.

"Good luck," I said, and patted her arm. "Have a safe drive."

"Thank you. I'll call you. Answer your phone!"

"I will."

Then, driving off, I burst into tears.

By the way, I have a new laptop

Isn't it pretty?

(I should clean my desk sometime...)

I need to do something before I become Jabba the Hutt.

I was doing fairly well with my eating yesterday until I decided to eat a bowl of ice cream.

Still, I seem to have come in under my calorie limit for the day.

This morning I finished reading a four-part article about fighting obesity, and it had some really good information.

Some people don't have to live the same battle of the bulge as you do. They are either genetically lucky or have adopted healthy habits that make living lean easy. If they overeat, they exercise enough that they suffer no weight gain. If they get by with minimal amounts of exercise, it's because they've accrued a life of activity that allows them to cut back yet maintain their fitness.

You may not have this luxury. At least not right now. You may have to do more, work harder and be more patient than other people. Life is not always fair. But it's better to know where you stand so that you realize what you need to do, rather than fool yourself into thinking that you'll see results from minimal or short-lived efforts.

The article also provided some straightforward reminders that if I don't get off my ass, I'm going to stop being able to do things, and I'll die earlier.

Every day that you sit more than you move is another day that you allow your healthy body to deteriorate. If you can no longer tie your shoes, if you avoid getting on the floor because it is too difficult to get back up, or if doing something simple like grocery shopping tires you out, then you have reached a point where you are losing natural functions. It will only get worse.

I'm not there yet, but I'm on that road. The article mentions that people in their teens, 20s, and 30s aren't very forward-thinking and therefore fall into the obesity rut very easily, and I'm a living testament to that.

The article moves on to present guidelines on what to do to get out of that rut. One of the tips that is sticking with me is the idea of eating as many fruits and vegetables as possible. I know I've heard this before, but somehow it seems like a dramatic revelation. Maybe even though I knew it intuitively, I never had any real facts to back it up. Such as:

Never limit your vegetables. Veggies have so few calories and are so ripe in nutrients and fiber that you should eat them at every meal, every day. Picture this: three giant dinner plates filled with 1 cup of broccoli, 1 cup of cauliflower, 1 cup of baby carrots, 1 cup of yellow squash, 1 cup of cucumbers, 1 cup of spinach, 1 cup of red peppers, 1 cup of tomatoes and one portobello mushroom ...this heaping slab of vegetables has about 200 calories! Yet you could probably not eat all of it at one sitting--you'd be too full.

But you could easily drink one super-sized soda and take in almost three times as many calories, or eat a small cheeseburger and take in 400 calories. Add fries and a shake and you'd eat about five times as many calories as you'd get from that veggie smorgasbord. Get the picture? If you need to feel full when you eat, the key is to fill up with good stuff.

Another interesting tip was "munch on nuts every day".

It was very sobering to read the exercise tips for the severely obese. Take this, for example:

Exercise in bed. Lie on your bed and move your arms and legs as if you were swimming. Lifting them one at a time is less stressful than lifting two arms or two legs at a time. Keep the movement smooth and continuous, starting with two minutes of moving and adding 30 seconds per day. If you need to rest, that's OK. Move for one minute, then relax for one to two, and repeat.

Just...holy crap. That could be me someday, finding it tiring just to move my arm around.

I have got to make sure that doesn't happen.

One big message from the article that I think is something I need to absorb so I don't fall off the wagon yet again is the fact that true weight loss can only be done gradually. I can't adopt a radical lifestyle change and expect that to work. In fact:

Your first instinct may be to take an all-or-nothing approach. You'll block out temptation by being strict about exercising and following a very specific food plan. But I can promise you, you won't have long-term success that way. Instead, you should take it slower and smarter. You will need to make subtle changes in your life rather than drastic, temporary ones. This may feel more frustrating, as you teeter on the edge of discomfort long past the point where you feel motivated to make a change. But you'll need to keep making better food choices and prodding yourself to move more when you don’t feel like it. This is where the mental hurdles start.

The good news is that once you've converted to a lean life, it does become easy. But in the beginning, especially after your first few weeks or months of feeling motivated, it will feel like a struggle, and you will have to push through that rough spot to succeed.

But the biggest point of all in the article was move more. Start small, but build up. Add one minute a week to whatever exercise I end up doing.

I've been going to the Y during lunch and doing the elliptical for 25 minutes (I actually worked up from 5 minutes) but I haven't been going every day, and the rest of my day is very sedentary. I need to find more ways to add activity to my life.

Like right now--I happen to be up early, but all I'm doing with my extra time is goofing off on the computer, when I could be walking or riding my bike, or, since it looks like it's been raining, working out at the big Y down the street.

I still have time. I'm going to go.

Consumer Reports confirms what I've known for years

OMG, check this out (emphasis mine):

Avoid hard acceleration and braking whenever possible. In our tests, frequent bursts of acceleration and braking reduced the Camry's mileage by 2 to 3 mpg and the Mountaineer's by about 1 mpg. The harder you accelerate, the more fuel you use. Unnecessarily hard braking wastes the fuel you use to get up to speed. Drive smoothly and anticipate the movement of traffic. Use your brakes as little as possible, since every time you hit the brakes you are wasting fuel. Once up to speed on the highway, maintain a steady pace in top gear. Smooth acceleration, cornering, and braking not only save fuel but also extend the life of the engine, transmission, brakes, and tires.

I have said that so many times. Brooke knows!

Sean, use your majutsu!

Last night I dreamed that Sean was in a bitter rivalry with Gunner from Zap!. It turned out that Sean had to defeat him in baseball, but he was busy with something else first and couldn't make it to the other field right away. People kept jeering and it sounded like Gunner was winning.

Finally Sean and Koutarou from Touch were able to head over there. They ran into the first-years from Prince of Tennis on their way, who as usual were full of running commentary...this time about how Gunner had thrown 104 strikes.

When we got there, there was no one in the field but Gunner on the pitcher's mound. He kept throwing these crazy-fast pitches and striking out people on our team.

Sean went up to bat, and by this time he very much resembled Tatsuya (what a shocker). He swung three times and missed, and then it was his turn to pitch.

He was of course a fabulous pitcher, but when the ball closed to about ten feet from Gunner it suddenly slowed and dropped to the ground, bouncing like a tennis ball. It happened every time he pitched.

After ball four they switched places again. This time Sean really looked like Tatsuya as he flailed his bat around crazily and almost fell over. But he still struck out.

As he was preparing to pitch again, I told him, "Sean, use your majutsu. Protect the ball so he can't make it fall." He nodded, and the ball was suddenly surrounded by this pale blue aura. It started bouncing up and down next to him, faster and faster, and I knew he was concentrating on surrounding it with magic.

That time, he struck Gunner out. Only 106 more strikeouts to go!

My new desktop wallpaper

And of course, I changed the theme to match.

That font is called Anime Ace, and I used it just 'cause.

I'm so happy.

Soooooooooooooooooo cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!

But before I get into this, a moment of silence for today's casualties:

Okay. Now.

YARIS!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am now absolutely, 100% sold on this car. Oh my god it's so cute. It handles beautifully, and the visibility is better than the Yaris sedan--that's as I expected, but you never really know until you try.

So how did I end up driving this beautiful machine in the middle of the afternoon?

My cell phone rang as I was working to format the five o'clock stories for the website. I hit "Ignore", and whoever it was left voicemail. Five minutes later, the phone rang again.

It was a Georgia number, but no one in my address book. But apparently it was urgent, so I answered it.

"Hi, this is Lorenzo with Toyota of Augusta."

He gave me the amazing news: a red Yaris liftback had just been delivered.

"Oh, man!" I said, staring at the clock. "Do you think it'll still be there in two hours?"

He laughed in that way that says yeah, whatever and I spoke again. "Okay, I'm going to see if I can come down there right now."

I went to my boss's office during weather. "Hi. I have a completely selfish request that you can absolutely say no to."

"Wow. What is it?"

"Well, there's this car I want to buy, and it's kind of rare because it's just now coming out--"

My boss said something like "cut to the chase", except it wasn't in a mean way, it was in a "you're babbling, but I'll hear you out if you can wrap it up" way. "So what's the request?"

"I want to go see this car right now."

"Go," she said immediately.

"Really?"

"Yeah! Go! And--what kind of car is this?"

I told her briefly that it is the cutest hatchback in the whole wide world, then, smiling fit to burst, I sprinted out of her office. "Thank you!"

The trip didn't take long--I-20 to Washington Road--and then I was pulling up the long driveway. I saw it immediately, sitting out in front of the building next to a white Yaris sedan.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, and tried to control my impatience as I pulled to the right and searched for a parking space. Then I was almost jogging back to where the liftback sat, egglike, waiting for me.

I circled it twice. "It's so cute!"

Lorenzo appeared. "Let me pull it out. Because you want to drive it, right?"

"Oh yeah!"

He eased the tiny car off the sidewalk and into the parking lot, then ushered me in.

The layout inside was very similar to that of the sedan:

My left pointer fingernail bent and split down the middle as I tugged the door shut, but I didn't particularly care.

I headed out of the dealership and down to Fury's Ferry Road, hanging a right and then right again onto River Watch. The steering was very tight, and the car handled extremely well. The acceleration wasn't very dramatic, which is good--I don't want a car that makes me want to drive fast.

We got stuck behind a train on River Watch, so I took the opportunity to check out all the bells and whistles on the dash. The car didn't have power anything, not even power side mirrors, but it did have reading lights as well as a basic interior light. The dash controls were the same as those of the sedan, and I must say the air conditioning felt very good on my sandaled feet.

Lorenzo showed me the auxiliary jack where I could plug in an mp3 player. I'm not entirely sure how that works--it looks like a standard audio jack, so I guess I will just need a connection cord, which I'll plug into the headphones jack on the cheapo GPX I got from woot.com.

All during the drive I couldn't stop talking about how awesome the car was, and when I happened to see the front end reflected in the paint job of a Volkswagen, I squealed, "Wow, it's so cute!" When we got back to the dealership, I took pictures.

Then I shook Lorenzo's hand. "Thank you so much for calling me! I'm going to come back and buy one from you," I told him. I think he was disappointed that I didn't want to buy that one, but I will remember his name, and I will order my Yaris through him. After all, of all the guys I've spoken with at Toyota of Augusta, he's the only one who called me about the liftback (and he called twice, even).

Yaris, I think I love you.

As expected, as soon as I posted about my long fingernails, I broke one.

...but that's okay, because I broke it getting into a 2007 Yaris liftback!!!!!!!

More to come.

A dearth of photography

Putting the pictures together for my last post made me realize that I haven't taken many pictures this month. On the 12th, when I was headed home from my occasional part-time job, I took some pictures of a crazy moth that had latched itself onto Sean's car (it managed to hold on for quite a bit of the drive home, too)

but those and the fingernail pictures are all. For the entire month of August!

Part of it is simply that I have been so busy. I often don't take a lunch break, and when I do I tend to just go out to eat. I haven't been good about packing lunches. I had been going to the gym during lunch, too, and that's also fallen by the wayside. Gearing the website up for the fall season is taking a lot out of me.

It's a good thing it's fun :) I just hope I get everything done in time.

When I leave work, either it's already dark, or I just want to come right home and relax, so I haven't been going anywhere after work either. Tonight I did go somewhere--Rhinehart's, with Brooke and David--but I didn't even think to take pictures. I guess I'm out of the habit.

To compound the issue, my weekends have been spent largely indoors, for whatever reason.

Obviously this is a situation that must be rectified. I will see what I can do tomorrow and this weekend about a photo trip.

This is a post about fingernails.

Dariush told me to blog about my fingernails, because I remarked to him that they are quite long. (His actual reason is that he is frightened of Giger Baby and would like him/her/it pushed off the homepage.)

So. My fingernails? Pretty long.

Normally by this point at least one of my nails would have cracked--most likely the left pointer nail, which has been damaged since the late 90s--and I would have clipped them all down. But as you can see, they've grown well past my fingertips and show no sign of stopping.

It's affected my typing, and not in a good way. I keep missing the keys I want, or adding letters I certainly didn't mean to. My typing is also slower than it once was, which has adversely affected my ego. After all, if you've been clocked at 115 wpm, you don't want people seeing you typing 80, do you?

But for some reason, I can't bring myself to chop them off. I'm so proud of them. I've even filed them carefully to maintain their shape and used nail polish--nail polish!--to keep them strong. It's the longest I've ever maintained long nails.

The aforementioned damaged nail does give me fits, however. It's warped. It grows out and down. It looks stupid.

Fortunately, you can't really tell from the top, but check out this frontal shot:

The middle fingernail has curving tendencies, but it's reasonably similar to the other, normal nails. (And hell, the middle fingernail on my right hand looks exactly the same.)

It's that mutant pointer nail that's out of whack. Deviant. Unforgiveable.

It also bothers me that I'm not particularly adept with nail polish. This is because I have put it on oh, approximately five times in my life, and three of those times were in honor of this recent long-nail phenomenon.

This all really started with my toenails, which started when I got my new job. You see, the women at work are typically well-dressed and well-groomed. They are always wearing new shoes, which are always commented on. Things like nails are afterthoughts; they come naturally.

I noticed that my toenails looked pretty scummy without polish on them whenever I'd wear sandals, so I figured I could at least do something about that. So one day when I was feeling a little down I treated myself to shopping (ah, new shoes) and a mani/pedi. (Do people actually say 'mani/pedi'? I have no idea.)

The polish on my fingernails fascinated me. It looked so pretty. So when it started to chip off, I went to Wal-Mart and got some polish, polish remover, and a pedicure kit that came with a big nail file. Now I tend to leave my toenails alone (they're only on their second style, sparkly)

and maintain my fingernails religiously (which have gone from deep purple to blue to sparkly to burgundy). I still have several other colors to try out, too!

Now that I am slightly more stylish (I tend to buy more shoes these days, too) I'm starting to notice that my hair is generally pretty flat and uninteresting. Maybe I should do something about that as well...

Bladder inflammation overturn

Welsh cyclists beware - inflamed bladders ahead

Officials had translated the command "cyclists dismount" from English into Welsh for the sign between Penarth and the capital Cardiff.

However, the result had been the baffling phrase: "Llid y bledren dymchwelyd" which roughly translates as "bladder inflammation overturn".

"The root of the problem was seeking an online translation and that's where it went wrong," a council spokesman said on Wednesday.

I'm reading The Devil Wears Prada

And all I can think is Why? Why am I reading this?

I'm not sure why I jumped on it so eagerly when one of the anchors at work offered it up for borrowing. I think I heard someone, at some point, say that it was good.

But so far, it's really not. There are interesting features, such as the protagonist's best friend and the protagonist's boyfriend, but their stories--despite being far more interesting than the protagonist's--are peripheral. The main thrust of this book so far is Gee, this fashion editor likes to have things done her way, is never wrong, and can be bitchy about it.

And for some reason it's taking an inordinately long time for the protagonist to figure it out. In the meantime, of course, she's working 14 hour days and giving up her weekends to carry out her employer's whims, all the while thinking patently obvious thoughts like "Why does she think she's so important?"

I have a very low tolerance for bullshit, and I'm also not a moron. So while I think it should be obvious to anyone that someone who is rich and powerful would expect to be treated as such, I also would never become such a person's assistant. And if I did happen to go into the job thinking it would be something else, I would quit as soon as I'd figured out the score. Which probably would have taken less than a day.

So to me, this extended plotline is nothing more than tiresome.

The writing isn't even all that great. How do books become bestsellers, anyway? I've seen better stuff on the web. As I'm reading, I'm constantly rewriting the sentences to flow better in my head.

And talk about an unsympathetic protagonist--she more than disdains Southern accents, and she refers to Texas as "the Third World". Obviously, because she "scrounged" up some money and backpacked around Europe and Southeast Asia, she's ridiculously enlightened, and obviously Texans are all backwards and stupid. We're supposed to identify with this girl as she's gaping wide-eyed at the duplicity and stupidity of the fashion world...but she's a hypocrite, just as prejudiced as the fashionistas she despises.

You might think from my description that this is some intentional irony that will be resolved as the character grows into a more mature person by the end of the book.

But I seriously doubt it.

I'm nearly halfway through the book and still in the exposition. I've been waiting for something interesting to happen for hours now, and there's nothing. Not even a hint of character development or change.

I'm sure there must be some sort of come-uppance in the works. And it probably won't happen until the protagonist's life is completely ruined. Maybe her too-good-to-be-true boyfriend will break up with her. (Hell, maybe he'll leave her for her best friend! I mean, that's the obvious way to go.) In some way, the protagonist will snap, and then vengeance will be hers.

But will I really care?

It's not like she's in this situation because she has to be. She's young. She's got a family she can fall back on. She wants to be in magazines, so why doesn't she actually work on writing something--submitting pieces to her beloved New Yorker? She took this assistant job on a whim...after going to an interview on a whim...after halfheartedly passing around resumes. There's no investment there. Did she never take an econ course? Sometimes it's better to cut your losses.

I can be pretty damn stubborn, but this is the kind of stubborn I have a hard time identifying with. Am I supposed to think she's noble because she put up with this woman for so long? Am I supposed to imagine her a hero for whatever she'll end up doing to resolve the situation?

The stupid is only believable so far.

I'm going to finish it. I'm not really a masochist; I'm just the type of person who hates to leave things unfinished.

And maybe, just maybe, this is all intentional. Maybe we are meant to dislike the protagonist. Maybe the protagonist is the true villain here. Maybe the point of this whole conflict is for her to grow up and get over her small-minded, ignorant views. Maybe as she works for this horrible woman, she will begin to see herself reflected in those haughty eyes.

That would redeem the book a little.

Unfortunately, regardless of whether the author is headed towards a broader perspective or simply a festival of revenge, she's taking an awfully long and painful road to get there.

Giger baby

There are no words.

Perspective

I was in the middle of catching up the weekend's stories when the phone rang.

"Please," I said for no one's benefit, "don't ask me how to use [a software application available on our website]." Then I picked up the phone. "Heather Meadows."

"Um, yes. You had a story on this morning about the car accident where my husband died."

There was a pause. I filled it with, "Oh. Yes, ma'am."

"I was wondering if it was going to be on the website."

"Um, yes, it should be up in a couple of hours."

"I just want to know what happened to him. I've been at the hospital...I can't get the police report."

A few of my brain cells recovered enough for me to say, "I'll get it up as soon as I can, ma'am."

I was supposed to be in a meeting in ten minutes.

I was a little late.

I would look terrible in those bunchy socks

You Are a Schoolgirl!

You're not quite as wild as a "kogyaru", but with your short plaid skirt and silly white socks, you're still a sexual fetish object. You can usually be seen hanging out in the girly section of the video game places, collecting photobooth stickers of you and your friends. You may not be as innocent as you look. Did those vending machine panties once belong to you?

What's Your Japanese Subculture?

This must be a test

Am I strong enough to push past the hurt and deal with the situation?

I guess I'll find out.

That poor child

This sounds familiar

N.H. woman bakes cookies on dashboard

With temperatures soaring Wednesday, Fontaine placed two trays of cookie dough on the dashboard, shut the doors and retreated inside to her air conditioned office.

[...]

Fontaine first tested her dashboard oven three years ago. She said anyone can do it; the only requirement is for the outside temperature to be at least 95 degrees, so it will rise to about 200 degrees in the car. Temperatures in the area reached the mid to upper 90s on Wednesday.

"It's a car...it's a barbecue. It's the Car-B-Que." Man, a dozen (or more) years later, I still think that an oven on the engine block is a brilliant idea ;>

Most awesome study ever

Study: Technology is a girl's best friend
U.S. women would prefer plasma TV to diamonds, designer shoes

The Girls Gone Wired survey of 1,400 women and 700 men aged 15 to 49, which was conducted by market researcher TRU, found that given the choice, women would opt for tech items rather than luxury items like jewelry or vacations.

The study found 77 percent of women surveyed would prefer a new plasma television to a diamond solitaire necklace and 56 percent would opt for a new plasma TV over a weekend vacation in Florida.

Even shoes lost out. The study found 86 percent would prefer a new digital video camera to a pair of designer shoes.

Hell yes! Designer shoes? Peh! Shop at Payless and save those dollars for a video mp3 player :D