Author Archives: Rinjava

Current Food: Peppermint tea

I’ve been feeling like a storm cloud when I get home lately. And not like the cute kind of storm cloud – like one that would be featured in a Reading Rainbow book “The Littlest Stormcloud” – no, like a pissed off one that just wants to go to bed.

Getting up this week has hurt. Lots to do at work, which is good and bad. Good because I hate when the day dribbles by, bad because it’s too much “lots to do”. All or nothing.

Despite my best efforts and intentions, I think I’m still not very good at decompressing when I get home from a busy day. So when I get up in the morning, I feel like I’ve just had a nap and it’s time to go back to work again. Ugh. And it’s been dark, and really cold, and really rainy, and really windy every morning. Ugh x 2. And I keep forgetting to have a shower at night, so I have to get up 20 minutes earlier than if I had remembered. Ugh x 3. And I’m biking in, so really cold, rainy and windy means it takes me an extra 10 minutes to ride in. Ugh x 4.

I guess it’s explicable after all.

It’ll be good to work from home tomorrow. There’s nothing like starting your day by picking mushrooms in Animal Crossing to turn that frown upside down! 🙁 —> 🙂

I’m the kind of person who’s likely to jump up and do things while movies are playing. I also watch what is probably a disproportionate number of subtitled movies. And apparently, I’m also a little slow. Here’s an example of the kind of thing that happens to me a lot (no, seriously, a lot):

Watching extra footage on “Trembling Before G-d”, interviews in Hebrew. I’m watching, I’m watching, I get up to go boil water for tea. I get to the kitchen, and after a couple of minutes (really, minutes) I realize I can’t understanding what they’re saying anymore. Return to the couch, read the subtitles. Kettle boils, jump up to pour water, again, realize as I’m pouring that I’m (for some unfathomable reason) unable to understand the interview again. Return to the couch.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Seriously, all the time. We were watching “Hero” and the subtitles cut out right near the end (it was a pirated copy we picked up in Malaysia). I think I watched for a good minute before I figured out why I couldn’t understand the dialogue anymore: “Is the audio still playing? Do I speak Mandarin and suddenly forgot? Did I go deaf?”

Sheesh-tastic.

As part of a truly lovely weekend, CPwr and I went to the park to play catch today.

My shoulder’s been bothering me lately – a result of stress at work + typing on a non-ergo keyboard. It was aggravated by playing catch (I throw like a girl – YEAH!), so I whipped out the old heating pad and sat down on the couch for some soothing warmth.

dum dum dum, reach back to adjust the pad on my neck – BA! Fur!
Turn to my right. Who’s sitting on the back of the couch *right* behind my head, but Melchie. Apparently we’re sharing the heating pad. Her face is right beside my head (“yo, whassup.”), and her butt is snugged up against the back of my shoulder and the heating pad.

So as I sit here, I adjust my the heating pad periodically and she keeps giving me nasty looks. I’ve had to explain it to her in very simple terms – the heating pad is for mummies first, kitties second. Sheesh.

You’re whiling away your sunday evening, reading Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy aloud, snuggled up on the couch. Your cat “Melchie”, has grown tired of perching on CPwr’s knees and starts walking on the furniture…

She does this a lot. *A lot*. We’re having dinner, and suddenly we notice there is a cat curled up behind the pepper mill (she’s stealthy). The thing is, Melchie is also a klutz. She’ll roll over to show you her belly, only to fall off the couch. So in addition to getting her off the table, you’re also making sure no wine glasses or salad bowls get knocked off in the process.

This evening, Melchie has been behaving herself, curled up on a sweater on the armchair opposite us. Then she decides to go for a little stroll across the side table. Where we have a candle – a lit candle. Holding our collective breaths and thinking “Could she be that stupid?”, we watch in shock/horror, as she swishes her tail through the flame. As she jumps down, her poor mummy (me) sees that there is a spark on her tail! My kitty’s on fire!

Well, not *on fire*, the spark went out as she wooshed through the air to the ground, but good lord! I jump up, go into the kitchen and soak my hands to wet down her tail – which is still hot by the way. And now has a big clump of beeswax in it. But did my precious little kitty care about any of this? Nope. She was more excited that she had got me into the kitchen and started in on the “feed me” noises – walking back and forth between the cupboard and her dish. It’s like ‘dumbass, you were just on fire! see this wax on your butt, THAT’S NOT NORMAL.’

Good lord indeed.

I went grocery shopping this morning. I knew that I was just not going to be able to write a presentation without getting some mueslix in me first. I went to PriceChopper, because it’s close, cheap, has the mueslix I like, and means I can walk down the street with CPwr on his way to the streetcar stop.

While there, I wanted to pick up some sundry extras…but trying to be an “ethical shopper” ( A few examples:
-bananas. Well, I’m at PriceChopper, so they’re not organic. Strike One. And, if the head of the International Network for the Improvement of Banana and Plantain (INIBAP) is to be believed, bananas are going to be gone in 10 years. Just feeling weird about bananas these days as a result.
-berries. I’ve read ‘Reefer Madness’. And these berries are from the States, and I don’t remember which of the producers don’t suck ass for labour standards. No cart for you.
-yogurt. Again, not organic, and not local. So, since I don’t feel like sucking back growth hormones from the teats of sad little cows, I think I’ll pass.
-bagels. Having had a lot of fresh bagels lately, it’s really hard to convince yourself to buy the bag o’ bagels. To be all geeky: “How did the machines know what Tasty Wheat tasted like. huh?. Maybe they got it wrong.” That’s what those bagels taste like to me – chewy and synthetic.
-packaging, plastic, and pesticides, oh my…

So this is how the hippies go crazy. If you open your mind to a few basic principles of living (“My eating shouldn’t involve exploiting people”, “The second ingredient in all my food shouldn’t be ‘sugar'”, “I shouldn’t be wiping my butt with brand new trees smothered in bleach”, “I don’t need my cookies individually packaged inside of a box inside of a bag, inside of a…”), it’s pretty easy to find yourself sobbing on the floor of a supermarket aisle.

Which I am not – I buy my Mueslix, and make a plan to bike to the market on the weekend for some locally-produced, organic goodies. Self-righteous? Oh heck yes.

..is my laptop this morning.

My stupid 5pm meeting today got cancelled. Which is good. But it means that I’m wearing fancy clothes, not biking, and bringing my laptop to work for nothing. Which is bad. Except that I have all the songs that are ripped to my laptop. Which is good.

If only the songs didn’t contain potassium benzoate…

People can suck in such a royal way.
I haven’t been leered at (verbally) in a while, so I’d sort of forgotten it happens. But then today… I’ve just successfully exchanged a tshirt, I’ve got a copy of the paper, and I’m walking my lunch special ($4.25 for soup and sandwich) back to work – feelin’ fine. Then on the way, some scuzzmonkey walks past me and right as he’s passing me says something leery under his breath, like “niiiice” or something.
Fuckity weasels.
It’s like they know too, that I would just about punch him in the face if I had realized he was talking to me *before* I was five metres away (I walk fast). At which point I’m filled with rage. Why doesn’t this happen while they’re walking towards me so I can tear them apart and take back the power?