Life in the Slow Lane

Apparently there is a great host of people hoping that I will manage to meet my goal of 200 posts for the year 2006. A great host, in this case, refers to two people. I began a post over a month ago, that I have worked on intermittently since then, and while it is not yet fit for gracing this public page, I will excerpt a small portion of it to make my quota: I know that's cheating, but it's almost midnight. And really, what better way to start the New Year than with a hug? So Happy New Year!

According to my long standing tradition, here are some New Year's Resolutions for all of my dear readers to accomplish during 2007: 1) Take on a secret identity to be nice to at least one person. (It's no coincidence that this is the year of 007, is it?) 2) Invent a contraption that looks normal but has all sorts of snazzy features. (Perhaps a coffee cup that also warms socks... or a toothbrush that doubles as a painting instrument.) 3) Build a bridge with q-tips. 4) Clean the popcorn out from under the seat in your car. (Hey, doesn't everyone have this problem?) 5) Comment on my blog. (Just once fulfills this resolution, but don't let that stop you. As a matter of fact, additional comments on my blog makes up for any failures in accomplishing the others. Don't let this great opportunity pass you by.) 6) Spend some time contemplating the construction of a spider web. 7) Create a time capsule for you to open on the next rainy day.

When I was in school, I would start every semester with a long list of wonderful habits. Usually, they lasted until the week before midterms. But I knew not to panic too much, because I would just work on getting the urgent things done, and when the semester was over, I could catch up on the things that got left behind, and re- strategize for the next semester. That worked okay for things like flossing my teeth and cleaning my room, and not quite so well for things like eating well and keeping track of where I spent my money. But that is what college life is like for everyone, so I didn't let it worry me. But about a month and a half ago, all of the good habits I began when I first moved out on my own started deteriorating. Meals were only complete if I used a loose definition of the term. Keeping track of my expenses consisted of throwing whatever receipts I found at the pile on my bookshelf. And that is when I started looking forward to my semester break. But I seem to have

During the summer of 2003 I had one day off. I spent it defrosting the wall air conditioning unit. By the next day it had frozen again, and the day after that we were asked to change rooms. While I had hoped that prying the ice off of the coils would leave me a lasting feeling of accomplishment (as well as diminish the amount of water that dripped continuously , leaving my half of the room soggy) what left me feeling most accomplished was a) I was able to put the unit back together again and b) I had a band-aid on hand for when I sliced my fingers on the coils. Needless to say, no one received a post card detailing my day's activities. As I come to the end of another similarly spent vacation (more accomplishment in this one, though, I hope... no band-aids on my fingers, only "Clear Day" paint) I am reminded of the tradition of co-workers bringing back a little lembrancinha from their vacation. I have received a sea anemone key chain, a matching pen and nail file with

When I was still a school-going child and happened to be sick, I would watch the clock all day long. At 9:52 I would imagine the rest of my classmates discussing Steinbeck, wondering what strange non-existent lessons they were pulling out. At 10:23 I would snuggle warmly in my bed, pleased that I was sick and not dressing out for PE like I would be on a normal day. At 11:34 I would agonize about the quiz I was missing in math and whether I'd be allowed to make it up or not. (Hey, grades were important.) At 12:31 I would wander to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of Sprite and grab a few crackers, glad that I didn't have to eat a mushed pb&j with eau de sandwich bag. And so I spent my sick days, thinking about where I "should" be. (I never would have enjoyed ditching class.) And now there is this weird thing called vacation but it is radically different than the vacation I used to know (also called Summer or Christmas vacation). For that kind of vacation,

Recently I watched nearly 20 minutes of a new film release while driving through LA. I wasn't able to hear any of it, and the size of the screen made it difficult to be able to catch all of the nuances of the film, but I was beginning to feel like I was able to follow the plot line. That is until some little sedan cut me off and made me lose my almost front row seat to the SUV movie theater.

Today a little boy stood at my knee, crying and saying "More food, more food." Talk about a heart breaking picture, especially so soon after Christmas. How could I possibly turn him away and ignore his plaintive cry? Answer: By remembering that he had just gotten in trouble for dropping tuna fish on the floor and then spitting. But really, after taking a look at this picture , you can't really blame the poor kid for trying, can you?

It just so happens that Christmas Eve provides an excuse for many people to visit a church that they otherwise would never enter. This is why it is a wonderful idea to be extra nice to people you don't recognise just in case they happen to be new and are in the process of getting their first impression. It really is too bad that my hymnal accidentally connected with the head in front of me. The worst of it is that it is nearly impossible to tell whether the book that just hit you was a hymnal or a Bible. So if you hear someone telling you about a crazy church where you get thwacked on the head with Bibles... tell them it was a hymnal. That should make everything better.

This last week I have had a cold. Yes, I was the envy of my entire department. Why? you ask. Because I didn't have the flu or the other nasty viruses that decided to move into our office and send out Christmas cards. It's a good thing everyone was sent home for Christmas, we were starting to wear Lysol antibacterial room spray as perfume and use disinfectant wipes to blanket our work station... and the one next door... and the one down the hall. Maybe the germs will finish up their party and go home before we have to punch in again on our time cards.

One of the more mind-twisting aspects of my job is the sensation that I am reading yesterday's headlines in today's letters. Which, of course, leads to a completely new perspective when I read the news. I've written to people who have the out-sourced jobs. I've read pages from a boy whose father and brothers were killed on their way to school because of an African conflict. I've gotten the flurry of letters from friends and family of the high school football hero, now paralyzed. I've held in my hands a request from a man five times a murderer. Is it any wonder that today, when I read a headline about suicide and depression in the Indian army, I read the article with panicked attention, hoping that I didn't recognize any names? I sometimes forget that even though it may seem that I get letters from all 6 billion people on this planet, most of the people I write to will never make the six o'clock news.

1. Go easy on the glitter. 2. Avoid writing it from the viewpoint of your dog. 3. Do not use extensive quotes from last year's letter. 4. If you are going to write it from the viewpoint of your dog, at least enclose one picture of him. 5. If you feel that you must write it as if you are Mrs. Claus, by no means mention people who tried to pinch your Claus covered ******. (Santa isn't going to be able to deliver presents to anyone else because he will spend all Christmas Eve filling their house with coal.) 6. If you really must write the letter from the viewpoint of your dog, do not begin the letter with "This year was a very busy year for my house. Every day my master took me out to relieve myself." While that very well might be the highlight for the dog, there is a reason that dogs do not exchange Christmas cards.

I've noticed a disturbing trend recently: My room gets cold. Very, very cold. As in, I am beneath four blankets, with a heating pad at my feet, and I am still shivering. The good news is I don't have to worry about fitting the open bottle of juice into my fridge space. With my blinds closed, it fits quite nicely on my window ledge. Maybe now is the time to buy another watermelon .

My walk Originally uploaded by biukalee . In a moment of pre-existent nostalgia, I took this picture which shows a portion of the path I take between my place of residence and my work. If this turns out to be the last empty lot of these proportions within Los Angeles county, I will be mad at myself for advertising it. If anyone asks, just remember, you have no idea where this lot is located.

I find it highly ironic that a custom that could only exist in the storage glutted United States takes its name from the East. Sure, our goal is more to inconvenience someone than to ruin them, but where else would people exchange teeth impressions, hideous homemade stockings, and an entire crate of promotional items with the company's name emblazoned on each, nearly worthless item? Everyone gets a good laugh that it wasn't them who got stuck with the slightly pornographic body oil. Someone else doesn't even bother begging for others to take their lovely gift of the flashing teeth and the grow-a-brain. The toilet stopper-chopper wins the award for most disgusting, but instead of imagining an early trip to a dumpster, the recipient looks forward to the next exchange when she can pass it off on someone else. And that's where it gets disturbing. Not only did all of this junk start off in someone's home, but there are plans to store it so that it can be passed on to s

One of my co-workers came over for lunch today. Of course, as exciting as my trash-can-interfering-with-my-towel-drying show is, any real tour of my place includes Pepper and Jackie, of Bunny Love fame. My visitor was ecstatic that I had bunnies. I mentioned, in passing, that I didn't think they got as much attention as they needed, and suddenly I was on the witness stand, asked to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. What I had to say only made my co-worker sad and so we sneaked a carrot to each rabbit before we went back to work. Ten minutes later, everyone in our department knew about the poor, sad bunnies who didn't get enough attention. Suggestions were made about taking up a collection for their proper treatment. An hour later, I was asked "What were the poor bunnies' names again?" Two hours later I was offered a couple of carrots to take home. And every time I walked by my lunchtime visitor, she gave me such very sad, sad eyes. I

I started at the wrong end of my Christmas shopping list this year. About a month ago one of my co-workers gave me the warning that our department exchanged small gifts at Christmas. I thanked her profusely for giving me the heads-up, and then added each person in our department to my "List of people to buy for". And for the last month I have kept my eyes open for that special category of gift that says "I don't really know you all that well, and I can't spend a ton of money on you, but I want you to know that I did think about you, and isn't this a cute gift I got for you?" And since that category is oh, so very small, I put a lot of effort into finding seven such gifts. Then the week after I had finished finding suitable gifts for everyone, they decided that seven people really was too many to buy for, and instead we will draw names and only buy for one. And what I have to say about it is this: I hope those of you still on my "List of people to b

I have found that if there is some unknown object on your person that activates the security alarms upon the entrance and exit of every store, that your shopping excursion will be shortened of your own will and volition.

Today, standing in the Getty Villa, I had a weird feeling of shifting shadows. The Getty Villa is fashioned after a Roman villa in Pompeii. They took the "foot print" of the excavated ruins and used it as the start to the building, adding other characteristics typical to Roman era buildings. Another portion of the museum is made to look like it has been excavated... cement has been molded to mimic the petrified wood found in Pompeii. A year and a half ago I stood in Pompeii, standing in the atrium of an excavated Roman villa. I studied the eerie stone-that-was-wood, and squinted at the barely discernible original art on the walls and floor. And today, as I remembered that place, I wondered whether that was the shadow or if what I looked at today was the shadow. But as I stood, marveling at the beauty of the gleaming Roman columns, with the butterflies flitting from plant to fountain and back, I couldn't help but cast one calculating glance at the mountain shadowing the

Today we had our staff Christmas party. Dress code was business or holiday business. I spent some time considering what "holiday business" might look like, but I guessed wrong. Apparently it means wearing red sweaters with little Christmas pins. But I suppose it is okay that I guessed wrong, because I have never taken the trouble to buy myself specifically holiday apparel. Instead I chose to wear my Kazakh groom's coat. (Please note that the term "my" modifies the word "coat" and not the word "groom".) Perhaps I have grown too comfortable with its appearance, as it has hung in my closet for several years now. But really, how was I suppose to know the stir it would create? My quiet entrance into our morning prayer gathering caused instant cessation of conversation... and a few whistles. During the brief two hours of work before the party, the accounting department sent over a sight seer. Our Christmas party was at the Getty Villa... a mut

Sometimes I am almost positive that I overhear the narrator of the great screen play that is my life. I was on the phone, trying to not dash the hopes of a caller about an incredible new idea he wanted to market (which has already been done a million times over) and I gently chided him saying, "Well, you know what they say... there's nothing new under the sun." And then the narrator said "She gently chided." Really, if someone is going to narrate my life, can't they at least stay away from cliches and tired sayings? I mean, really. "Gently Chided"? But on the other hand, maybe the narrator had to pop in at that point because the audience was having some trouble believing that I was actually chiding gently. Because that is how it is, a lot of times, the narrator has to stick her head in to help the audience know what is going on. For in this instance, the audience probably fully expected me to respond "Where on earth have you been hiding that

Apparently I have achieved touchable hair. But do not envy me, fair reader, for the commercials do not tell the truth. Touchable hair tempts people into batting at the back of your head like a cat playing with vertical blinds. Or to tug on a strand instead of saying "hello". Or to stand and try and scrunch the rebellious strands so that they look more uniform. No, no, I've never seen these scenarios in the commercials. But then again, that probably wouldn't sell any shampoo.

Today a power surge sent our telephone system into chaos. Every call that came into our switchboard could only be answered via speaker phone. Perhaps a workable problem, except that our switchboard happens to be located at the hub of our office. With people discussing the merit of cashew nuts over brazil nuts as they pick through the snacks, and the chatter of women deciding who really should be allowed to cut in line at the bathroom... the result is not pretty. Or should I say aurally pleasing. Yes, there were a number of callers who must think we operate from a cellular phone while in line at the bathroom. But unlike a nightmare, I was not the main participant, I was just standing by, frantically flipping through the phone manual trying to find anything about a speaker phone feature. While nothing was ever found about such a feature for our switchboard phone, it turns out that you turn on and off the speaker phone through power surges and cutting power. So just in case, some day, yo

Since I know many of you go visiting at the houses of others specifically to compare collections of Christmas cards, I have a confession to make: I am using more than one style of Christmas card. Now I don't want you to think that there was a List A and a List B, and that everyone on List B got the other design. There was just a List A and it got longer than I anticipated. And if, in a couple of days you haven't received a card, that doesn't mean that you were neither on List A or on List B (I mean... the second half of List A), it just means that I haven't yet found your address. So if you want to make sure that you get a Christmas card from me this year, and you think that maybe I have lost your address and was unable to find it through online searches and rigorous perusals of old emails, let me know. Because I'm too embarrassed to admit that I lost your address. And, of course, I want you all* to know that I'm still alive . But more than that, I now have a w

Shopping online is hard work. I think sometimes it requires a massive grid of information to be done properly. Not only do you have to know your username and passcode for each site, but you also have to keep in mind whether the store you are buying from has a coupon code that you might find with a little bit of sleuthing on sites like Ben's Bargains or Slickdeals.net . But that's not the end. If you have a rewards program like AAdvantage or United you have to decide whether to add miles to your accounts (and which one!) or whether you are going to use a site like igive to donate a percentage of your purchase to your favorite charitable cause. And then for check out! Do you use Google Checkout and get the (current) offer of $10 off a $30 purchase? or PayPal to get (current offer) free shipping? And that isn't even considering the dilemmas of how to group purchases at stores to take advantage of free shipping offers, buy one get one, and the host of other things created