mosker

Resolutions

I am not a resolution-making person. Sure, I should exercise more often and eat better and watch less television and read more books, but those are always there and they feel so obligatory. And how do you measure things like less television and eating better anyway--how do you measure success? After all, you can either feel really successful if you walk for 30 minutes one day a week (if you haven't been exercising regularly) or like an utter failure for not getting in at least an hour a day, seven days a week. I don't need to set myself up to fail so early in the year. Or ever.

I would, however, like to set a couple of reasonable goals. Goal sounds better than resolution, doesn't it?

1. Cook more. It's not that I don't cook. I really do. But sometimes I get stuck in a bit of a food rut and I think I need to branch out a bit more. I have an enormous stack of recipes that I'd like to try, but I never seem to get around to it. I was going to set a goal of trying out 52 new recipes this year--one a week should be doable--except I rarely turn on the oven during the summer months when it starts to get hot and humid, so I'll cut that in half and say 26 new recipes (or variations to recipes I've already tried). Anything beyond that is a bonus.
2. Take more pictures. I enjoy photography, but thanks to some early, less than constructive criticism, I tend to be ridiculously hard on myself about my images. Fortunately I'll be making all of those new recipes, so I'll have something on which to focus my photographic efforts. By the end of the year I'd like to have 20 photographs--not all of which need to be food--that I like well enough to print and frame. This goal is much more difficult than the first one.

I've already made progress on the first goal: lemon curd (which was a fail and will need to be revisited) and homemade pop tarts (which have been deemed a success by the folks who tested them out, so that will need to be revisited again too).

Of course, I'd like to work on the more exercise and reading goals, too.

Technical Support

 

He's right, I do want that for myself

One of my colleagues bought a new MacBook Pro this week and brought it in for me to see it. (I did help her find a nice discount on it, so I guess getting to actually touch it was my reward.)

My boss told me I shouldn't look at though, because I would just be jealous and want to get one for myself.

He was right. 

Surprisingly though, even after almost four years, I still love my basic white MacBook, so that MacBook Pro? I'm okay that I can't buy one for myself.

It feels personal

It's election day. The polling places in Missouri open early enough that I could vote before work and not be late, but that would require I get up earlier than usual, and I'm not a big fan of getting up early. Besides, assuming I don't work too late, I have enough time to vote after work too, so that is a better plan, and what I did today.

My polling place is conveniently located on my way to and from work, but when I pulled into the parking lot there were no cars there, and instead of last-minute campaigners staked out on the sidewalk, there was just a sign that said if you were in District A, go to some other place to vote, or if you were in District B, go somewhere else instead. (The districts are actually numbered, not lettered, but you get the idea.) I don't know what district I'm in--I always just go to the address on the reminder card they mail out before every election, and it's been at the same place since I moved here. Except I did not receive a reminder card this time, which should have been my first hint that something was amiss.

I went home and called the Jackson County Election Board to find out where my new polling place is located. After about five minutes on hold, the woman who answered looked up my name, confirmed my address, and told me where to go. No problem. It was getting late, but there was still about an hour before the polls closed, so I drove to the address she gave me. I had my ID handy and they pointed me to the poll worker with the correct binder, but to my surprise, I wasn't on the list. That has never happened to me before. I've had them not be able to see my name until I, reading upside-down, pointed it out to them, but I have always been on the list when I show up to vote.

I waited expectantly until someone finally pointed out a table in the back staffed by a young woman on a cellphone--clearly waiting for someone to answer--surrounded by a half-dozen people looking at her expectantly. The woman became increasingly flustered and apologetic while those waiting grew increasingly frustrated. One man was there with his wife and said that although they had registered at the same time, only he was eligible to vote. Several others began comparing notes and reported that this was their regular polling place and they had been at the same address for many years and had not moved. We all learned that while we showed up on the list she had on her computer, all of our voter registrations were inactive, which the woman staffing the table could not explain because no one at the Election Board was answering the phone.

Our options were to A) go away without voting, B) drive to the Election Board in the hopes of working it out in person--an iffy prospect given the limited amount of time until the polls closed and rush hour traffic between here and there, or C) casting a provisional ballot. I chose the provisional ballot.

Every election--especially big ones--you hear about voting problems, and the media talks to people who are upset because the had to cast provisional ballots. I've listened to those reports with half an ear, kind of tuning it out, because really...they got vote, right? But it isn't until you have to vote provisionally yourself that you realize how personal it feels. I did everything I need to do to exercise my civic duty: I registered, I showed up, only to be told that maybe it will count and maybe it won't. Sure, I got the same ballot as everyone else, but my ballot had to go into a special envelope, and then I had to drop it into a separate ballot box, where after some days or weeks of investigation they will determine that the error was theirs and finally open the box to tally my vote. Except by then the results will already have been determined and announced and certified, meaning my vote really did not count at all. That feels personal to me.

Flex spending

I have 4 days left to figure out how much money I want to commit to flexible spending for health care expenses next year. Which means I have to compile the receipts I've been hoarding to figure out how much I've spent so far and then predict how healthy or ill I will be next year, relative to this year.

This is so much fun [she says, dripping with sarcasm]. I don't know why I don't do this every evening.

Back to the Mac recap

Don't have the time (or patience) to watch the entire Back to the Mac presentation? Here's a recap that hits all of the high points in less than two minutes:

 

My kingdom for a tool cabinet

There are people who put away their tools as soon as they finish using them and can, therefore, always locate exactly what they are looking for. There are also those who set everything down right where they were using them and then have to remember where the last project was when they were using the tool they now need. 

I am sad to admit that I fall into the latter category, so my tools tend to be scattered around willy-nilly. In my defense, my small assortment of power tools are generally stored away properly, but I cannot say the same for hammers, screwdrivers, and most recently, utility knives.

My washer died early this summer and after we hauled the new one to the basement, my friend asked for a utility knife to open the packaging. I found the knife and we finished the install. Some weeks later we basically repeated the conversation for the dryer which followed quickly its partner, but I couldn't find that knife, so I pulled out the one that is supposed to live with my bookbinding supplies. Of course, I didn't put that one away either, so yesterday I could not find it when I tried to cut book board.

After about 30 minutes of searching all of the recent places I've worked on anything requiring tools, I gave up in frustration. This is clearly an area where I should strive for improvement. As much as I'd love a tool cabinet, after replacing both the washer and drying this year I don't think I'll be getting one any time soon. Perhaps I should aim lower and just have designated place for everything to land, even if it doesn't get sorted out every time.

I'll work on that after I go buy another utility knife. 

Lettuce

When we were growing up, I'm pretty sure the only kind of lettuce we ever ate was iceberg. Shredded for tacos, leaves for sandwiches, chopped for salads, but all of it was iceberg. To be fair, I don't think there was a lot of variety available, and if my mom had served something else, I might have had the same reaction as the day she bought me straight-leg jeans when EVERYONE wore bell-bottoms. Hello? Did she have no idea of the humiliation she was attempting to heap on me? All of the kids would have seen them and I would not have been able to show my face in school again. Okay, so another kind of lettuce wouldn't have been that bad, but I doubt I would have been very receptive at the time.

Fast forward to the modern era when I discovered that everything is better than iceberg--more nutritious, tastier, and far more attractive on a plate (hey, looks do matter when you prepare a meal)--and I barely notice iceberg lettuce is still sold in the supermarket.

Except the other day the selection of mixed lettuces was pretty poor and they didn't have any red leaf and it was all so expensive anyway, and I broke down and bought iceberg. It turns out it is not completely without merit and it does have a longer shelf than the bagged mixed stuff. So while I really don't see myself serving an iceberg lettuce salad to guests, it does make a nice crisp side to the first quiche of the season.