Effective Immediately

Effective Immediately...I have resigned my job. This morning I got a clean bill of health from my doctor who thinks all of my bizarre hormonal issues, when you take the bigger picture of my dating history, are just my body's way of jump starting itself after shock, several years of depression, and then a couple more years of nothing much able to happen. So I went into my bosses this morning stating that I am good for my position, but perhaps a liability to the organization, and would like to leave before it becomes a problem, effective immediately. So I'm going to be moving into the bottom story of our old house, and looking for another job soon. I already have three days employment in the middle of this month helping do inventory at the local fabric store, and I'm in no way destitute right now. So I'm going to take a breather for a few days after all this stress, and then start looking for a job.

And that's the scoop.

Home Again

Home Again

I rolled back into town from Seattle yesterday just in time for work, then worked, ran errands, watched a movie, went to part of a band concert, picked up my mail, talked on the phone for several hours (should have gone to bed way earlier), and then printed out a few pages before I went to bed.

Things are coming to a head at work. I can't say anything more about it right now. Maybe I will after it's all over. Needless to say I'm struggling, angry and stressed out.

And I'm off to run errands.

Never Content to Leave Well Enough Alone

Never Content to Leave Well Enough Alone

I'm reading (again) Dorothy Sayers' Busman's Honeymoon. Sayers always allows Lord Peter to quote a tremendous amount of poetry and literature. And probably more than I know since I don't catch all the references. It's easy enough to realize what she's doing when she throws in a phrase in Latin or antiquated French (untranslatable on Babelfish).

My favorite reference was in Unnatural Death.

"But I never know when I am not spied upon," she said. "It is sheer spite, you know. Considering how my husband has behaved to me, I think it is monstrous - don't you?"
Her guest agreed that Mr. Forrest must be a monster, jesuitically, however, reserving the opinion that the monster might be a fabulous one.

A throwaway reference to Lewis Carrol's Alice in Wonderland:

"It didn't hurt him" the Unicorn said carelessly, and he was going on, when his eye happened to fall upon Alice: he turned round instantly, and stood for some time looking at her with an air of the deepest disgust

"What--is--this?" he said at last.

"This is a child!" Haigha replied eagerly, coming in front of Alice to introduce her,.. "We only found it to-day. It's as large as life, and twice as natural!"

"I always thought they were fabulous monsters!" said the Unicorn. "Is it alive?"...

Alice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: "Do you know, I always, thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I never saw one alive before!"

"Well, now that we have seen each other: said The Unicorn,"if you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you. Is that a bargain?

So a fabulous monster, is just a run of the mill human. Oh frabjous day!!

In Busman's Honeymoon, the title is a double play on words. Lord and Lady Peter have come to their new country home expecting to spend a pleasant honeymoon, but find the house shut up, with the owner clearly away. Later he is found murdered in the cellar. In one scene, Lord Peter and the constable entertain themselves while gathering evidence by working quotes into their conversation for the other to identify. Harriet, newly Lady Peter, joins in:

"That's what I was thinking," said Harriet. "A busman's honeymoon. Butchered to make a--"
"Lord Byron," cried Mr. Kirk, a little too promptly. "Butchered to make a busman's - no that doesn't seem right somehow."
"Try Roman," said Peter.

So what is a Busman's honeymoon? The real phrase is "busman's holiday" which the American Heritage Dictionary defines as, "NOUN: Informal A vacation during which one engages in activity that is similar to one's usual work." Word-Detective gives the common explaination of the phrase origen.

It is said that the drivers of horse-drawn omnibuses in London in the 19th century were so solicitous of their horses' well-being that the drivers would often spend their days off surreptitiously riding as passengers on their own trolleys to make sure that the substitute driver was treating their horses well. This practice was so widespread, it is said, that "busman's holiday" came to mean, as you say, "doing on your day off the same thing you do all week at work," with the added connotation that you are doing it out of the goodness of your heart.

He then goes on to say that most likely that story is an urban legend. The real word was "buzman's holiday."

Now the question is, "When is a pickpocket's holiday? When is he off-duty, not cruising for a score?" Simply put, never. Pickpockets are always working to some extent, and I think that's the point of "buzman's holiday." I think the phrase probably arose as a sardonic comment on the voracity of criminals, and gradually spread as a metaphor for anyone who seemed unable to "put down his tools." Only when the phrase reached the stratum of polite society where "buzmen" were unknown did the heart-warming story of "busmen" arise from an attempt to explain the origins of the phrase.

There is a second level, in the quote Harriet modifies,and Kirk picks up on.

"He heard it, but he heeded not . his eyes
Were with his heart, and that was far away;
He reck.d not of the life he lost, nor prize,
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young barbarians all at play,
There was their Dacian mother . he, their sire,
Butchered to make a Roman holiday."

Lord Byron: Childe Harold

Lord Byron is depicting Gladiators, who are killed to give the Roman masses something to do. Harriet is concerned that the discovery of a corpse in the basement will make Peter turn his honeymoon into a working vacation, hence, busman's holiday. These two phrases combined become the title, "Busman's Honeymoon."

Robert Jordan Strikes Again

Robert Jordan Strikes Again...

...with his longest prologue ever; 99 pages. I've read seven of them. I think it's stopped raining enough to go get my sewing machine out of the car and start quilting. My drunkards path is coming along nicely, except that I started by using up scraps, so I don't have an even number of anything. Exactly the look I'm going for, but harder to plan around when I'm buying new fabric.

What do you do when you get acquainted with someone that you can actually talk to. About something. Last night the most amazing thing happened. I called a guy in the middle of a documentary, and he turned it off to talk to me. Shocking! We talked about all sorts of things. Favorite movies, coffee shops, Cate Blanchett, Keanu Reaves, city life, poetry, one act plays, gender roles, and sea lions. It's a new concept. I'd always been in the situation of having to tone down to avoid the look of panic that comes when your average guy hears you go on about a book. (And rightfully so. I can go on for ages after it's actually interesting any longer) It's been lovely. And I love listening to him talk about things that interest him. And he thinks I'm smarter than him, but I think he is, so it works out nicely.

I'm going to go finish the last of my chocolate turtles and get to quilting. 100 channels of cable and I've run out of sitcom reruns to rot my brain. Tomorrow -- used bookstore, getting my eyebrows done, and maybe a pedicure.

Quilting Tonight, teaching tomorrow, then back to Seattle. Two nights. Then an over and back teaching, and Seattle for the rest of the weekend.

Re-Decorate

Re-Decorate

An interesting thought. The wife of the man who runs the Habitat for Humanity Re-Store asked what I thought about starting up a store called Re-Decorate so that they could accept some of the donations that they don't have room for, and wanted to know if I'd be interested.

I might be.

Johari Window

Johari Window

It seems that everyone is doing it. Fill out mine and I'll return the favor!

Please? Denise? Drea? I know you want to!

Filling Space as I near 1200

Filling Space as I near Post 1200.

The past few days have been really stressful. The nice thing? I'm off to Seattle Sunday after church for a whole week, plus a day, housesitting for some friends of the family. I needed some time away, and to myself, so I'm looking forward to it.

I'm nearly finished with book nine. I'll confess, I cheated and read the last couple of pages when I was starting to get antsy around page 400. So I've ruined the ending for myself. But with no hope in sight of an end to the series, I don't feel very guilty.

Below is the nicest Valentine anyone has ever given me.

Kisses

Kisses
By Steve Pedersen

Snuggled after games
Of Doctor and House,
We questioned kisses,
Wondering whether
The Butterfly
Was better than
The Eskimo.

I believed the first,
With its
Fluttering eyelashes,
Tickled way too much
To be a real kiss.
But the second one
I believed came closer.

Rubbing nose to nose,
I thought the Eskimos
Were on to something.
But still I knew
There must be something more.
Then you leaned in,
Kissed me and ran.

I followed knowing
The game of Chase
Is never won
-simply played again:
After both fall clasped in arms,
Tickled to the nose
With kisses...

A Suffusion of Yellow

A Suffusion of Yellow

Today was sunny for the second day in a row. I almost got back on the highway and took the right fork instead of the left (To Mt. Rainier National Forest instead of White Pass. Yesterday I started towards the grocery store and wound up in the mountains) but I ate with the Pros at Olive Garden instead and then watched a brief Halo Tournament while enjoying the feeling of sun on my head through the window. I'd forgotten how much I miss windows. Or rather, I try not to think about it, since what am I going to do anyway. Even if I carved a hole in the wall, it would just give me a birds eye view of the front counter.

We watched Waiting..., which had some funny moments. Then I half napped on the couch until Sean remembered that I'd grabbed a ride with him and Kris from Olive Garden, and was at his mercy for a ride home. It was nice to get out of the house for the day. He couldn't figure out why I was hanging out so long, and thought it was cool, until he realized that I was in essence trapped there.

I took a nap late this evening, always a bad plan, because now it's nearly midnight and I'm wired. There is a chocolate lava cake cooling in my kitchen, and three blocks of fudge in my house from Drea, so I've got my fix for the time being. Fudge is not something you can plow through quickly. One must savor it, or die of a diabetic coma.

Tomorrow is Monday again. Where does the weekend go. I have a week in Seattle planned for next Sunday. I'll be in and out of town all week to teach, but the rest of the time is MINE! I'm really looking forward to the break.