Missed Marks

What I ordered for my mom for Mother's Day:

What was delivered:

The hell?! 

Okay, okay, to be entirely fair, the florist did tell me that they were out of the dahlias, and I told them to substitute a chrysanthemum or lily or something else big.

But come on.

First, with the colors of those roses in there, I'd have probably gone with a dark pink or red gerbera, not orange.  Or yellow spray roses instead of ivory.  I dig the pittosporum, but greenery alone cannot redeem this.

Second, that vase is all wrong. The arrangement's shape is all wrong. I ordered it for the subtle asymmetry in a modern vase, but I got off-kilter bud-vase arranging in a ginger-gar vase.

Third, I know flowers open as they age, but it just looks scrawny.

I guess that's what I get for trying a new florist... >:(

Standardizations

With our 'merican sensitivity to "difficult" math, you might think we'd be less reluctant to adopt some standards that would make our lives a little easier.  I'm talking about a conversion to the metric system.   Measuring in mL, cm, and g would take a little bit of work at first - some rewriting of recipes, some new traffic signs, and a couple generations who would internally translate mL back to cups.   Fine.   But the mark of fluency is the ability of think in a new language without internally translating.  We could get there.  Besides, there is a lot of appeal in powers of ten.  I love conversion factors more than most, but even I dig the quick conversion from grams to kilograms or millimeters to centimeters.  1 mi = 5280 ft. 1 gal = 128 oz. or is it 96? 16 c.?  And is a cup 8 oz?  See what I mean?  I know the answers to these, but go ahead - ask ten people on the street, and good luck.

Why the stubborn adherence to the arbitrary?  I mean, every other country in the world uses paper with a fixed aspect ratio; it just makes sense for enlarging/reducing.  Why do we have to make it difficult for ourselves with legal and letter?

I teach in metric because it's the standard of international science.  But I can only do so much to prompt the revolution.  Can I get some help here, please?

Originally drafted 7 July 2008

Falling Back

If I ever run for public office, my platform will be abolishing Daylight Savings Time. 

I'm quite serious.

It's 630p, but it looks like 1030p.  Which is doing nothing to help my Sunday-night-before-term-grades-are-due panic.  Never mind that everything with a clock was programmed to change two weeks ago.

Time Marches Ahead. ...or is it back?

[Insert Semi-Annual Rant on Daylight Savings Time Here]

Chasing Daylight

Attention, People Who Decide These Things:

Can we please do away with this daylight-savings farce? If there's ever anything that's truly outlived its usefulness, it's Daylight Savings Time.

Oh, sure, there are some crybabies who will claim, "but we get an extra hour of daylight in the summer!" or "but our children will have to go to the bus stop in the dark!" Suck it up, I say!

First off, Daylight Savings does not magically add hours of sunlight to the day. There's no astronomical solar voodoo going on - that hour of summer sun at 900p is given up by (read: robbed from) the morning. And I have to say, it just irks me when people say we get "an extra hour of sun". No we don't - count 'em up, it's still the same.

Second, if that extra hour of evening daylight is so great in the summer, why can't we have it all year round? It's getting dark at 430p now, it seems.

Third, as we approach the winter solstice, kids will again be walking to the bus stop in the dark. Funny thing, that angle of the earth's axis.

Fourth, the chore of resetting clocks is ridiculous. It's a completely unnecessary complication. Particularly this year, when DST lasted an extra week. Thanks, programmers everywhere, for making electronics like my car smart enough to change time on its own. Too bad your program was written before the DST date adjustment. And there's always the clock in your house or on your wrist that you forget, and you come across it four weeks later, have a fleeting moment of panic that you're late, only to have Father Time shout "psych!" People all across the country wake up an hour late or early, depending on the season, which does not foster good will towards DST, trust me.

I grew up in Indiana, one of the last states to adopt DST (RIP 2006, whyWhyWHY?). We never changed our clocks, ever, so it was a quaintly foreign concept to me. Our TV programs would shift by an hour, and times were listed as "700p, 800p in Michigan" - or maybe 800, 700 in MI. I don't remember, and don't feel like doing the math right now. My point is that I never had to reset a clock until I moved to CA, at age 24. Fall back, spring ahead, indeed. What the heck does that mean to a DST neophyte? Do we win an hour of sleep or lose it? I'll tell you what I've lost - time thinking about how superfluous it all is. When you really think about it, time - as it's been standardized in recent centuries, thank you railroads - is a largely artificial human construct. And here we persist in making time even more arbitrary by shifting things an hour for half the year because we can't leave well enough alone.

Let's get rid of DST and just keep our clocks the way they are next fall.




Footnote: Speaking of Indiana/Michigan, the area is called Michiana - no lie. But that sounds completely natural to my ears. On the opposite end of the state is Kentuckiana, which never fails to elicit a snicker from me. Do other states do this? Is the Florida-Georgia border called "Florgia"? (let's hope not) Was there a proposal for Indiucky (which may only be marginally sillier than Kentuckiana)? Wyodaho? There's the ArkLaTex and DelMarVa, which sound a lot sexier than they look. I saw a street sign in Tampa recently - Floribraska Street. Really? People, I can guarantee you that Florida and Nebraska do not share a common border. Pick one or the other - you cannot have both in this case. I won't have it.

Addendum to Footnote: Dang - I hate when I write something and then I find out later that it's already been done. Seriously, I've had that bit about Florgia written for months.

Weight

Several of my blogging friends have mentioned the weight of life lately, so I'll throw my thoughts into the mix.

This year has been... heavy, overwhelmingly so, for a number of reasons. I've lost my study hall, which means I've lost my second prep period, something I was promised when I interviewed three years ago. So I'm teaching six classes, five preps. (teaching colleagues everywhere gasp) Actually, when you factor in my once-a-week club preparation and my student lab assistants, I suppose you could say I have seven. At least I'm not working weekends any more... Anyhow, I'm nearly a month behind on grading - what with our new house, plus a bunch of responsibilities heaped on me the past couple of weeks. This year's theme is "suck it up," and I'm trying very hard to shoulder everything, but the cracks are beginning to show.

I'm annoyed that I'm being robbed of the joy of a new house: figuring out where everything belongs, rearranging furniture, hanging pictures, painting, meeting the neighbors. Instead, I get all the annoyances: the long search for something I need that could be in any given box in any given room, the inability to find something my husband has unpacked. I feel like a visitor in my house, rather than that sense of ownership that comes with organizing one's things in a new space.

I'm annoyed that this is my fourth year teaching high school, and it feels like my first again.

I'm annoyed that the very thing that keeps me teaching (and not chucking it all and going back to industry) is slipping through the cracks right now: the personal connections with students and my investment in their lives. This greatly troubles me.

I'm annoyed that the weight is beginning to manifest itself physically. I feel just-on-the-edge of a potential sore throat, and I'm supremely lucky that I haven't been taken down by some virus; I'm totally ripe for it, what with my lack of sleep. My shoulders are so tight, it's going to take weeks to unclench. I've been noticing my heart doing that little skip-a-beat thing it does when I'm under pressure.


This is not good.


This weekend will be filled with grading, but the mountain is steep. Of course, I'm not making any progress at this moment... Oh, who am I kidding? I'll be up past midnight regardless. May as well write on the internet for a bit.


All right, then. Back to work.

Five Things, Again

A friend and I worked at Biketoberfest in Daytona Beach yesterday, doing airbrush tattoos on people. I'm trying very hard to compartmentalize and never recall sights and sounds of the day, so let me just say that I've declared a moratorium on my interaction with the general public. I try to avoid the general public as best I can, but that's it. I'm done. My quota has been exceeded.


I'm exceptionally happy to report that all five things from the post below have been located! So now I have a new list:

Asset 001: Hiking Shoes
Known Aliases: Columbia Trekkers
Last Known Whereabouts: second-floor banister of former house; fruitless search for these rounded up missing Uncertainty book.

Asset 002: Blender
Known Aliases: The Kitchenaid Margarita Miracle
Last known Whereabouts: Under the sink of former house
Known Associates: other operatives such as the Food Processor, most of which have been traced

Asset 003: Knives
Known Aliases: none
Known Components: Block, five knives, and sharpening steel
Last Known Whereabouts: Kitchen counter of former house

Asset 004: #10 Envelopes
Known Aliases: none
Last Known Whereabouts: Office of former house

Asset 005: Toilet Paper
Known Aliases: Charmin, Cottonelle, many others
Last Known Whereabouts: Spotted in new house; presumed dead
Known Associates: Paper towels and napkins. May need to recruit more of its kin if it has indeed perished.


Other Top-Fives:

Fruit-Flavored Candy
1. Banana Laffy Taffy
2. Cherry Tangy Taffy
3. Passionfruit Tic Tacs
4. Peach Jolly Ranchers
5. Blue Raspberry Airheads


Chocolate Candy
1. Kit Kats
2. Dove Milk Chocolate
3. Valhrona 71% Cacao
4. Cote d'Or Milk Chocolate with Hazelnuts
5. World's Finest Chocolate Milk Chocolate Almond Bars

Seriously

What is wrong with people?

I Love Florida

< /sarcasm >

Item #3981 on the I-Wish-I'd-Been-
Briefed-On-This-Before-We-Moved-
To-Florida list: Pantry Pests.

Those who know me know that I am equal-opportunity when it comes to insectia. I hate them all. Seriously - I don't hate a lot of things, but I possess an all-consuming hatred for bugs. I never so much as set foot near the Entomology Department back in college (1). So, I'm really tired of throwing out flour, red spices, and chocolate. Turns out weevils have a palate for good dark chocolate and red chiles. Which, by the way, are surprisingly tasty together... We've had very few infestation episodes, if you will, and just thinking about the first (and worst) makes me want to barf. I nearly did while cleaning up after it. Anyhow, the spices went into the freezer after I found a jar of paprika filled with bugs *shudder*. And it's going to be a long time before I can stomach Raisin Bran again *mmmph*. I had to throw out some whole wheat flour and a box of chocolate sprinkles this weekend. I mean, it's just vile. Anyhow, I've had our stuff - flours, sugars - in ziploc bags, which just aren't working. Apparently, polyethylene is a staple of the weevil diet (in addition to my flour); they just bore right through.

Foul foul foul foul foul foul.

So I bought these completely-airtight canisters today, and that should be the end of that! I read loads of positive reviews for them on Chowhound and Epinions, but I was in Target this afternoon, where I discovered that the Michael Graves canisters are retread Click Clack containers. They fit entire bags of flour/sugar with room to spare. They're from New Zealand - admittedly part of their appeal. And - bonus! - they're cheaper than cooking.com's price (and shipping) on the originals, and I can drive them home today. Though I'd like to get more for cornmeal and other specialty flours. Maybe once I get my breadmaker back and have more impetus to replace my flours. By the way, I swear I don't work for this company. I'm just putting a lot of hope in them and their air-tight technology!

(1) where, it should be noted, at the university's annual Spring Fest, they would serve up mealworm stir-fry and chocolate-covered grasshoppers and other assorted six-legged "treats". *gag*


In other news, we're considering abandoning our landline to use our cell phones exclusively. The only people who call our house phone are from the phone company, to try to sell us more services we won't use. So, basically, we're paying $30 a month (mostly in taxes and other wonky fees) to give them this privilege. Is there any reason we shouldn't abandon it? It's just so twenty-first century.

Ah, People.

I forget how much time I spend avoiding the General Public. I teach at a small private school. A lot of the things I attend are small events, among friends. I live in a highly touristed area, but I generally avoid the main resort areas.

So it's a shock to the system to spend Independence Day at Universal CityWalk.


First, bringing a baby to a movie? What? At least they left the theatre when he or she started to get fussy, but when did it become de rigeur to even conceive of bringing the child to a movie in the first place? If one can't get a babysitter, one just doesn't go out! I know that may come off as harsh, particularly from someone who does not yet have children, but I certainly recognize that parenthood will bring with it some changes to our priorities, routines, and ways of doing things. Apparently, I'm the only one. Of course, I like to think my opinion is not entirely selfish - certainly if someone has their infant with them, they are not getting their full enjoyment out of the movie, and movie tickets are expensive enough as it is.

Second, if you're going to take pictures of fireworks, please turn your flash off. All you're doing is blinding the people around you, and your images will not turn out well at all.

Third, even at a theme park, the moving sidewalks are not rides. Continue walking, or else move over to the side, please.

Finally, Orlando doesn't have the strongest metropolitan personality, given its history, but it's unfortunate that tourists who visit may never see anything other than Disney and (heaven forbid!) International Drive. Disney is very good at what it does, but I-Drive might very well be a special circle of hell. It's painfully overprocessed, inorganic, and packaged tourist crap. I realize central Florida doesn't have much in the way of cultural experiences, when compared to, say, New York City or Seattle or Monterey, but they do exist. I promise.

Is It Summer Yet?

Why, yes it is. I'm finally done with my silly education classes. Yay!

Why, in this age of teacher shortages, is getting certified to teach such an annoying process? Particularly for career-changers. I don't understand. I would think it would be smart to streamline the process as much as possible, in order to attract more teachers from other fields; there are a lot of us out here, and we're getting discouraged. And, you know, maybe fast-track those of us with masters degrees and graduate teaching experience? But hey, I don't run a state department of education. Of course, if I did, I'd start exempting teachers who can pass the professional-education certification exam from taking 12 credit hours in undergraduate education courses. Or else take a good look at the validity of an exam that someone can pass, having never taken any education courses.


We got out early today, and as I walked out to the parking lot, I saw a Bloodmobile. I'm a regular donor, but I'm usually pretty borderline when it comes to iron; I've resorted to iron supplements ahead of blood drives at school. Anyhow, since this one caught me by surprise, I figured I'd easily fail that crit test. AGAIN. But! My little blood drop sank all the way to the bottom of the copper (II) sulfate solution on its own! They didn't even have to centrifuge it. For, like, the first time *ever*, I think. Sweet. :)


I'm off to find a lilliko'i chiffon pie recipe...

I'm Justifying My Attitude with Jet Lag

To the bookstore clerk at the campus where I have the distinct displeasure to sit through an introductory education class this week:


I spent six years at university, earning two degrees. I know full well how a !#@%ing college bookstore works, thankyouverymuch.

I am aware that a used book would have a bright yellow "USED" sticker on it; I just wanted to know whether you had any used books you hadn't yet put out on the shelf. I don't very much appreciate you crabbing to your coworker - in front of me - about how you've heard the same question twenty times this morning, either. Just take my credit card and overcharge me for my #&*% book already.

< /cranky >

Sand Crab

I fail to understand the appeal of the beachy vacation.

For one, I hate summer clothing. And I'm talking about a hate with the kind of vitriol most people reserve for crimes against humanity. I'm serious - I really despise summer clothes. This is a serious problem, considering I live in *Florida*. Actually, I don't mind some summery clothes, but it's casual summer clothes that I just can't abide. My body definitely requires tailoring and structured garments. Anything loose and gauzy just looks sloppy. I can get away with summerish work clothing, because the only truly summery thing about them is their color or print. They're not fundamentally different from anything I'd wear in fall or spring. But those kind of clothes just don't work for a tropical vacation - one that involves lazing around a pool or hiking in a rainforest or going to the beach.

I severely dislike shopping for summery clothes, too. Maybe if I were in my early twenties, six sizes smaller, and sparkly, I'd feel differently. But I'm none of those things. First, summer clothes do not accommodate traditional underpinnings, and well, some undergarments are just necessary for some people, is all I'm saying. Second, traditional summer clothes are remarkably unflattering on my body. Tank tops look ridiculous on me. Halter tops aren't much better. And strapless is really out of the question. So that leaves polo shirts and t-shirts, and sometimes, it's just too hot for either of those. Shorts are simply ghastly. I adore skirts, but I don't care for most casual skirts, and you can't exactly wear a skirt on a hike to a volcano anyhow. Capri pants are marginally acceptable, but again, if they're not tailored, they look ridiculous, and if they are tailored, they're not appropriate for more active endeavors. Of course, I'd rather be overdressed than underdressed, so at least that's working in my favor (for some situations). And then there's the abomination of swimsuits...! Actually, it's the trying on of swimsuits that kills me. My otherwise lofty self-esteem can only take so much of a beating at the hands of lycra and spandex.

And to be perfectly honest, I don't even really like the beach. Oh, I very much like the *idea* of the beach. Who wouldn't? The romantic notion of reading while nestled into a shady hammock tied between two palms while softly plumeria-fragranced wind gently embraces one's skin. Frosty drinks served in coconut shells decorated with paper umbrellas and pineapple wedges that taste of bright yellow. The sound of pounding surf and maritime breezes sifting through trees. A refreshing frolic in an ocean that is infinite shades of turquoise. Wiggling your toes into sand the texture of confectioner's sugar. Sounds fantastic, doesn't it? But the practicalities are positively awful. Gritty sand in places where sand does not belong. Blazingly infernal heat. Trying to read in blinding sunshine on a beach blanket with lumpy sand beneath that refuses to shift into a comfortable configuration. Greasy sunscreen melting into my eyes and scorching them, leaving me with watery eyes the rest of the day. Seaweed bits suspended in salt water, brushing up against my legs. Ew.

Now, I don't want to come off as too crabby and ungrateful. (Too late for that, Jen...) I mean, I'm truly excited for an opportunity to spend ten days in a little corner of paradise, with shave ice stands, photogenic waterfalls, macadamia-nut pancakes, and fresh flowers everywhere begging to be worn in my hair. But the whole excursion will pass with an underlying current of discomfort. Which sort of negates the whole point of a vacation, you know? Next summer, we need to take a vacation during which I can wear a turtleneck. Alaska. Perhaps Iceland? Or back to the Southern Hemisphere. Yes. The South Island of New Zealand? Now that's vacation perfection.

Bleargh

Four weeks of goodbye.

I am *exhausted* of it.



Oh, and I'm a bit pissy that here it is, my first days all year to be the first to the mailbox to retrieve mail, and we've received virtually no mail this week. It's not right.

On the flip side, summer finally began for me today. I'm looking forward to being a normally-functioning human being again.

Not in the mood to write much more than what you see. Tomorrow...

The Demise of the Palate

Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.