elkit in wonderland

I'm Already Home

After being out most of the day yesterday, today is a home game. All my stuffs that I had in storage for the last few years, were delivered this week.

What's that? Yes, I know that "stuffs" is not a word. I say it anyway. I like making new plurals these days. Sheeps. Stuffs. Furnitures. Pantses. Newses. Feetses. Yeah, I'm just silly. No newses there.

Anyway, so I am rearranging stuffs around the house. After the delivery, I sorted all the boxes in the garage into piles. A pile for books. A pile for kitchen boxes. A pile for office boxes. Pile for CDs and LPs (and I moved the LPs into the house because the garage gets quite warm). A short pile for the boxes to unpack first (the Buddha, who is sitting on the table next to me now, smiling quietly; the cookbooks, and the box labeled "Favorite Books/Lieblingsbücher".)

Sorting done, I made a list of things to do. What to buy, what to measure, what to do first, second, third.

And today, here's what happened:

• I moved the TV, TiVo, DVD player and DirecTV box into my "old" entertainment cabinet, hooked them up again and did a quick QA to make sure they work correctly. (Yup, they do.)
• I switched beds - mine into what I'll call the guest bedroom for now, and my old platform bed into mine.  I am looking forward to sleep on it tonight.
• Did laundry and made both beds again
• Moved a rolling shelf from the dining room into my bedroom so that I could
• Move the dining room cabinets around
• Moved new old shelves from the living room into the guest bedroom, put a few books on them

Now it's time to unpack the stereo components, and then add a bunch of CDs and LPs to the setup.

Good times. Good times.

I Think I'll Call It Morning

Sunday morning 9am, I am sitting at my kitchen table, reading blogs and tweets and RSS feeds. The window is open, and my cat Maia is perching on the window sill, sniffing fresh air and checking out what's going on kitty television outside: the leettle leezards who live under the jasmine shrubbery are warming up on a sunny spot. Three of them! Usually I only see one or two of them at a time.

Gil Scott-Heron is singing to me: "I'm gonna take myself a piece of sunshine and paint it all over the sky ... be no rain, be no rain! I'm gonna take the song from every bird and make them sing it just for me. Birds got something to teach us all about being free. Be no rain ... be no rain! And I think I'll call it morning from now on."

My coffee cup is full of fresh brew, and the interwebs are full of new stories.

Be no rain. Be no rain.

'cause I Gotta Have Faith

And while George Michael pop music was playing from my laptop's speakers, two middle-age gentlemen knocked on my door. I'd seen them, and two other couples, walking down the other side of the street door to door fifteen minutes before. I could have closed off shop and hid in the back of the house, but that's just silly, isn't it?

I make it a point to answer the door to any evangelizing duos, be friendly and respectful to them, and tell them what I think is the truth as best as I can. Why wouldn't I just shut the door in their faces? Because that would be rude. And I think it's a tough job, trying to sell your faith, and being rejected in most places. So I believe that it's better for everyone if I am polite and friendly. And I've actually had several interesting discussions on my front porch.

The two gentlemen today were Jehovah's witnesses, bearing a copy of their Watchtower magazine. The lead gentleman, whose name I already forgot, announced that they came with good news, proceeded to read along with a printed bible verse about the wicked one's last days, and how the meek will inherit the earth, and peace will reign. (I couldn't help but think of the currrent government, and the upcoming elections.)

He asked if he could leave the magazine with me. I said "no, thank you" politely and explained that I would be unlikely to read it, and that I leaned most closely towards Buddhism.

"Oh?" he said, "Have you been doing that all your life?" (Sounded to me like a scripted answer was kicking in when I mentioned a different faith.)

I said no, that it was just the one I was drawn to the most, because it said that there were as many paths to enlightenment as there were people. (I really do like that - Buddhism seems to actively encourage people to think for themselves.) "There are so many religions," I said, "and they all look towards the good in people, trying to teach us to live together peacefully. I think it's more important to see that larger picture, and strive toward that good, rather than pick one particular religion. It's more important to look at what unites us, rather than the differences - you have a different religion, or you're a different skin color, therefore you must be bad, because I am good."

While I said that, his face took on that slightly strained look that says, "I am not even listening to you because you are so full of it. You are a lost cause, and no good to me. I'm just waiting until you've finished your sentence, and then I will make my escape."

Which he did, thanking me for taking the time to speak to them, wishing me a good day. Which I will certainly have, and hope he does too.

Give Me A Pain That I'm Used To

Well, this is different. At the gym today, I pulled a muscle in my right calf. It feels like a cramp that has settled in comfortably - well, not so comfortable for me. I walk funny when I need to take a few steps. When I don't, I lie down with my leg up, and I put an ice pack on it every few hours for about 20 minutes (following the RICE recommendation: Rest Ice Compress Elevate).

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven Day Weekend

The weekend is here! I've been out almost every evening this week, which is unusual for me - usually when I'm done at the office, I go home to my second job of being comfortable cat furniture.

This week, however, turned into a confluence of outside entertainment. Monday evening I was out to dinner with my friend Bryant, who was in town from Austin. Tuesday was the monthly blogger meeting - and it was the only evening I spent at home; I skipped this meeting in favor of nursing a headache (that still hasn't gone away entirely, actually). Wednesday was girls night, when five or six of us congregated in Cari's backyard for pizza and wine and stuffing envelopes for a mailing that Kristi needed to complete. Thursday saw me drive to Redwood City for good Moroccan food and even better Dopp Juice. And Friday evening I met two German friends for dinner - translaters from Team Übersetzungen who are in town for a localization project.

Now I'm at home, where I am going to spend most of the weekend, rearranging stuff in the garage, futzing around in the garden, enjoying the warm and sunny weather, and recharging my internal batteries. (One of many things that Sarah and I talked about over kefta tagine was the fact that even though we're outgoing and gregarious, we're still both introverts. In order to keep our sanity, relax, and restore, we need alone time. That's what I'm doing right now - it's just me and the kittens and the interwebs. Good times. Good times.)

Little Mysteries

The cats are shedding like crazy. And I mean KRRRA-ZEEEEE, much more than ever before. I keep brushing them, with the flea comb and the furminator. I keep brushing hair off the cats, off the floor, off the table, off the bed, off my clothes, off the laptop, and out of my face, and still, there's more.

What does that mean? That it's going to be 120° this summer?

Why Don't They Do What They Say, Say What You Mean

German blog "Nothing For Ungood" (trust me - the title is funny if you're German) says: Germans only speak clear text.

Communication between Americans and Germans can be very difficult, because we have different expectations about language. In America, we like to coat everything up nicely and try to indirectly say what we want to say in the most polite way possible. We are taught as kids, that if we don't have anything nice to say, then we shouldn't say anything at all. This is why we have to try to say negative things in more positive ways. It also means the listener has to think about what is being said and figure out the actual intent of the statement. Germans have the luxury of taking everything at face value, since Germans say exactly how they feel. Since Germans take everything we say literally, there is often confusion in transatlantic matters. Here is some anecdotal evidence from an acquaintance, let's call him "Jon"€. Jon has just moved to Germany from America, and the change in climate has caused him to get a bad case of dandruff. Jon'€™s German is pretty good, but the subject of dandruff never came up in German class, so he grabs his trusty German/English dictionary and discovers that the German word for dandruff is Schuppen. Armed with his new vocabulary, Jon heads to the drug store and asks the employee there, if they have any shampoo for Schuppen, to which Jon receives a blank stare as if he were completely crazy. Then she responds matter-of-factly, "No, we only have shampoo against dandruff".€

Cracks. Me. UP! It is so completely true. I know I am a very literal person, and truth be told, I take pride in it.

Back Of My Neck Feelin' Dirty and Gritty

Hottish today - over 90 degrees, which I would venture is unseasonably warm for mid-May. The entire production department (i.e. Tim and I) took this as a good excuse to flock to the Peninsula Creamery for lunch, where I proceeded to have a banana split. I say that was the best lunch of the week.

Now I'm gonna run off home to see if the kitties are roasted. I think they should be fine - I locked down good this morning, closing all windows and pulling all the shades down. The roastingest part of my day will probably be the drive home. (I am always reluctant to turn the AC on in the car; I prefer to roll down the windows and suck in the hot breeze. I dunno why.)

This Is How I Pray In The Summertime

The first summer weekend is here - yes, I know it's only mid-April, but if I can trust the weather widget, the temperature got up to 87 degrees yesterday. It was hottish even in Santa Cruz, where I'd gone to get my hair cut. It was great to get off Highway 17, up the hill and down the hill and up another hill among the redwoods to see my friend/hairdresser Kelly. Listening to Campbell Scott narrate "The Shining" by Stephen King, that was just perfect for the shady drive among the redwoods. Once in Santa Cruz, however, with the sunshine and the fresh salty seaweedy breeze, the snows of Colorado and the monsters in the Overlook Hotel were such an odd juxtaposition that I took the CD out and switched to Italian pop music.

Do The Pony!

My coworker Andy and I go to the gym together, and I talked him into joining the "Core Strength" class, where we do lots of crunches and plank positions and other fine midriff torture measures. We just compared abs, and agreed that we're both a long ways from a six-pack: we're in the pony keg category.