Argh, and other sounds of frusteration

27 02 2010

Steve’s at work this morning (stupid 6 week rotation) so I was looking forward to hogging the bed.
Bailey, however, had other ideas and decided that 630am is TOTALLY the best time to chase Kali up and down the stairs.
And once I’m up, I’m up, so I’ve been up for three hours.
ON A SATURDAY.

Anyway, I saw this as an opportunity to work on one of the gazillion projects I’ve had festering: Photos from Europe, printed on 8×10, framed and artfully hung in the blank staircase.
Figuring that 8×10 is larger than say, 4×6, I uploaded photos and went to place my order.
Photo-processing-for-pick-up, much like Bailey, had other ideas and decided to CROP my photos rather than adjust them to make them fit in a 8×10.
It’s not for lack of resolution, believe you me…
So, after going through photos, picking out twelve I liked, uploaded, cropping and preparing to order, there’s an hour of my life I won’t get back.

This, after yesterday, when a co-worker gave me a PDF that he wanted 25 pages extracted from (no big) and footers altered (yeah, I can do that).
Except the document was password protected.
No page removal. No copy/paste. No export.
So I printed it, made a new PDF.
And then the “fix” (make a white box over the unwanted data) wasn’t working, except for when I cursed and threatened to throw my PC out of a 5th story window.

My new project is retyping sewer specifications.
It takes 4+ pages to say, “We’re not paying you for more work then we’ve agreed upon, unless we agree… return shit to the way it looked before you dug it up….Install at your own risk…etc.”

This week’s been rough.





Stephanie, Houses Don’t Feel…

24 02 2010

Somedays it seems like my anthropomorphism* towards places is overwhelming.
For instance, six years later, I still think about the house I grew up in… hoping it’s being treated well and that it’s happy.
I know that homes are inanimate, but my belief system leads me to understand that everything has a purpose/feelings.
Yeah, yeah, I know.

ANYWAY, Buffalo (proper) is pretty much a dying city. Empty homes, desolate lawns, substandard living conditions; you heard about Extreme Home Make Over, right?
I subscribe to a number of  why-does-this-happen?!?! newsletters/websites where various people highlight the blight and ask why.
And in making myself all boo-hoo and sad, I read these posts and look at the homes/business that once were and also wonder why.
So, over at Broadway-Fillmore Alive! this video was posted:

It just breaks my heart.
No, really.
I see these homes and I think about the history involved… kids learning how to walk on their wood floors, board games played in living rooms, angry teenagers stomping up stairs, the excitement of a first home, birthday parties, baths in clawfoot tubs, pianos in the den with singalongs, love letters written in bedrooms… if the walls could talk!
Now, I know houses don’t feel, but I still can’t help but think of an older home smiling, wanting to help, feeling proud that it’s doing it’s job: keeping the family safe, dry, warm… akin to “The Giving Tree”.
And I just imagine them feeling sad, left behind, lonely, hurt when the family moves or is evicted. Or when his window eyes are broken. And his door boarded up. And getting The Red Mark of Death**

Photo by David Torke (www.fixbuffalo.blogspot.com)

www.fixbuffalo.blogspot.com

Yes,  I understand we can’t save all the abandoned homes/buildings… it doesn’t help me to feel any less sad for the houses… who can’t feel….

* I’ll save you the trouble: the act of giving human qualities to objects/places/things that aren’t human. e.g. Houses don’t “feel”; polar bears don’t “talk”
** Housing speak for condemned





Om nom nom nom

22 02 2010

It’s Monday.
The alarm clock buzz/beep has been incorporating itself into my dreams, making for groggy/confusing mornings. Ugh.
Oh, and there’s ANOTHER icky afternoon commute storm coming our way and Weatherbug just started it’s “OMG FREEZING RAIN!” blink. Double ugh.

But you know what makes me feel better?
Food!

Whilst surfing the webs, I came across a new food site (closed the window, sorry) which publishes “5 Dinners” on Monday.
Looking through the archives, I noticed someone had posted chipped beef (A.K.A. “Shit on a Shingle”) which while ranking VERY high on the comfort foods listing, is also one of the meals I can make from scratch without a recipe and without measuring cups. Mom taught me how to make this when I was very young. Typically, I serve mine on toast, sometimes mashed potatoes (boxed, pft, who do I look like, Betty Crocker?). Grandma and Grandpa served theirs on Eggos; at dinner.

Thinking about it, I was trying to figure out what else I can make from scratch with little to no assistance.

  • Meatloaf
  • Chicken Noodle Soup (cheater!)
  • Salmon/tuna cakes (though it’s been a while)
  • Pizza (the rise-your-own-dough-kind)
  • Buffalo chicken wing soup
  • Buffalo chicken wing dip
  • Stuffed pepper dip
  • Crock-pot-roast (1 bottle BBQ sauce, 1 bottle stout beer…)

Well, I’m sure there’s more, but we’re working with limited neuron capacity here.

Often, I’ll find a recipe to use as base and will pretty much make it my own…

So, snowed/sleeted/rained in reader(s), what can you make from memory?





Kick in the Pants?

20 02 2010

Back in the pre-aughts, I dated a Gentleman*, who wasn’t misogynistic, but certainly had critical ideas about women’s places in society.
He was The Boyfriend Who Never Slept With Me, which at the time was end-of-the-world, however in retrospect, it’s one less person to contract HPV from.
To say that TBWNSWM was particular would be the same as saying he was peculiar. He drank more milk then any human being I’ve known since then. His primary source of nutrition came from chicken fingers/nuggets and orange breakfast rolls. He watched movies with reckless abandon. His roommate was hot. While he wouldn’t close the deal with me, he did teach me how to calm the f-down when fooling around and the pleasure of multiples. HI MOM!
Anyway, through the circle of social networking, I found out he got married (more of a “Comment by someone with the last name Reznor? I dated a Reznor! Could it be?” click click click “Spouse: Trent Reznor. I’ll be damned.”), she is, or was, pregnant and they are/had a girl.

Cosmic kick in the pants for being so eccentric around women?
I don’t think eccentric is the correct word here, but I’m running out of synonyms for “weird”.

*Capitalized as the trigger for this post came from listening to the Afghan Whigs CD of the same name…. of which he introduced me to.





P.A.F.

19 02 2010

Wednesday:
Brought in a 2-liter of ginger ale, put my name on it and put it  in the fridge.

Yesterday:
Heard a distinctive “psszzttt” from the kitchen.
Walked in and saw someone over by the water cooler (which is behind a wall partition, away from the fridge). This someone would be the same someone who helped themselves to my salad dressings, also with my name on them.

Today:
“To Whom It May Concern: Keep helping yourself to my soda. I’ll find another way to deal with my upset stomach. <3, Stephanie”

Yes, it is Passive Aggressive Friday





Wordless Wednesday: Hunter Blue a.k.a. Chicken Delicious at Mimi’s

17 02 2010

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(2nd and 32nd, NYC)

http://www.youtube.com/user/Spiritman5





Wordless Wednesday: City at Night

17 02 2010

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(from room 4005 at the Sheraton, Manhattan)