Cube Culture

I'm moving up in the world. I now have a .....drumroll..... window cube. I feel a little bit less like I work in a dressing room. It's not a spectacular view, but it's a taller window than this picture shows, so I can see a lot of sky.
Some people deal in interesting ways with the lack of privacy in a cube farm. This coworker affords herself some privacy with this crepe paper 'door'.
I hate the 'Rah rah, let's gather in a circle and sing the Tupperware song' type of soy filler enthusiasm some corporate higher ups try to shove down your throat, but this is cute.

This Weekend

I went to Semiahmoo for the weekend to visit my parents and my precious puppy. Brandy went to the groomer a few days ago and was especially beautiful and silky. Last Thursday was my parents' 53rd anniversary. They are doing great. It is really inspiring to see a couple love each other so much after so many years. My dad is still a walking encyclopedia and my mom is still beautiful. Regarding the picture below, Brandy was not being very cooperative in my efforts to get a picture of my mom and Brandy together. This is the only one where Brandy isn't a blur from moving around.

Tacoma Farmers Market

I work on the 5th floor of the highrise in the background

Peazza

Tonight there was a special thing at work where we all had to stay until 8 pm. My manager offered to order pizza for everyone and asked for requests. As is more typical than not, the men all wanted fatty meat toppings (pepperoni and sausage). My manager enthusiastically concurred. Another woman and I called out that we'd prefer veggie pizza. My manager's response: "Veggie pizza? What's that? Does it have peas and carrots and corn on it or something?"

I think he was kidding.

Recommended Reading

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls.

Every time I finish a book I love, I want there to be a movie of it. I got lucky in that regard with Jennifer Weiner's In Her Shoes. I saw it in Sweden where it was titled i Hennes Skor, and I loved it. The movie adaptation of Rebecca Well's Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood was decent, but seemed to be a patchwork of promienent scenes from the book hastily cobbled together to placate the rabid fans. I've waited ten years for the film version of Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone, but if it hasn't happened by now, I doubt it's forthcoming.

Harry Potter? Who's he?

For some reason, although I love a lot of classic science fiction, I have little to no interest in Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings. Yeah, I know. I can hear all of you: "OH MY GOD! Are you kidding?? You don't know what you're missing!!!" Maybe one day I'll make an attempt, but for now all I can say is I'm too busy reading a wide assortment of other genres.

I hear the "You don't know what you're missing" thing a lot about seafood, all of which I hate except for canned albacore tuna (with lots of mayo). All I can say is lobster and crab activate a deep sense of primal dread in me, and I think they taste like poison. I was once at an art museum opening, a lovely catered event, when a friend suggested I try one of the cheese puffs. Cheese puffs. Yum. Sign me up. I bit into it and a second later wondered how I was going to manage to politely chew and swallow it in a ladylike manner. I managed to do so but then asked, in deep, earnest chagrin how my friend could "Do that to me". He shrugged and said sorry, he didn't know it was crab. Ugh! .

In other not-related-to-this-post's-title news, a friend of mine from Portland was in Tacoma this weekend. He used to lead the monthly hikes I coordinated for my singles group. Brad's a cool guy, very intellectual and creative, always excited about something new that he's doing. Right now he's into TV and video production. We walked Tacoma's waterfront on Ruston Way this morning, talking a mile a minute. Ruston Way is a gorgeous walk. I only live a few miles from it and am hereby vowing to myself to get there more often.

An Accidental Sort of Bio

In 1983, when photography was my primary passion, I had a lapse in judgement and showed my latest series of photos (which had earned high acclaim from my photography instructor) to a family member whose name starts with, um, Jill.

1983 was my first living-in-Phoenix experience. At the time there was an outdoor trampoline center called 'Jump'. I was new in town, and taking photography classes at ASU with the intention of entering the MFA program. For those keeping score, I ended up going home to Miami the next year instead, and working in a photography studio. Anyway, I was driving down Scottsdale Road when suddenly I saw flying humans. Suspended in the air, then gone. I knew I had found a place of great visual opportunity.

I spent a lot of time at Jump. I emerged a few weeks later with a unique portfolio of photos. Some of the photos captured the pure lines of the human form. Others captured graceful dance-like movements. Some were downright silly, in an unabashed, giddy way. My favorites though were the ones that represented a metaphor for spiritual levity. In one such photo, the one on which my sister commented, the subject is a young girl, about 11 years old. She has escaped earth's bounds and is blissfully ascending, arms akimbo, her innocent face enraptured and angelic. Behind her is only the cobalt blue of the desert sky. My sister studied the photo for two seconds, maybe three. Her comment, delivered in an impatient tone: "Ok, who's she?"

The purpose of this post is not to make fun of my sister or to hurt her feelings. I seriously doubt she reads my blog anyway. My point is that that experience, and a few others, taught me that not everyone will always 'get' what you are trying to express. People are wired differently. Some people would rather see exactingly-executed photographs of churches, and that's fine. It's really cool though when people do 'get' you. I have a friend with whom I share my stories (I write stories. I'm pretty serious about them). He is brilliant, a Berkeley-educated lawyer, and a great writer. I sent him my first story with trepidation. Long story short -no pun intended - his unbridled enthusiasm has given me a glimmer of hope that I possess some talent.

I had no idea this post was going to take this direction. I meant to write just one paragraph as a sort of disclaimer against the weirdness of the photos I was about to post. Now that I'm here though, I just want to take a moment to thank the people in my life who do 'get' me. I hope I am similarly able to express to my friends and family the unique qualities I appreciate about them.

Ok, this is getting kind of gross.

Next post: Weird photos.

Light at the end of the tunnel

You all are probably thinking "Nooooooo! Not more fiber optic images!"

I am granting you a brief reprieve.

The light at the end of the tunnel refers to the completion of my master's degree in Education. I'll be done on January 14th, 2008.

Optic Nerve

I Love This!

Yes, my new $5 Gottschalk's- going-out- of- business-sale fiber optic night light really does make me that happpy.

Fire Drill

The fire alarm in my building has sounded three times in the past two days. Each time I've had to walk down 14 flights of stairs. One time isn't that big a deal, but three times is annoying.

It's tempting to ignore a fire alarm after the first one's a dud. Except of course you start wondering to yourself if you're going to look like something out of the Pompeii museum if you don't get out of there.

My guess is that the alarm is being pulled by an angry resident. There are a lot of angry residents in this building due to the snotty attitude of the manager, maintenance issues, people getting locked in their own bathrooms, whatever (actually I'm not that angry, but if I will be if they take much longer replacing my door).

This evening after we were told it was ok to go back up to our apartments, a father and his three young children were waiting for the elevator.The kids were in awe of the firefighter, in his full regalia, walking down the hall. As he passed by he held out his hand and high fived each of them. I thought that was sweet.