Tag: Humor

Conspiracy. Theories. (An Interlude)

“I hate committees.  I much prefer a nice clean chain of command.”
“Only if you’re at the top of it…”
…”Well, yes.”
– A Civil Campaign,
Louis McMaster Bujold

After Panic and Paranoia’s inelegant exit yesterday afternoon, I managed to calm down and step back a bit from the situation.  Freak outs aside, there were several things that didn’t add up.

Now, it would seem that Chief did decide (rather grudgingly) to let me transfer as it was a good opportunity, and Dr. F had followed his supervisor (who for lack of any other name, we will call Salzburg) to the letter in making sure that the transfer was in keeping with university policy at large, and it’s narrower hiring-freeze-bound interpretations.  So both sides had agreed, the person approving it all had agreed…when suddenly the Dean swooped down from nowhere and put everything on hold and demanded to meet with me.

And the question that I keep going back to, is why on earth is a Dean descending to personally look into the buying and selling of  secretaries far beneath his normal purview?

Same principle

Theory the First – I know, both from student experience and updated frequently by Kiki, that the Dean and Dr. F do not get on well at all.  There seems to be an embarrassing amount of workplace territorial-ism that goes on betwixt them.  Dr. F dislikes the higher ups making decisions about his department, which often go against international and visa law, without even consulting him.  The higher ups don’t like an entire department (consisting of four full time advisors…which to their minds constitutes potential revolutionary numbers) answering to the Federal Government instead of the University.  This animosity has shown itself in strange ways across the years.  In this case, Dr. F has applied for exceptions to the freeze to fill his empty position and has been repeated turned down.  But suddenly he discovers a way around it that does not answer to the Dean.  Could this be a revenge ploy?

Dear, dear! How silly of you to think you could make those decisions without me.

Theory the Second – In our office, Lt. Figaro insists on appearing to be the one making final hiring decisions about the student employees under him, even though it’s Red and Lauper who open the position for hiring, interview candidates, and make the initial offer to their chosen ones.  Figaro still insists on meeting with them, normally to talk about nothing for an hour, before releasing them and congratulating himself to the entire department on discovering such a nice student employee.  One of the last girls we hired had to listen to him talk about a family member who breeds snakes for 45 minutes, before reemerging with a shell shocked expression on her face, which took all of us collectively to remove by assuring her was more or less business as usual.  Could this be a higher up version of this sort of thing?  Does the Dean wish to appear to be the person who fills the gaps in his organization?

"What are you doing?" "...Sneaking."

Theory the Third – Kiki, my ear to the ground over at ISS, has passed on an interesting tidbit.  Apparently, after Chief agreed, Salzburg called up Dr. F and told him so but that the Dean had declared, “…but I’m not going to give her to you [ISS].”  The emphasis there is interesting.  Kiki also says that the Dean has at least 5 unfilled full time secretarial positions in the various departments beneath him.  Could he be trying to move me into a department of his choosing instead of ISS?

Alright, my loves, weigh in.  Do any of these seem plausible?  Any other theories?  No matter how I try to look at it, a Dean sticking his fingers into this just doesn’t make sense for anything besides personal reasons.  The whole thing smells of politics.  The problem of course, is that I’m more a less a pawn in all of this and no one is giving me any hints about which square I should move to.  Monday needs to hurry up and get here (words no mortal will ever speak again).

Something Has Happened…(Part 2)

“Pain-”
“And Panic-”
“Reporting for duty!”
– Hercules, Disney

I told Susie of the offer, that it was a good one and that I wanted to take it, that it would come with a raise (which Dr. F said it would) and advancement to a manager position.  She was on my side, said it sounded great, and approached Chief with it, who it seemed was also on board.  Things were moving forward.

Then, suddenly, something stalled in the works.  Trouble is, no one can seem to pinpoint where.  Dr. F said that he had gotten approval to pursue a transfer of departments, but the approval never came.  He then called me up in a frenzy asking what I had told Susie originally, as I’d clearly made some mistake because HR seemed to think that I’d be completely quitting the university, and if so, they could not rehired me.  I talked to Susie, she verified that I’d said that I merely wanted a transfer of departments and they’d understood so.

But more telling, he also backed away from the question of salary telling me emphatically that he had never discussed that with me.  He had, by the way.  He then told me that this confusion was my problem and that I had to find a way of handling it because he wasn’t going to get involved.

Anger showed up right quick.  “What the hell is he saying?  We did everything he told us to, after he’d confirmed that the transfer had been OKed!”

My Panic really looks like this. No, really. It's weird.

“That’s it!  We’re in the soup!  We’re going to lose our job, either of them!” Panic wailed.

“There might just be a misunderstanding,” Hope said with false cheeriness.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Practicality snapped.  “It’s clear Dr. F has ticked off his higher ups somehow.  They wouldn’t work with him to get an exception to the hiring freeze to fill his empty position, and now that he’s found a way around it they’re miffed.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s reneging on his offers to us,” Ambition said slowly.  “We took his offer and acted on it in good faith, after he assured us that if we could get the department to approve it, the transfer would go through.”

“This whole organization is riddled with issues like this,” Paranoia hissed, hugging the walls, eyes darting for potential escape.  “Panic’s right, we’re collectively sunk.  He turned on us rather than go to bat for us.  He turned on us!”

“I told you guys!  I told you!  No one ever listens to me, and look where it’s got you,” Guilt crowed, practically dancing a vindictive jig.

“Shut up,” Practicality growled, pacing the floor.  “You’re no help.  There’s been a mis-communication somewhere.  What has been said that has been misconstrued?  And by whom?”

“It’s not communication, it’s politics,” Panic said, shivering.  “Dr. F isn’t exactly the darling of his division, this probably isn’t about us at all.”

“Sounds to me,” put in Reason, “that he probably only got verbal approval to do what he did.  So he offered us the job, told whoever had approved that move, who told whoever was above that, and they said no.  Which screws up the whole process.”

Small Dog is confused. And scared.

“Verbal doesn’t mean anything!  If it’s not in writing it’s not worth a rattle,” Paranoia said frantically.

“Well, that’s certainly obvious now.  So, what happens to us?” Ambition asked.

The next day, Susie pulled me aside and gave me a heart-stopping piece of news.  The final answer was “No.”  It had come down from the Dean himself, and the Dean wanted to meet with me on Monday.

AUGHHHH!” Panic and Paranoia clutched each other only long enough to scream and both ran from the room.

(Monday: Part 3, The Interview)

Something Has Happened… (Part 1)

“One advantage of talking to yourself is that you know at least someone is listening.”
– Franklin P. Jones

…and it seems utterly surreal.  Last week, Dr. F called me up and asked me to go to lunch with him.  Dr. F, as a refresher, was my boss for three years as a student when I worked in the International Student Services office on campus.  It was a fantastic place to work, I was sorry when I graduated and was forced to give it up (although I was otherwise perfectly done with university for the time being).  Maetanikei works there, as does Dr. S, whose favorite pastime is to pull me into his office and talk England.  I loved the people, the office vibe, and most importantly the work: helping international scholars navigate the incomprehensibly tortuous immigration and visa laws.

Power Lunch.

And suddenly, munching on Subway sandwiches, Dr. F offered me a job.

Completely out of the blue.  I choked a bit on my lettuce while my brain scrambled to catch up as he went on.  He asked me to find a way to transfer departments, as the ISS office hasn’t had a full time office manager since the University put the kibosh on all hiring, and apparently they are suffering.  The nature of the hiring freeze is such that transfers can be allowed (with sufficient groveling) though, and so he made me an official offer, as long as I could work it out with the Police Department.

As you may imagine, I spent the weekend in a fog of panic, excitement, and confusion.  I felt that accepting was the right decision, but that didn’t mean it would be easy to inform people of my decision.  The only times I’ve left jobs was when I graduated, or when Dad took us off to a foreign country!

Unfortunately it took less than an hour after lunch for the specter of Corporate Loyalty and his hired goons to find me and work me over and by the time I got home that night I was in psychological knots.
“Hennessy will have to take over lots, and so will Wise,” I thought to myself, wringing my metaphoric hands.  “I’ll be leaving them completely in the lurch.  I’m an awful person for even considering this!  Angst angst angst!”

Like you've never done it.

At the same time, Ambition hovered slyly on my peripherals.  “Who knows where J. and you will be in a year?  An office manager and supervisor is a lot higher up on the hierarchy than an entry level secretary, after all.  Your resume and skill set would be upped tenfold.  Any future job searches would be vastly enhanced with such credentials.  You are an idiot for even thinking twice.”

“Well, yes, but…,” murmured Niceness, ” although we’ve had our managerial issues with some department decisions and projects, I have no desire to put them in a bind.  Especially the ladies who would have to take on my responsibilities in addition to their own, as my absence could not be filled until the freeze is lifted by unfeeling, un-hearing HR gods.”

“Um, hello!” snapped Practicality.  “We’ve had multiple responsibilities taken away from you this year, and not had a lot to replace them with.  We’ve also streamlined lots of the stuff you do to cut down on unnecessary time being wasted doing simple things.  We’re a good employee, and our current department is not in the position to offer us a raise, promotion, or manager’s job in the near future.  This is a genuine opportunity, kid.”

“Yes, but…”

“Not to mention,” put in my Sense of Nobility, “it’s work you know you enjoy and feel strongly about, yes?  You feel as if you’re doing something important there.”

“Whose side are you on?” demanded my Guilt.

“Truth, honor, justice, and right,” answered Nobility smugly.

“You’re no help,” Guilt mutter and turned back to face Ambition and her lot.   “You don’t understand how badly I feel about some of this.  Not that I have the offer, but what its effect is going to be on my friends and co-workers.”

Sympathy finally perked up.  “We get it, Guilt.  We do.  But honestly, we feel that the benefits outweight you.  Maybe when you’ve had a lie down, this won’t seem quite the drama you think.”

“To put it nicely,” said Practicality, “you’re outvoted.”

“I’m heavier!” Guilt yelled in desperation.

“You could stand a diet,” Ambition muttered under her breath, after which a chilly silence descended as Guilt turned up an injured nose and stalked off to a corner to sulk.

Can I get a word in edgewise, please?

I, me, C., paced a while longer thinking hard.  To everyone’s credit, they managed to stay quiet.  Even when I tried to reexamined each emotion or get a second opinion from my Conscience, which was oddly quiet on all of this.  In fact the only input it had was, “Is this a matter of life and death?  Morality?  Ethics?  No.  You’re on your own here, C.  If you needed to consult me you would have done so.  This is a purely mortal, terrestrial, uninteresting topic, not my department.  I’m going back to pondering the Universe.”

Finally I threw my shoulders back and announced I’d come to a decision.  Guilt huffed in the corner but refused to turn around.  Ambition smiled benevolently, while Sympathy patted Guilt on the shoulder but gave me her attention.  Even my Sense of Nobility was twiddling her thumbs, the picture of innocence, hypocritical thing!

“We’re doing it.”

Cheers and acclaim, even from those who hadn’t been consulted.  Guilt sniffed and muttered something about how we’re listening to her less and less.  I let her wander off.  No doubt when the day of transfer actually comes I’ll give her a holiday to nag me about what I could have forgotten to train Hennessy on, but Practicality is right.  She’s outvoted.

Tiny twinges of guilt aside, I was going to do it.

(Tomorrow: Part 2, Pain and Panic)

Words That Bug Me, And Will Now Bug You

“I personally believe we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.”
– Jane Wagner

We all have word pet peeves, times when people use phrases incorrectly, insert words that don’t actually mean what they think it means, or when society at large is responsible for corrupting a word’s usage.  I probably take my particular pet peeves too seriously, but it cannot be helped.

“Ironic” – which does not mean unfortunate, coincidental, silly, funny, aggravating, or any of the other things Alanis Morrissette can now be blamed for teaching us to think it means.

An excellent example of common modern usage.

“Ye”- as previously mentioned, anytime you see a sign showing “Ye Olde [something], you’re not actually looking at a “y” but at an Old English character called “thorn” which makes a “th” sound.

This confusion is somewhat understandable as it is most commonly found in England where several linguistic invasions have made the language something of a puzzle for most who try to learn it as a second language.  Pear, pair, and pare, you try explaining that one.  Or the reason knight isn’t spelled night, when in other words a “gh” produces and “f” like in laugh.  Or why, depending on where you’re from, you may spell civilisation as civilization.  Or why English doesn’t really have rules, only exceptions.

First the Celts came to Britain, after possibly conquering another group of people who were there first, and as far as we know didn’t have much in the way of writing.  There are some hatch mark symbols carved in stone but these seem to have been a clumsy, tedious sort of way of keeping track of things and so they decided instead to rely on memory which they trained to fantastic levels (and where did you leave your keys this morning?).  Then came the Romans who brought Latin and other previously unknown practices (see Decimate below).  But then their empire, as it had become by this time since they’d given up most pretensions to a republic, caught a nasty case of “The Collapsings” and the legions were recalled from Britain, leaving the Romanized population unprotected and understandably miffed.

I think it's time for a trade up, lads!

The Anglo Saxons (go here and carefully note the caption!), watching this from their Germanic homesteads with glee, could see an upwardly mobile real estate deal when it presented itself, so bunches of the upped sticks and sailed over.  They originally were hired as mercenary protectors by the Britons, but they didn’t go in much for togas compared to rape and pillage and within a few years had taken over and set about to dividing into small kingdoms and declaring war on each other to their hearts’ content.  They also brought their language, on which somewhat better records were kept.  A few centuries later, just as soon as they’d got themselves unified into some semblance of order and had started keeping excellent chronicles, a Norman across the Channel decided he ought to be king.  William the Bastard, for that was his unfortunate name,  invaded and won.  He ousted the Anglo Saxon lords and installed his own Old-French-mixed-with-Latin-again speaking cronies instead, further enriching the language and changing his name to the much more impressive sounding William the Conqueror.

But, in spite of each subsequent invader’s attempt to quash the language of those who came before, the invaded stubbornly held on to an impressive lot of their old languages and culture, which is why something as old as a millennium old written character that looks like “y” and sounds like a “th” is still bulldogish-ly refuses to go away.  Which is good because “Yee old [anything]” sounds absolutely ludicrous.

Apostrophe – I know this isn’t a word, but you know what I mean.  People will throw this little mark wherever they think something should go, but for the life of them don’t know whether it’s a different spelling, contraction, or trying to show possession.

There/Their/They’re – And while we’re on the subject!  These are totally different words, figure ’em out!

Had this been painted a week earlier, it would have depicted the farmer's wife and children still alive. One must admire his optimism here, yes?

“Medieval” used when people mean backwards.  Actually refers to a distinct period in Western history which was complex, interesting, and full of people trying desperately to push their way forward out of the mess that Rome put them in after dividing, collapsing, and embarrassingly allowing itself to be ripped to shreds by barbarian hordes.  Western standards of music, culture, and literature were developed during this period.  Architecture, which had become an utterly lost art  was redeveloped literally from the ground up.  The ideas of credit, and banking were invented.  The whole period is a heartening example of human beings being knocked into the sludge over and over again with invasions, plagues, more invasions, famine, and a couple of other invasions, and consistently picking themselves up, dusting off the disease and gore, and getting back to the difficult business of human advancement.

Irregardless – This is not, in fact, a word.  At all.  Don’t use it.  Ever.

“Decimate” – Once upon a time, there was an empire that was cheerfully burgeoning in the centuries BC.  Not that they called themselves an empire, oh no!  That would have sounded barbaric and unenlightened.  They called themselves a Republic, the Roman Republic to be exact, and since they were so enlightened and grand, the ideal career for a spry, young Not-Empire was to invade all their nearest neighbors and force them to submit to their rule.  Really there were few things this adolescent Republic liked better than sauntering into Germany, Greece, or North Africa and casually killing a few thousand people before breakfast.

"Tough luck, Flavius." "Son of a Gaul!"

Not content with brutality directed at the unwashed masses they were trying to subdue (so that they could tax and enslave the snot out of them), occasionally when one of their vicious battalions mutinied or were insufficiently enthusiastic about marching off to slaughter, the commander would order them decimated.  Meaning that they would be divided into groups of ten, draw lots, and whichever one of them pulled the short straw was stoned or bludgeoned to death.  Literally it meant to reduce by one tenth.

Nowadays, the term decimation is used, completely at odds with its origin and etymology, to mean when people, places, or structures are reduced by cataclysmic proportions (although the American media is prone to exaggeration in this regard: “That windstorm last night decimated trees and power lines!” for example, when maybe one or two were knocked down).  Decimated does not mean destroyed, wiped out, broken, mildly damaged, and dirtied up.

“Like” – “It was, like, so hard!  I mean, like, I’ve never had to do anything that bad since, like, I had to pick out my, like prom dress!”  The word “like” means similar to.  Or fond of.  It can be used as a conjunction, verb, or adverb, it is NOT an equivalent to “um…”

For My Future Spawn: Austen

“How quick come the reasons for approving what we like!”
– Jane Austen

However, I will agree, some Austen fans take it WAY too far.

J. and I were talking about Jane Austen a while back (he hates her) and he voiced a common male complaint about Pride and Prejudice, “Women like it just because they want to end up with Mr. Darcy.”
“I don’t think so,” was my response.   “I think smart women like it because they want to be like Elizabeth.”

And I stand by that.   Literary-ily speaking, she was one of the first admirable heroines in the relatively new form known as the novel.  Previously, women generally were getting carried off by brigands/lecherous squires, fainting at every available opportunity, and dealing with ghosts, vampires, and monks who sell themselves to the Devil.  Alternatively, she is intelligent, lively, has a sense of humor, has a strained relationship with her mother but is fiercely loyal to her family, has personality quirks, won’t marry a repulsive man just because he’ll inherit her house someday, and makes mistakes.  In other words, a fairly normal woman.

Suddenly, shoveling through the supernatural and sentimentality, along came Jane Austen who decided to write about the sphere she moved in, the concerns she and her peers dealt with from day to day, and to make the everyday interesting.  Austen is one of my favorite writers, not because of the romance, but because she is historically important.  And because of this skill in skewering the foibles of society and people with wit and sarcasm.

Now, not all Austen adaptations are created equal, and I should know.  Mum, Snickers, and I have spent many a Sunday afternoon enjoying them:

Pride and Prejudice

Pride and Prejudice (A&E, 1996) is the definitive P&P version.  It’s basically the book in film form, which can hardly be said of most novel adaptations.  It’s certainly the top Austen film, in my opinion.  Lovely score, good costuming, and excellent acting.  J., when his protests against me watching it have been overcome, will grudgingly hunker down with his laptop on the sofa ignoring it, but will invariably make some kind of commentary, “Darcy’s awkward,” or more likely, “Wow.  Her mother needs a sock stuffed in her mouth.”  My only real complaint with this version is that Jane is not attractive in the slightest.  Rosamund Pike of the Keira Knightley Pride & Prejudice is a better beauty, although the only really good thing about that version is the music.  “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Emma

I already know I’m going to catch it from Marie for this but Emma (A&E, 1997) with Kate Beckinsale is my favorite version.  She loves the Emma with Gwyenth Paltrwo, which I don’t at all.  And the latest Emma with Ramola Garai, though it got mixed reviews from the crazed Austenites (with whom I do not see eye to eye), I quite liked too.  In fact, this novel seems to be the most debated because main character is a bit spoiled, a busybody, and stupidly manipulative in only the way young girls who think they are more clever than they actually are can be.  But I like the character of Emma quite a lot.  All of Austen’s characters grow, but this is an instance of one of them growing up.  “Silly things do not cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.”

Sense and Sensibility

Up until recently, I liked the 1995 Sense & Sensibility with the divine Emma Thompson, but the BBC recently did a version (which aired on my beloved PBS stateside) which I think a lot better.  The ages of the actresses were more appropriate and much of the novel which had been left out of the first adaptation was put back in, making the story a bit more as rich as it should have been.  And as much as I love Alan Rickman’s broodiness (in everything he’s ever done), I thought Col. Brandon seemed much more noble and likable, which he ought to be, instead of lurking in corners and sighing dramatically.  I don’t go much for the Byronic types.  They’re aggravating.  “She was stronger alone; and her own good sense so well supported her, that her firmness was as unshaken, her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable, as, with regrets so poignant and so fresh, it was possible for them to be.”

Others

Masterpiece Theatre’s version of Northanger Abbey is really fun.  It’s Austen’s lone almost purely satirical novel, mercilessly lampooning those Gothic monks and ghosts previously mentioned. Both this and this version of Persuasion are really very good so it’s a coin toss there.  And if I had to choose between this verision and this version of Mansfield park, I lean toward the latter, even though neither are very good.  Mostly because Fanny Price is the dullest of dull heroines and does next to nothing throughout the course of the book and the second film tried to make her likable.

And because, as with Shakespeare, the most annoying sorts of people are those who take things too seriously, I’m flat out ordering all of you to hop on over to the bookstore and buy Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: The Classic Regency Romance – Now with Ultraviolent Zombie Mayhem! Partly because it is uproariously funny, partly because even J. liked it.  Spoiler alert.  Darcy, on the occasion of his first, pompous proposal is rewarded for his pains with a roundhouse kick to the face.  Alas, Mrs. Bennett is little changed: her husband is trying to keep his daughters from the clutches of the undead…but she’s still trying to get them married.

And lest we forget…there is that hilarious “post-modern moment” in Lost in in Austen.

Gender. Bending.

“Where’s C.?”
“In the restroom.”
“…which one?”
– Hennessy and officer

Confused?

As I have ranted before, one of my most hated jobs is picking up and dropping of the laundry for the officers.  The issues of managing laundry for forty grown men will not be further discussed here, but what will now be revealed is that, between hauling up to 20 bags in and out of the office three days a week, hanging up individual orders on lockers, wrangling excess hangers, and hunting for whatever goes missing, I probably spend more time in the men’s room than the ladies’.

And the funny thing is, all of the student officers have become completely immune to the sight of me in pencil skirt and heels, trotting in and out of their locker room.  I knock first, naturally!

The first time I was doing the laundry by myself, a bunch of new student officers lumbered in, saw me hanging up uniforms, and jumped about a mile (squealing a little).  Like I was a mouse.  Bless them.  These days we have nice conversations as they lace up their boots.

But every once in a while, I’ll skip on out of the men’s room and a reserve officer (who doesn’t normally work here) on his way in, will do a double take and give me a funny look.  I usually just say hi and decline to explain.  I think it’s good for them to be shaken up a bit every once and a while.

I’m About to Say the Sooth!

“The oracle says Spain over Germany.  Discuss.”
“I’m sorry but I have to say German over Spain.  Spaniards eat a lot of octopus…the animal is afraid of saying they will lose, as it might end up on a barbecue.”
“True.  I had not sufficiently taken into account culinary pressures.”
– C. and Francois, Facebook conversation

The Romans used to slash creatures open and observe their livers and kidneys to tell the future.  By comparison, Paul the Oracle Octopus is less gruesome.  I’m sort of hoping Spain trounces Germany just so his status as a prophetic cephalopod is confirmed.

Unfortunately for the tentacled sucker in question, I have an everlasting hatred of the name Paul.  On a train ride from Holyhead, Wales to London, AbFab, Elizabeth, Kiri, Marie and I were seated with an odd couple.  They smoked like chimneys, drank like fish, and swore like sailors.  They both had saggy skin covered in tattoos while she had mad, frizzled hair and he was horrifically bald.  Apparently she was married to another person but the man with her, named Paul, was her lover.  There’s no accounting some people’s taste.

When we changed trains at Crewe the girls and I were happily esconced in our new car when Paul passed us coming down the corridor.  Suddenly something landed in my lap.  I looked down and saw a twisted up piece of paper and thought he’d dropped it, but he moved on before I could hand it back.  Unfortunately when I unfurled it, it was his name and number.

Commenced five women gagging enthusiastically and shuddering all the way to London.  They teased me to no end.

Paul the octopus looks cuddly by comparison.

Keep Calm: An Emotional Evolution Since Yesterday

 “Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.”
– Virginia Woolf
 

Happy independence to me…from Venice.  She and Val are on their way East (though if Facebook updates are anything to go off of, they are already having a horrid time of it).  Since her departure, I’ve been going through the most frightful emotional rollercoaster, best illustrated by the following series. 

I'm fine. I'm fine.

 

I'm not fine! I'm not fine!

 

Minor meltdown/The Crazies

 

Successfully avoiding.

 

Unsuccessfully avoiding.

 

Denial.

 

Bargaining.

 

Acceptance. Sort of.

 So.  Here’s to absent friends.  Whenever any of you may be.

A Festive Rant

“Fireworks.”
…”Yes,” said Gregor, smiling eagerly.  [Everyone] around the table perked up at this.  An inherent cultural passion for things that went boom, perhaps.
– Louis McMaster Bujold,
A Civil Campagin

Last year J. and I were on our honeymoon and watched fireworks from the top of the Stratosphere hotel, which meant we only saw tiny little puffballs of color blossoming far beneath us.  The year before that, I and others in Ireland celebrated by having our vote to go to Kilkenny overturned by our professor who wanted to see Glendelough.  And the two years I’ve been in the US previously, I spent the summers in Belgium working at NATO with my father and got to see nary an explosion.

And I love fireworks!

This year most of the surrounding area is doing it’s 4th celebration on the 3rd, and lots of the cities are strapped for cash (hurray, recession) so I probably won’t get to see any this year either.  Sigh.

However, ironically enough, J. and I didn’t get to celebrate our anniversary on Thursday (he went to a funeral, and I was dying at work prepping for our university’s own 4th party) and yesterday we went out to eat with his sister and parents.  So today we will be celebrating our lack of indpendence together!

Fabulous, Darling!

“I collect antique fountain pens, I’m quite adept at Japanese flower arranging- Ikibana- oh, and I was also the starting offensive tackle at Illinois…..Surprise!”
– Cameron, Modern Family

Though I find it mildly weird that both J. and Margot mentioned this to me on the same day…I can’t help but wonder how many problems in this world could have been avoided if we all had one of these: