"%H"

I’m enjoying my blockbuster online membership much more than I thought I would. One of my more recent viewings was Anger Management. I thought it was hilarious. I really like Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson. I highly recommend it.

Bold statement for the day: Triscuits are not nearly as tasty as Wheat Thins.

At work, they recently built a huge new building on our campus. We used to have three smallish oldish buildings (maybe from the 1970s?), but now we have those three, plus a HUGE new building (maybe large enough to fit 4 football fields?) and there’s a small office for me and the other 5 engineers in the new building. We moved last week. I needed a small drawer and all I got with my new cube was 2 big drawers. So one of the other engineers directed me and watched as I installed brackets for a pencil drawer under my desktop. I had to use a cordless drill and everything. And I had to wear safety goggles. I was satisfied.

So this brand spanking new office space was equipped with motion and sound sensors that controlled the lights, instead of regular light switches. (Apparently, we’re too irresponsible to remember to turn off the lights when we leave for the day.) The sensors were set to an annoyingly short interval so that the lights would turn off after about 2 minutes of “inactivity.” And standing at my desk, waving my arms wouldn’t turn them on. Neither did throwing little balls at the sensors. Neither did clapping. The only way to get the lights to turn on is to walk near one of the two doorways. Not very good. Technology should improve our lives, not add to life’s frustrations. Two days after we moved, someone came in to increase the time between detections and after about a week in our new digs, we got light switches installed. Amen.

My friend Rebecca helped me come up with a new way of quantifying the happiness in life at any given time. I am calling it percentage happiness (%H). She mentioned that she’s not enjoying her job too much, but that everything else is going great in her life. She said that she’s 2/3 happy, based on spending 8 hours a day at her job in misery. (I know, I know, she only works 40 hours a week and that 40 hours is spread out over only 5 days so her number is actually higher, probably more like 16/21 happy.) I thought about how many hours in a given day I spend being unhappy/frustrated/sad. I would estimate that I am between 5/6 and 6/7 happy, which would mean my number is higher than hers. But based on our last meeting, I felt like she is absolutely more with life than me. So then I got the idea to designate HOW unhappy the unhappy time is (mild, moderate, severe). But I’m not sure how to quantify that. By my original definition, assuming that all unhappiness is created equal, I think my realistic goal is to get to 23/24 happy. That way I still get 7 hours a week to bitch about life, engage in negative self-talk, and feel generally unsatisfied.

On to happier things, this morning and yesterday morning, I saw numbers on my scale that I haven’t seen in about 2 years. I’m trying to take things 10 pounds at a time. Now if I could just shake the cold that I got in Las Vegas, I could work out a little bit better…

I went to Vegas last weekend with Susheela. We tried to do it as cheaply as we could. Vegas is definitely something to see but I’m not in any real hurry to go back. The only gambling I did was on NFL games (the only thing I know anything about). I bet on two games and won one and lost one, so I more or less broke even. You kind of need a lot more money to do Vegas the right way. Everything was just wicked expensive – eating, shopping, shows, hotels on the strip. ARGH. My favorite thing was the Sports and Race Book area at each of the big hotels. I entered the area at the Excalibur and it was like choirs of angels were singing as I slowly approached the wall with like 30 TV screens, showing every sporting event known to man. There were lots of big comfy chairs to lounge in too. I could see how betting on sports could be addictive. If I thought I could be good, I might consider it a hobby during the NFL season. One of the funnier moments was at the shopping area with all the upscale stores. As we browsed through Coach, Gucci, Prada, Tiffany, etc., I told Susheela I was surprised that we didn’t see a Harry Winston store and just as we were leaving the mall, there it was and we both cracked up.

Actually, the best part about Vegas was when I got off the plane at the Vegas airport. It was hot and I went to the ladies room to change into some shorts and I found the Old Navy coupons I had lost awhile back in the pocket of my shorts! I was so pleased. If I hadn’t gone to Vegas, I would not have found those tickets because it’s been way too cold to wear shorts here in D-town this fall. Yay! That was a great way to start the trip. The Vegas airport on the way back was an absolute Zoo. The large number of people there and the disorganization made me a little anxious. The security measures at airports do not make me feel safer. It just annoys me. And scares me. Maybe I can elaborate more some other time.

green meat, the end of summer, disorganization, Old navy, the death of clothing

So, we can’t buy fresh spinach for awhile. That makes me sad. I like fresh spinach.

I know that I am not immune to food-borne illness but I like to think that I am. I grew up with 4 brothers, my mom stayed at home with us and my dad taught at a Catholic school. We lived a pretty frugal lifestyle, so my mom found interesting ways to keep food on the table. She’d buy and serve the produce and meat that was marked down because it was expiring that day. As a family, we’re pretty healthy and don’t seem to be particularly vulnerable to food bugs and we joke that it’s because we built up a resistance over the years because mom served us green meat. Even now, there are lots of people who get grossed out by that idea but to the Kals, it just doesn’t really phase us. I think I can make decisions on my own about whether food is safe. I appreciate the aid of “sell by” or “expires on” dates, but I can make up my own mind, thank you very much. I’m not afraid to throw out things that have gone bad. I sometimes have to pour out the last of the gallon of milk or the end of the sour cream container or the chicken in the fake Tupperware that I forgot about. I know that salmonella (sallyamoola) and e. coli are no joke, but for someone like me who’s in relatively good health, with an uncompromised immune system, and who grew up on green meat, I like to think that when other people might check themselves into a hospital, I’ll just have to sit on the toilet for a little bit.

I saw my breath this morning when I was watering my plants. I guess summer is officially over. I do not enjoy the fall. Fall means the winter is coming when the days are short and I’ll go weeks without seeing the sun. No more sandals. Socks are a necessity. No more summer produce. It’s all downhill now. I know lots of people enjoy the change of seasons but I wouldn’t mind if it was just 70 all the time.

I’ve worked on my gas pumping technique to avoid nozzle drippage. When I’m done pumping and the nozzle is still in the tank, I sort of gently wiggle it, just a little bit. Then I dip the handle down and tilt the nozzle up and then replace the nozzle on the pump. Voila.

You know how they define a recession as a set number of times that some economic factor decreases? Personal disorganization is defined as a period when Colleen is looking for 3 or more things that she has lost. I’m at 2 right now. I lost some foam earphone covers, and some beloved Old navy coupons. I just have no idea where they are, but I know they are somewhere. Grrr.

I am Old Navy’s worst Best Customer. I buy my clothes almost exclusively from their clearance racks (wearing a shirt I got for $2 to work today). About 2 years ago, I finally opened a charge card, even though I had been shopping there since high school. There are lots of perks to having an Old Navy charge card. You get to hear about exclusive deals, and they mail occasional coupons, but the best part is that because I gave them my e-mail address, every time they mail me a bill, I get a $5 off coupon. And there’s no minimum that I have to spend to redeem it. It’s fabulous. So my best trick is to find a $7 jacket and a $4 pair of pants, use two of my $5 coupons, and charge the remaining $1 and tax to my charge card. They send me a bill with another $5 coupon and the cycle repeats.

Now I realize that occasionally I have to buy something full price, or nearly full price. I went to ON last week looking for dark jeans that are dressy enough to wear for going out. (Not that I ever go out. So we’ll just say, dressy enough for casual Fridays at work.) I also needed something I like to refer to as “crap khakis.” These are a variety of khaki pant that I can wear every day to work, spill stuff on, and just generally abuse until they fall apart AND feel no guilt when they die. ON is usually very solid in this department. Thought I was unsuccessful last time, I need to try again soon (coupons that I can’t put my fingers on are expiring at the end of September).

I’m trying to decide what constitutes the death of a khaki. I have a pair with 4 stains – rust spots, unidentified black nastiness, something that crispy and clear, and mustard, and they also have 2 small (pinprick) holes (but none in the crotch or butt). I feel like I could still wear them on Fridays. No?

salsa, gears, skylights, Marian, gym, scales, singing, couscous, and e.coli

This week, I made another batch of salsa, sans bloodshed. (See earlier post regarding previous salsa debacle.) Back at Case, when I was playing softball, a teammate and close friend Marcela went through a vegan stage. It made for interesting team trips to restaurants. I specifically remember a trip to Big Boy (or some other family restaurant) during the season where she ordered a plate of pasta with green beans and salsa and she proclaimed that it was very good. She would pile salsa on everything and we made fun of her for it. When we’d go to Mi Pueblo, she often would ask for her own bowl of salsa separate from the table’s community salsa. But I think she was onto something. Salsa is wonderful. The ingredients are so simple, but the flavors are so great. It takes time to chop all the ingredients for homemade salsa but, oh, the rewards. Sometimes, I eat my salsa straight, alone, right out of the bowl. Just like Marcela used to do.


After I repaired my cassette car adapter, it stopped working again. It would play for like 3 seconds and then the car would spit it out. I opened up the cassette and after examining the gears, thought that the gears needed to be filed down but when that didn’t work again, I did an online “how to fix” search. Some of the sites suggested that I remove three of the gears (x-ed out). This week I tried that, and now the adapter works! Why those three extra gears are in there is beyond me, but I love being s-m-r-t smart.

We’ve already established that I’m scared of thunder and the dark but I have not mentioned my deep love of the sound of rain hitting my skylight. The soft pinging is just delightful. I realize that skylights are intrinsically a pretty dumb idea (“Let’s cut a hole in the roof!” “Why?” “Because natural light is prettier than artificial light!”) but I think the skylight is my favorite thing about my condo. Sometimes on mornings during the weekends, I’ll figure out activities I can do with the sole purpose of standing under my skylight in the natural light. And I feel so pretty. While I’m doing the dishes. Or scrubbing the sink. Or cleaning the kitchen floor.

During the winter, I don’t get to see the sun much, but at work, they have these testing facilities with huge bright lights everywhere. I’ve stood under them and the heat and light feel glorious, just like real sunlight. Last year, I came in on a Sunday in December to watch while the technicians were doing my deployments and they let me hang out under the lights between deployments. I think I need to schedule more test series this winter.

I gave my talk at Marian yesterday and I think it went well. I really enjoyed talking to the girls and seeing some old faculty. There really is nothing like going back and everyone making you feel so adored. It took me a couple hours to figure out what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it, but in the end, I thought it was coherent. It was hard for me to believe that 11 years ago, I was entering high school. I just can’t believe it’s been that long. After, the girls asked me some questions about my job and about my athletic and Field Day record. It was very fun to reminisce. They even gave me an alumni sweatshirt to thank me! Yay!

Here’s the thing about going to the gym. Almost without exception, I feel better when I leave than when I walk in. (The only exception is when I have a really bad running workout and feel like I’m going to die. But even then, I am usually consoled by knowing that I will be better the next time. I went through a period in March though, where each run was worse than the one before it. After about a month of that, I gave up on running for about a month and a half!) I know there are lots of women who don’t like getting sweaty when they workout. I think sweating is the point of working out. I don’t think it really counts if I don’t sweat. And I feel best about myself after my workout when my muscles are tired, my makeup is softened, my cheeks have color, and I’m pretty confident that I just survived a self-imposed ass kicking.

I joined my gym in December of last year. It costs twenty bucks a month, it’s a half mile from my house, and the people there seemed very willing to be flexible about my membership if I wanted to take a couple months off and then come back or something. Since then, I have a little more than 10 pounds. My New Years goal was to lose a pound a week for the entire year, which would have put me at my goal weight at the end of the year. I maintained my pound per week pace through mid February, but then I kind of fell off the wagon with trips to Chihuahua and being lazy and having discouraging runs and stuff. But I think I’m ready to rededicate myself, and turn my 1 year plan into a 1.5 or 2 year plan.

I weigh myself pretty much every morning. The scale gives instant feedback. But if anyone else is like me, sometimes the number on the scale dictates how the rest of my day will go. See an expected number? The day will be fine. See a good number? I’m going to have a fantastic day. See a bad number? I remember it all day. I look forward to a time in my life where I will be able to see an expected number that is also a good number every day. Amen.

My choir director (yes, I joined Isidore’s choir last week) knows that I play the piano and she has repeatedly complimented me on my ability to sight read and learn new songs. If she knew how much training I have as a musician I think she’d change her mind and be pretty unimpressed with me. I’m trying to figure out a way to tell her (without sounding arrogant) that part of my training was sight reading and knowing what each interval sounds like and being able to quickly figure out rhythms. Church hymns aren’t nearly as tricky to figure out as Rachmaninoff. I probably won’t tell her that, but I may want to emphasize that I am already a musician, but I need her to help me figure out how to be a singer. Like, I don’t know how to breathe very well.

I put together a winning combination for lunch today. Fresh baby spinach, couscous (!), chicken, steak, tomato, onion, cucumber, with Italian dressing. Sooooo yummy. And I don’t even care if the spinach has e. coli.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,214039,00.html

More about E. coli some other time…

Product of the week that gets my endorsement: Coffeemate Vanilla Chai Creamer. Excellent in coffe, but not so great in chai tea. Good stuff. So good that when I brought my own bottle to work, it was almost all gone after 1 day.

I get the Spirit Air weekly specials e-mail. Their sale last week was called “Return of the Mullet.” Their ad read, "Business in the front and party in the back? Well, the Mullet is back in style at spiritair.com with great fares in both business class and coach class. The Mullet Sale is back and is better than ever!"

Last week, I was busy channeling my inner Whitney. I should have been channeling my inner Tiger because our work group's golf outing was on Friday. (I thought about wearing a red shirt and black pants but I thought that would be too cheesy.) It was a really challenging course and I lost 4 balls, but that was very good compared to the rest of the group. I haven't golfed in about 4 years but I had a really good time and I wasn't too bad. It's nice to know that I could be better if I spent more time on it.

Let me repeat that: I could be better if I spent more time on it. That could be the story of my life. On Thursday, I'm giving a talk at Marian's leadership day. I've been pondering what to tell these amazing girls and really, the best I can come up with is that it's so awesome to be an adult and not in school because now I have time to focus on things that are important to me instead of things that are important to other people. The entire time I was at Marian, and even Case, I felt like there was always so much that needed to be done and that I never had time to pursue what I wanted to do. Don't get me wrong, I have deep love for Marian, I'm just not quite sure how I'm going to put a positive spin on how great it is to be in high school on Thursday...

Every now and again, I’m good for a profound thought. My most recent ponderable is the key to living a happy life versus living an unhappy life. I think the secret to a lifetime of discontentment is always wanting what you don’t have. These could be material things (nicer car, bigger house, faster internet connection), life things (a job that pays more, is more challenging, or more fulfilling) or personal things (a relationship with a significant other, with friends, or with family). By choosing to focus on the things I do have, and the things that make me happy and bring me fulfillment, I’m choosing to be happy. And it has to be a choice that I make every day. At Jenny's wedding, the priest said, "I don't know many people who want to be unhappy for the rest of their life" and I thought to myself, "Really? I know a few...." I want to elaborate on that at a later time.

I saw a young couple making out in the carpeting section at Home Depot on Saturday. Blech. I was just trying to look at paint chips for my basement (one of my favorite activities) and got a little lost and then I almost vomited.

Happy happy joy joy!

Today is one of my favorite days of the year. It is the Thursday before the first Sunday of another NFL season. To celebrate, I will watch the first game of the season tonight, Miami at Pittsburgh. Another NFL season means I will waste way too many hours and way too much mental energy managing my fantasy football team. It means relaxing on Sunday after church and grocery shopping, the smell of a simmering pot of chili or soup or stew wafting through the chilly, autumn air. It means passing out on my couch around the second quarter of every Lions game, only to wake up at the end of the 4th quarter with the game well out of reach. ESPN signed a deal last year that moves Monday night football to their station and Sunday night football to network television, so for the next 17 Sundays, I will be able to watch football from 1pm-11pm! It makes my heart so happy, I can hardly contain my excitment.

Macomb County Road Commission and Channeling My Inner Whitney

I work next door to a sewage treatment plant. Today, it smells like poop. They must be stirring up crap, literally.

Last Sunday, I pried two blocks of wood off of the wall in my basement. I have no idea what they were there for. It was very satisfying to swing the old hammer around. I totally had my way with those blocks and I did minimal damage to the paneling (nothing that a little spackle can’t fix!).

The other day, I a cartoon sexy woman decal on the back window of a minivan. She was in a provocative pose and not wearing much clothing. On the incongruity scale, how does it compare with the time I saw the Korn decal on a Lincoln Navigator?

Listening to my mp3 player and Whitney Houston’s “It’s Not Right But It’s OK.” Love that song. “It’s not right, but it’s ok, I’m gonna make it any way…” Every time I hear it, I think of Kelly from Marian who used to do a wicked Whitney impersonation. Every once in awhile, I feel the need to channel my inner Whitney.

A couple months ago I called the Macomb County Road Commission to complain about the timing of lights in my area. Specifically, there were 2 lights that bothered me because I hit the red lights EVERY TIME. I left a voicemail and to my shock, someone called me back! I talked for about 15 minutes with one of their people. (Civil engineer? Traffic controller? I’m not really sure.) I was very impressed by his knowledge of the area and why the lights are timed the way they are. He assured me he would look into my complaints and encouraged me to call again if anything ever came up again. I have noticed that the timing of one of the lights has changed! I only hit the red light about half the time now!!! So delighted!

I ordered a car kit for my mp3 player (you know, the thingy that goes into a tape deck in your car stereo, see "Idiot Tax" post below). It cost 6 dollars. It worked for about a week and then something mechanical was not functioning right (not surprising. It didn't look like it was very high quality). So I took it apart on Sunday night and dissected the interaction of the plastic gears. SO FUN. I figured out that there were 2 pieces of plastic flash that were causing the interference. I used nail clippers to trim the flash and BOOM, my car kit works again. Yay.