“The man who doesn’t relax and hoot a few hoots voluntarily, now and then, is in great danger of hooting hoots and standing on his head for the edification of the pathologist and trained nurse, a little later on.”
~ Elbert Hubbard
Oh, C.. Your continued faith in me, contrary to all evidence and experience, is so cute!
I knew, in my heart of hearts, that when we finally got a front desk officer back in the seat my workload would balance out. I believed it with my whole soul. The rack couldn’t tear this truth from me, I’d have gone to the bonfires with it.
The universe, it seemed, let me wallow in this conviction. And laughed and laughed.
Eighty background checks in three days, annual supervisor interview where I was told that if I were staying they would probably review my job description to see if I qualified for a raise (gee…thanks…), having a Rape and Aggression Defense metal training helmet fall on me in the supply room bursting a vein in my hand and wrist, student uniforms by the metric ton, and I came home to find a chunk of the lawn in front of our apartment complex dug out without explanation. Which is never anything but ominous.
I also found out about a few of the plans to replace me and the main one… Well, I have some major reservations, let’s put it that way. And not the this-job-was-my-life-for-years-and-someone-new-is-taking-my-baby reservations (as I’m sure I need not tell you that I’m grateful for what I’ve learned here, but I am more than ready to move on), honest to goodness I-don’t-think-the-person-they’ve-picked-can-do-it reservations. The next few weeks and months are going to be interesting. And stressful.
Spare me, Universe, until April. That’s all I ask.*
*(Which is of course a bald lie. Spare me until April, let us move to the East Coast for the summer, allow me to find a menial evening job that allows me to concentrate fully on freelancing and the MP, let us sell the car for decent money, let J. get the awesome summer internship, let us get to London without further incident, and don’t let our flat collapse around our ears in the meantime is all I ask. Not much, really. Hardly anything.)
“Their pretensions are naked and vulnerable and for that reason, to me at least, rather charming.” ― Julian Fellowes, Snobs
Make this your mantra, and all will be well.
Judging from social media, the entire fandom is just about ready to riot and tear Dark Lord Fellowes limb from limb, to which I say: really? I love Downton Abbey with the deep affection of pretty costumes, good actors, and clever writing, but the truth is, it’s a soap opera. A gorgeous, sumptuous soap opera in a marvelous setting with (usually) higher quality characters, but at this point I don’t think the soapiness can be denied.
Lest you think I’m being judgey and turning up my nose, never fear, I’m still sucking it down in gulps. I just find it odd (and sometimes morbidly hilarious) that story arcs, once finished are seldom referred to again – and when they are resurrected, the effect is sort of stilted. Lavinia’s father leaves Matthew a fortune, but Matthew is too guilt ridden to accept it. Until he’s miraculously not anymore. Ta da! Problem solved. Slightly more hilarious to me was Cora trying to ask Mary if she wanted any sex advice on her wedding day – lest we forget this wedding almost didn’t happen because she once took a lover. In soap operas, characters go from one crisis to the next and somehow life goes on and past dealings are forgotten – despite the fact that the disfigured man may be your cousin, you lose the use of your legs, you do battle with your siblings, you get left at the altar, your fiance blackmails you, and papa’s just lost the family fortune. Again. The disfigured possible cousin will literally vanish never to be seen of more, all the doctors will be wrong and you will walk again, you’ll still do battle with your siblings because drama is as permanent in this world as death and taxes, you’ll go on to start a column (Dear Downton Abb[e]y?), the blackmailing fiance goes the way of the cousin, and money will present itself in an improbable way.
Which means, cynically, that as ticked as I am that my favorite character was killed off, I doubt it will make much difference in the show. It’s formula is largely season contained crises with a cliffhanger at the end. It’s a successful TV model, there’s a reason soaps ran for decades, but I wonder how long it’s sustainable. Soaps are also dying, you may have noticed. But as long as the writing’s good (and Maggie Smith’s involved), I’ll feed the addiction.
With that in mind, we bring you a play by play of tonight’s episode:
“Lord Grantham dislikes medical detail.” No kidding. With dire consequences.
O’Brien, you scheming cow. Soapiness.
Thomas, keep your hands to yourself.
Ha! The proof is, literally, in the pudding! Pastry will out!
Isobel meddles so cheekily.
I still can’t tell exactly what got up the nose of Bates cellmate and the gaoler, they seem to be evil for absolutely no reason. Soapiness.
Being business like is being middle class – quelle horreur.
“I’ll get a baby out of you one way or another!” Words I hope never to hear a doctor say to me. Pompous ass.
Tom is truly a tame revolutionary now, an evening jacket at dinner? For shame, bolshevik.
Matthew wants to talk about his gentlemanly area, doesn’t have the words. Britishness.
Edith makes progress as a person, high five. Immediately smacked down by Robert who knows better than everyone, especially women and peasants. Snobbishness.
“Nobody could look at you and think that Mrs. Byrd.” *Snicker
Another love triangle in the kitchen, Daisy gets uppity. Soapiness.
“I hate to get news second hand.” First Dowager quip of the night.
And downstairs, Mrs. Patmore lays down the law. There’s only one queen bee in the kitchen, thank you very much. Soapiness.
Everyone knows that men with titles give better medical advice, you silly plebe doctor. Snobbishness.
Kidney souffle. That sounds absolutely dreadful.
“Or the footmen!” Carson the Butler, guardian of young boys’ virtue. Britishness.
The Dowager Countess is not put off by bodily functions – one wonders how her son turned out so boneheaded.
“The decision lies with the chauffeur.” This woman. I want to be her. Fabulousness.
“Isn’t a certainty stronger than a doubt?” And there we have the trouble with this particular class system summed up in one sentence.
It’s a girl!
Thomas, hands off. Soapiness.
Everyone’s happy. Brace yourself, that always means Fellowes is about to do something evil.
…And here it is.
Sir Phillip is a useless ass. Surprise.
Lavinia Swire gets a saintly death, the nicest character on the show dies horribly and much more realistically. Yep. About par for the course. Soapiness.
“But this can’t be.” Says the man who categorically refuses to look any sort of reality square in the face.
The baby cries – direct hit in the upper left quadrant of the torso.
“Is there anything we can do, Mr. Carson?”
“Carry on, Daisy.” Britishness.
Thomas is crying – good grief the evil guy is human.
Oh good, someone’s mad at Robert! We’re squarely on Team Cora here.
“Do you think we might get along a little better in the future?”
“I doubt it.” Oh Lady Mary, never change! Soapiness.
Matthew gets along with business, Mary shuts it down with a surprising amount of class given that she looks capable of ripping off her husbands face. Delicious self-restraint. Britishness.
Will I be shot for saying that I’m beyond ready for the Bates in prison storyline to wrap up?
Evil guard and evil cellmate twirls their mustachios evilly. Soapiness.
And Maggie Smith out-acts everyone by walking away from the camera slowly and suddenly looking old for the first time in the whole series. Second punch in the chest.
“There is little chance that meteorologists can solve the mysteries of weather until they gain an understanding of the mutual attraction of rain and weekends.”
~ Arnot Sheppard
Another hectic week, another near collapse…until Thursday when a reserve officer fell out of the sky (aka, the Sheriff’s Department) and took the front desk job! Praise Jupiter, Odin, and Quetzalcoatl! Already my life is substantially easier at work…although that doesn’t mean I got out of the office on time today. People do love to wait until five minutes until the end of the work week to get things done, don’t they? But at any rate, I have a pleasantly uneventful weekend lined with with research for the MP and a massively deep cleaning of the house. Here are your links, enjoy!
Even the greatest criminal mastermind can’t plan on everything.
If only I’d known, braiding my friends hair as a young teenager, that I could have tried this! And now J.’s making “I liked your hair shorter” noises. A history nerd can’t win.
This story is equal parts endearing and heartbreaking.
My stationary addiction continues without hope of cure.
Couture fashion fascinates me. You can say it’s over the top and impractical, and there are certainly designers who are, but haute clothes-making is an art that has dwindled in artisans to the point that couture houses are some of the few places you can find it. Not only that, but compare the massively priced but still cheap prom dresses of today to the creations of the House of Worth just a century ago – not even close. And those massive gowns were all done by hand; all the seams, the embroidery, the embellishment were individually created by someone without much use of machinery at all. We live in a world utterly removed from such work. Here’s a short vid that shows, even briefly, the handcrafting that goes into a Chanel gown.
Still don’t want kids for a few years, baby enthusiasts stand down, but come on. How adorable are these collections?! I had a whole Peter Rabbit tea set as a kid, bits and pieces of which are scattered about my parents’ house still, I’m sure. J.’s on the side of Pooh, I’m on the side of Potter – who shall win the battle to pick the decor of Someday Stormageddon’s nursey? Now accepting bets.
Weekly sheep. Seriously, I’m thinking of switching this thing up some, but I keep getting lazy.
Time for our occasional chat about the rules and regulations of living in a well ordered society – and how not to go about it. Today’s lesson: know what you’re talking about before you cause a ruckus.
Do not, for example, come into a police department foaming at the mouth about how incompetent police officers are for mistaking the letter “O” and a zero if you yourself are not positive you personally know the difference yourself. Because after making a scene, when we check the state database and it shows that you entered the wrong character in the university system – you look like an idiot and a real jerk.
It’s satisfying to fly into a righteous rage sometimes, but always double check that the fault doesn’t in some way lie with you before you go the way of the Hulk. There are times where it is absolutely appropriate to get assertive, and even aggressive, but I maintain not until you have thoroughly examined it to ensure that you truly did not contribute to the mess. Your indignation rather loses the moral high ground if you did.
“I should warn you, I’m awfully perky today. Don’t worry, I don’t think it will last.”
– C.
Minions! Well beloved minions, the crazy has passed! …Well, not entirely since my chances to eat are a bit sporadic, but nonetheless, healing has commenced.
The semester is up and running and despite the continuing drama of doing the work of three positions, my desire to throw myself from the rooftops has all but dissipated. Which isn’t to say busyness has ceased, I’m currently doing a crash course in legal contracts, I just signed up for a training course in blog, website, and online portfolio design, and I’m up to my elbows in spreadsheets. Happy as a clam now that all of this is scheduled out instead of falling on top of me at once.
And it’s not all work! The ever lovely Margot has invited me to the theatre with her tomorrow evening (dinner and black dresses required, of course). And then she got even more generous by offering me an extra ticket to an event where a well-known author will be speaking on the writing and publishing industry. Okay, that’s kind of work related but in the nicest possible way! Many thanks, lovely, for inviting me!
We’re – mostly – over the date change shock and have already found a number of shiny silver linings. I’m sort of putting on a good front for public viewing, as internally I’m still reeling, but like Deborah Kerr whistling to make her character brave, faking it does wonders at convincing one’s self.
Now, as a reward for getting through all that, here are your links!
There’s something about an impending move that makes you want to get rid of old knickknacks. And, apparently, be on the lookout for their eventual replacements. This one is even cuter and I covet it deeply for my work out reward jar.
J. could probably speak more to this, as he lived there for a couple of years, but there have been a lot of stories recently about the surgically obsessed culture of South Korea. Jezebel has a lineup and links to more of the pictures of patients – though I’m sure not a few are photoshopped to exaggerate results. There are links at the bottom of the story that are well worth a look in, especially the This American Life story. I can’t make up my mind if this sort of culture needs a major adjustment, or if it’s just more honest than most about the importance we all place on purely external properties…
There’s a lot of people with a lot of ideas about when/how/why/why not/if other people should have children. Including governments. Here’s an interesting article on how nations encourage or forbid their citizens to spawn. (Sidenote: seriously, Russia?)
This is genius. Overindulgence officially has no excuse. Drat.
“Well, look on the bright side, you know, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” “I’m allergic to citrus.” “Well, look on the bright side, you know, when life gives you lemons, swell up and die.” – Scott Adams, Dilbert
Shout out to Peregrine, she understands.
Sorry for the delay, well-beloved minions, but (as I might have mentioned) this week has been insane, and the Universe saved her biggest punch for the end. We got some rather surprising news – J.’s start date has shifted until September.
You may imagine the series of emotional shocks we’ve weathered in the last 24 hours, our internal seismographs are shot. We’re reeling a bit here at the Small Dog Headquarters, but already sneaky plans are formulating to combat the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. I’ll admit to a full half hour of hysterics, but never fear, it passed (many thanks to Peregrine, Mum and Dad). We’re bloody but unbowed. I’ll keep you updated. In the meantime, and in the spirit of Just Getting On With It, here are your links. I’m spending the weekend working on the MP and scheming to restore equilibrium, what are you up to?
I’m kind of excited that Jay Z is involved with the perpetually delayed Great Gatsby film, let’s celebrate by testing your knowledge of hip hop and the Jazz Age.
Here are two NYT Magazine articles I enjoyed this week. Tell me your thoughts! I particularly loved the second article, but it does come with a trigger warning for sexual crime.
Downton Abbey is back, and the drama is alive and well! Here is the Evil Overlord himself in a fun interview where we get some insight into the inspiration behind Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham – aka, my spirit animal.
Here’s the weekly sheep. I dunno, I’m sort of getting bored with them, I think it might be time for a new creature for a new year? What say you, minions? Sound off in the comments!
“Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood… Make big plans; aim high in hope and work.” – Daniel Burnham
What have I been doing, you ask? Well, inquiring minion, as it so happens today I:
– Hired nine people, and outfitted them with gear
– Fired three
– Put two months’ worth of records into their proper databases
– Spent my lunch break working on the Mysterious Project!
– Fixed a major problem with our storage area
– Organized a last minute series of tasks for a training event
– Wrangled the office of IT and won
– Processed raises for worthy student employees (the unworthy ones are thrown to the lions)
– Cleared out my inbox
– Performed triage on a breakdown in Federal and local program communication
– Fingerprinted a significant chunk of the School of Social Work
On the other hand, dinner wasn’t happening. Many thanks to my fabulous godparents for the gift card that fed us this evening.
Here’s the thing, as awesome as I feel typing all that out, the truth is the pace I’m currently sustaining is only possible because I know I’m leaving in a couple months and because I got a double shot in the arm from the new year and the MP. The first week of the term is rough, kittens, there are no two ways about it.
Pity my replacement, she’s going to be thrown into the deep end.
Chocolate. Chocolate and enthusiasm power us through until March.
Academe, n.: An ancient school where morality and philosophy were taught. Academy, n.: A modern school where football is taught.
~Ambrose Bierce, The Devil’s Dictionary
Dear me, I think the semester has started.
The evidence: lines out the door, barely a third of my To Do list done (and it’s length growing exponentially), swarms of student pin-balling around campus in various states of befuddlement, calls from hysterical parents, and no lunch break.
Normally this would feel either overwhelming or at least a bit irritating, but it’s amazing what the prospect of London and working on Mysterious Projects can do for a girl. Once she makes it through the midday “Where is my bloody chocolate bar?! What New Year’s diet?!” episode anyway.
“The really idle man gets nowhere. The perpetually busy man does not get much further.” – Sir Heneage Ogilvie
Just a quick batch of links for you this week, ducklings. I’ve spent the past three days at work scrambling to get a multitude of projects done, and have yet more projects to do this weekend. Farewell, vacation, we hardly new ye!
I’m rather baffled that this is a thing – the years I spent with my mouth being forcibly rearranged have not yet left my memory. They say beauty is pain (I say they’re not doing it right, but whatever), but I still think this is a silly trend.
I’m also baffled that this is a thing too. Granted I’ve spend time, energy, votes, and effort keeping a lot of people (politicians, total strangers with breeding opinions, etc.) out of my uterus. So, throwing a party to give people a tour strikes me as a bit weird – but I’m not exactly child friendly. What’s the verdict, kittens?
“People need revelation, and then they need resolution.” -Damian Lewis
I like resolutions, I just don’t always like New Year’s resolutions; anything with a culturally built in expectation of failure sort of annoys me. But every year I make them – in more recent years I’ve kept them extremely well. #humblebrag
A format I came across for resolutions that I really liked was by Carly at College Prep: she divided her coming year up by monthly goals and aspirations to work on one at a time. Much nicer than listing all the things you want to work on, tackling them all at once, and collapsing in a heap in early February (likely stuffing yourself with chocolate cake, skipping that class you signed up for, and whipping yourself. Literally or metaphorically, depending on your resolutions – no judgement here). Since 2013 is going to be a bit touch and go, months aren’t quite feasible but quarters definitely are, so here’s what I’m thinking:
Q1: Work
As weird as it is to think about, I’ve got about two months left here at good old Nowhereford, Noneofyourbusinessshire University police. I’ve learned a lot and am grateful for my what I’ve done here, but I am excited for new challenges and opportunities – one in particular that I’ll talk about soon! My goal is to finish up my job well, leave it in a better state than I found it, and throw myself into new jobs with enthusiasm and and energy.
Q2: Document
We’re moving in Spring, which will require a lot of organization, creativity, and good humor. I’ve jumped continents before and believe you me, it’s fun but it’s work! But I still want to make an effort to be better about taking pictures, writing things down, blogging, and keeping in touch with people in the midst of the chaos. Apart from anything else, it should provide you minions with a lot of amusement watching us scramble. We live to serve.
Q3: Writing
Once we’ve settled, I’m jumping into writing again. We’re still unsure of what my work status will be in Britain, I may only be allowed to be the National Gallery’s latest unpaid (but eager!) volunteer, but so be it. I’m going to relearn how to pitch myself as a writer to US publications, print and online, work hard on this mysterious opportunity I’ve alluded to, and bloody find other chances. They are out there and for the first time in a long time, I can stalk them. Aggressively.
Q4: Travel
Travel makes me happy; seeing new places or even revisiting old ones, hearing new words, trying new foods, just getting up and going somewhere is like a cool breeze for the soul. My soul could use some airing out. Yes, yes, I know. “Selfish, C., you were just in London this past summer!” Fine. I’m greedy. Gluttonous, even. Sue me.
Looking ahead to 2013, I have so much in store I’m almost dizzy thinking about it – and if I’m honest, a bit nervous to see if everything will work out, as my optimism has been rather strained over the last year. But I believe in tenacity and how far it can get you if you grit your teeth and keep pushing for what you want, as long as you keep grinning. I can’t wait to see where we get!
Small Dog Syndrome 
