the Diva Platform

I’ve never worked in an office that had “summer hours,” where you only work a half-day on Fridays.  Today that sounds like a nice idea.  Oh, sure, I’m not one to be bringing in a ton of cash, so why should I feel like I deserve a Friday off (or a short Friday)?

Well, it’s that whole “summer” thing.  For the second Friday in a row, I’m feeling a little lazy.  It’s sunny, I’d rather be outside (though apparently I’m inside, killing time by playing computer mah-jongg), that kind of thing.  Anything but coming up with another rant….or a non-rant.

If this happens again next week, I’m going to seriously think about taking Friday off for the rest of August.  Devote that brain time to a different project–maybe updating my blog software, perhaps.

I just feel like my brain needs to recharge a bit–I love writing the blog, but the blog doesn’t always love me back in the same way.  I don’t want to take a full-on break from it, but I wouldn’t mind a rest once in a while.

Who likes taxes?  Raise your hands!  Come on, raise them high!

No one?

Really?

Even when taxes pay for all kinds of services you use all the time, like the library, police department, fire department, roads, water  service, free events around town?

Still no?

I understand.  I don’t like the idea of taxes either–but I think it’s partly because the word “tax” has such a negative connotation.  A tax is hard, it’s a penalty.  It’s no good.

What are we really doing with that money though?  We’re investing it in our towns, cities, states, and country.  Instead of “tax,” why don’t we call it “investment”?  I’d go for that.  I’m making a “federal investment” with my income, not being “taxed.”  When I buy a six-pack, I’m also investing in our felons well-being.  If I had to buy license plate stickers every year, that money is an investment into better roads.

Doesn’t that sound better?  It makes me think that my money is going toward something useful, rather than being mired in red tape, hot air, and some corrupt person’s pocket.  Granted, it’s a mandatory investment, but nonetheless, I’d rather feel like I’m investing in this country, rather than the country draining my pocketbook all the time.

What do you think?

My church decided to do a new photo directory, which meant all of the members got asked (or begged) to please come in and have your picture taken.  You’d get a free 8×10 out of the deal!

I waited until almost the last possible minute to get the picture taken–and I dragged the Boy, even though he’s not a member of the church.  We hadn’t had a formal picture taken since we got married, and since we’re not the Olan Mills type, this was an opportunity to get a portrait done.

That was wishful thinking.

The Boy hates getting his picture taken, so it’s hard for him to relax when he knows the camera wants to shoot (he’s not totally unphotogenic–you just have to get a candid shot of him).  I’m not that thrilled about it either, since I’m still overweight, and even though I do practice my poses a la “America’s Next Top Model,” something tells me I don’t quite pull them off.

That something would be the proofs.  Where my “fierce” eyes look more “crazy” than “fierce.” And the angles the photographer wants your head at instantly causes all the fat to shift to one side and make as many chins as possible (which you know, they can airbrush out.  For a fee).  And the stupid ways you have to hold your hands–I don’t know who came up with these poses, but they aren’t natural.

Needless to say, we managed to evade the hard sell on buying a package of pictures (the unemployment issue helps), and I’m not quite sure what we’ll do with the free 8×10.  Maybe it’ll turn out better than I remember it looking.

Some days, my inner DAR member comes out and gets all patriotic and shit.  This happened again last week, and I thought I would share with you a little reminder about how we treat the American flag.

Last Thursday I got off the bus near my house and saw a bundled up flag on the ground.  I couldn’t just leave it there, so I brought it home and explained why I was carrying a ratty flag.  We folded it properly, and I’ll be dropping it off at the library, where I believe they have a drop box for flag disposal (and if they don’t, I’ll look for an alternative solution).

I was pretty disappointed to find this flag, because whoever dropped it there showed total disrespect for a symbol of our nation.  According to the U.S. Code Title 4, Sec. 8, (b), “The flag should never touch anything beneath it, such as the ground, the floor, water, or merchandise.”  Plus, since a few stripes were pretty unraveled, the flag also fit (k): The flag, when it is in such condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display, should be destroyed in a dignified way, preferably by burning.”

If you have a flag, please take a look and make sure it’s still in usable condition.  And if it’s not, please destroy it.  Also, next time you’re carrying a flag, don’t let it touch the ground.  Sure, proper display of our flag has other rules, but these two aren’t that difficult.  Let’s treat our country with a little more respect.

Last week I first read in the Chicago Tribune that people (women) are extremely worried about their fat ankles–cankles, you call them.  Calf that runs into ankle?  Cute! [BTW, I did read it in the Trib last week, even though the online version is dated July 5.  I believe it's the same article.  That's called repurposing content, and those of us who pay to get the print newspaper often get the news way after it's online...breaking news, I'd understand, but the rest of it?  Thanks.  I have about 30 minutes a day to devote to your publication.  I'd rather not read it on the computer screen if I don't have to.  But I digress.  This is a totally different rant.]

Then I saw a Yahoo! headline:  Growing number of Americans working to avoid ‘cankles.’  One would hope that the original worriers numbered 2, and now there are 3 people worrying about them.  If that was the case, those 3 people would all be working in the media, where they could take the opportunity to publicize their insecurities and make us all worry about the width of our ankles.

I know.  It’s a sore point for some.  I have big calves.  But I also have other things to do with my time than worry about how big my calves are.

Oh, I understand.  We’re all insecure about parts of our bodies, especially since we can’t airbrush ourselves before we leave the house in the morning.  Still, if you can’t wear gladiator sandals because you think your ankles are too fat, then maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. (have I mentioned that I think the gladiator sandal trend is lame?)

Maybe we should just buck the “what’s in style” thing and stick to what looks good on us. The only time I really think about my big calves are when I think about putting on tall dress boots.  What’s my solution?  Don’t even think about buying tall dress boots.  I’m not shedding tears over it that much–yes, it might be nice to have tall dress boots, but I’m not going to try to spot reduce my calves just to fit into them.  I don’t need them that badly.

Besides, fat calves may be in style some day, and when they are, I’ll be ready to be at the forefront of that fashion trend.

My brain wants to take a little vacation from blogging…mostly because I’m boning up on roller derby.

See, Windy City Rollers’ first home travel team match is tomorrow, and I’m geeked for a number of reasons:

–Philly is coming to town, and they’re good, so it should be a well-matched bout.

–I’m statisfying in a new position, inside the track, collecting penalties from the refs and feeding them to the penalty tracker.  I’ve practiced this at scrimmages, but doing the real thing will be a fun challenge!

–It’ll be my first time working with the new rules (apparently every year or so, the rules get refined a bit, as is the case with many new sports.  It’s kind of like updating software, so I’m getting used to the new tweaks and am curious to see how they work in matches….if you know roller derby, you may/may not know that the new rules eliminate the jammerless jam concept, among other things.  Should be faster game play with some of the changes).  This means a few more penalty codes to remember and that tripping is once again called a low block.

–There’s a slight possibility Intejill will have a costume.  The question is getting it done.  The tease?  Pants by number.

Since my brain is filling up on new rules, new penalty codes, and the like, it’s not too thrilled about coming up with a new post/rant.  It just wants to think about the awesomeness of derby and the possibility of you being there tomorrow.

I’ve made a few decisions in the past few weeks that I’m incredibly proud of.  INCREDIBLY proud of.  And internally, I’ve congratulated myself on them several times, thinking, Way to go, Jill!  You made the right decision!

Of course, this wouldn’t be a big deal–we all make decisions, big and small, every day, and when you know you’ve made the right decision, you should be pleased with the way you’ve handled the situation.

Except I’m pleased about choosing the right sandwich.

A few weeks ago, Ma Jaracz took me and the Boy to Charlie’s Ale House, where I got the ham & cheese.  Normally, I’m not a fan of ham & cheese, but it had Gouda and was on a pretzel roll.  The minute I bit into it, I thought, Great sandwich! I devoured it and totally relished the experience.

Then I went to Fizz for lunch with the fencers.  Fizz has changed up its menu, which means there are a lot of new things to try (Media Noche (their version of a Cuban sandwich)?  Dish delish!).  Their new burgers are supposed to be fantastic made with USDA Prime), but on that day I was craving their grilled cheese.  With bacon and tomato.  I’m prone to ordering bacon, but tomato sounded good that day.  Again.  Great choice, totally satisfying experience.

The other day, the Boy and I burned off a gift certificate we had for The Counter, where you can build your own burger and have to make choices about cheese, toppings, sauce, and bun.  So many choices, and I really thought, I should put the bleu cheese on my burger, but I’m curious about the herbed goat cheese spread. I opted for the goat cheese and was quite happy with the way my burger turned out.

The last example is telling of the way my mind tends to think–I should have x.  Somehow I grew up relying on the “shoulds” in life.

“I should do this.”

“Oh, so-and-so is ordering that.  I should have the same thing/order in the same price range.”

“I really want a drink with dinner, but no one else is ordering booze.  Maybe I shouldn’t.” (or the reverse is true too)

“Everyone else is ordering soup.  Maybe I should too.”

I don’t especially like the fact that I grew up worrying about what other people think of me instead of making decisions about my life that I’m pleased with.  Sometimes this way of thinking has bled into decisions that are more important to my life, and that frustrates me.  By taking control of the little decisions, hopefully the shoulds won’t blend into the big ones anymore, and I’ll be much better off as a person.

In the meantime, a PB & J actually sounds good right about now.

I’d planned to write a little rant about how frustrating it is to have to cut back on things like going out (or basically anything fun).  We’re still doing all right financially, but we’ve got to keep the frivolous costs down, which means that I’m a little bitter about not being able to use the 15% off at Binny’s liquor store this past weekend because I’m out of gin, and I’m one bottle away from being out of beer.  Plus, the Boy keeps saying, “We’ve gotta stop going out.”  Really?  I feel like we (or maybe it’s just I) hardly ever go out anymore.

However, after I looked at my calendar and saw that I went out five times in June and five times this month already (by “going out,” I mean doing an activity where you have to buy something, like lunch or dinner), I felt pretty guilty about moaning about the sorry state of my social calendar.  After all, I do live in a city where there’s a ton of free stuff to enjoy, and I am still going out from time to time.  Plus, I still have booze in the liquor cabinet, so although I’m out of gin, that means I can focus on the rum and vodka and learn to make new drinks with those.

Yep, this economic downturn is an opportunity–an opportunity to use up what I’ve got and enjoy what I have, and if I realize the abundance I do have, I won’t think of what I haven’t got.  At least that’s the hope.

Here are a few of my haves and have nots.  If you’re also cutting back, what are your haves and have nots?

Have not:  Gin.

Have:  Sloe gin.  And rum.  And vodka.  And Cointreau.  And amaretto.  And some other stuff.  This means I can enjoy mojitos, rum sidecars, and sloe gin fizzes up the wazoo.  Anybody have a good recipe using Creme de Cacao?

Have not: French fries.

Have:  Willpower.  It’s here somewhere.

Have not:  This month’s book club book.

Have:  A library card.

Have not:  The latest summer styles.

Have:  A bottomless t-shirt drawer (and if I’m not going out, what does it matter that I wear?).  And the knowledge that I didn’t get stuck buying gladiator sandals.

Have not:  Yet gone to the Farmer’s Market.

Have: Thwarted extra poundage due to personal weakness about pretzel rolls served by the bakery stand.

When I first contemplated going to library school, I thought I’d work in public libraries, simply because of the opportunity to work with fiction.  Then I started working in special (i.e.–corporate) libraries and realized two things:  1.  The money was better.  2.  You didn’t have to deal with the public.

Everyone who’s worked in retail or foodservice or health care or some other sort of front line position (bank teller, BMV counter rep, etc.) knows what I’m talking about.  You sometimes have to deal with….well…..morons.  They’re demanding (or stupid) and just go off at the drop of a hat. People that you have to treat with kid gloves, even if they don’t appreciate it.

The thing is, all of us are the public.  So why do we act like this?

I know I’m guilty of being a jerk in a store a time or two.  Perhaps it’s because I’m getting bad (or no) service.  Sometimes it’s because I can’t find anything.  Sometimes it’s because there’s a jerk in front of me.  Sometimes I’m just having a bad day, and something in the store set me off.  I don’t mean to be jerky, but there are some occasions where I just lose it.

But do so many people lose it so often that the public gets the bad reputation for this?  Or are there other factors at play here?

Please discuss–I’m curious to see if there’s a problem we can solve so that we all don’t get such a bad reputation anymore.

The other week I went to a small dinner party where I only knew one other person.  I arrived at the restaurant first and waited for our table.  Soon after, another woman arrived, and we made a little small talk, during which I asked most of the questions to keep the conversation rolling.  Then everyone arrived, and we all sat down and had a lovely meal.

On the way home, I rode the bus with that same woman, but once I stopped asking questions, the conversation was over.  Most of our ride was in silence, which annoyed me a little bit, but what annoyed me more was that apparently I wasn’t good enough to be asked about.

This has happened to me on a number of occasions, and I’m starting to think there’s something wrong with me.  Look, everyone advises that if you want to get to know people, you have to get them talking, i.e.–ask them enough questions until you can get a regular conversation rolling.  However, when you end up asking all the questions and the other person doesn’t give you anything, you start feeling like a tool.

Oh, I’m hoping there’s a good excuse–she had a long, hard day at work, she’s tired, she’s full, she’s shy/quiet.  Something like that.  I’m hopeful of that in every one of these situations.  But I’m quiet and shy too (until I get to know you/the environment better), and I think that’s why I get hypersensitive about this–ask any shy person:  Trying to get a conversation going is very difficult for those of us who do not like to speak up right away.   When I feel like I’m busting a gut trying to make an effort, the least you could do is meet me halfway.

And if you can’t, don’t sit next to me on the bus on the way home.  I brought a book, and I’d like to stick my nose in it rather than pretend to have a conversation.