This Life

Bike Dancing in Germany

OK, this is weird. But I think I like it.

via www.youtube.com

Procrastination

In case you haven't noticed, I've been blogging a bit less recently. It started when I was in Las Vegas for the 2009 Dressage World Cup, but I haven't really got back into a rhythm since I got back. Now I have more time to blog, but of course I keep finding excuses not to. Why do we do that? Or is it just me?

I've always envied people who twirl through life with an endless supply of organized efficiency. I, on the other hand, stagger from one thing to another while a little voice in my head tells me I should be doing it differently, faster, better. It's not that I'm not organized. I am. Anal, even. Years as a database programmer have left me with an inordinate affection for labeling, sorting and categorizing. I can't stand to see a bookshelf that's un-alphabetized and I've been known to offer to help people move as long as they let me organize their CDs afterwards. It's a sickness.

So why is it that I've unable to organize my activity as well as I do my stuff? If I'm supposed to be finishing a scrapbook, I'll invariably find some web research that HAS to be done. But if I'm supposed to be doing web research? Well, that scrapbook suddenly looks SO enticing! I usually make my deadlines, but there's always a certain amount of sweat and panic involved.

Maybe I'm just getting more ornery in my old age. I've never liked being told what to do; apparently, this applies even when I'M the one doing the telling. I now have to treat myself like a little kid: "If you finish this project, you can play with that website for an hour." Of course, after a couple of hours on the project, my inner child has a meltdown and screams "I'll play with the website if I want to and YOU CAN'T STOP ME."

Is it just me, or does everyone want to slap their inner child?

Anyway, the point of all this rambling is that I really, really, REALLY will blog more often. I promise. No matter what it takes. Thank goodness there's no law against inner child abuse.

Scary Kids

Just had to share this. It's an ad for Cadbury's chocolate in the UK. Because nothing screams "chocolate" like a couple of blank-faced kids with prehensile eyebrows, right?

My New Year's Resolution: Decrapify!

A couple of months ago, I moved my excess crap into another storage unit. Sure, I made a halfhearted attempt to go through some of the boxes and I took several car-loads of stuff to Goodwill, but eventually I got tired and simply stacked the boxes inside the unit, slammed the door and ran to my car before any of the junk could escape and follow me home.

This is typical of me. My general response to being overrun with crap is to pile it somewhere, close the door and pretend it's not there.

For the past few months, I've been doing the same with my office. Walk in the door, dump a pile of stuff on the desk, sit at my computer and pretend the pile isn't there. I always planned to get to it soon, but there was always something more pressing to be done. I mean, how could I spend my time tidying when there was design work to be done? Blogs to be read? Facebook to be updated?

Eventually, my office began to resemble the local landfill, minus the seagulls. It got so bad that I couldn't actually stand to sit down and do real work because the piles were just too depressing. I don't know what finally made me snap--maybe the overdue bills I found in one of the piles--but a few nights ago, I started decluttering and vowed not to stop until the entire office was spotless. I was determined to start the new year with a tidy, pile-free office.

And I did it!

I don't have a "before" picture, but here's the after:

Now, to understand how bad it was before, you have to imagine piles of stuff on every part of the desk, coffee table and surrounding floor. Better yet, why don't I just imagine it for you?

Yep, there's a reason I wasn't an art major.

So now, here's a pictorial tour of my newly fabtastic, clutter-free office.

First, here's my wonderful memory-foam chair from Relax the Back. I LOOOVE this chair! It's so cushy and comfy that sometimes I sit in it just to give my bottom a reward after working out.

Not really.

When it comes to equipment, I'm pretty spoiled. I have two Epson wide-format printers: a 2200 and an R1800. I use a MacPro with two 3Ghz processors, 4GB memory and 1TB disk space. (Non-nerds out there can skip this paragraph. Normal conversation will resume shortly.) I have two monitors: A Samsung SyncMaster on the left and the Apple Cinema 30" in the center that my wonderful man got me for my birthday this year. Yes, I'm a mac person. Didn't used to be; in fact, I spent 15 years as a PC programmer, but I eventually saw the light. Now I'm one of those annoying ex-smoker types who tries to convince everyone else to quit and rolls her eyes whenever Windows is mentioned.

But I digress. Above my desk is my favorite painting: a triptych that I bought at a Peta fund-raiser a few years ago.

I'm not a religious person, but I love the poem on the painting. I like the idea of not knowing why things happen, but trusting that something good will come of them somehow. The poem reads:

"My life is but a weaving between the Lord and me;
I may not choose the colors, He knows what they should be.
For He can view the pattern upon the upper side
While I can see it only on this, the underside.
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow, which seemeth strange to me;
But I will trust His judgment and work on faithfully.
It's He who fills the shuttle, and He who knows what is best.
So I shall weave in earnest, leaving to Him the rest.
Not 'til the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly
Shall God unroll the canvas and make plain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needed in the Weaver's skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned."

At least, that's how it would read if I'd been able to hang the panels in the correct order. Yes, you heard me correctly: I was unable to count to three correctly. And do you know how hard it is to line up three panels perfectly with the exact same spacing between them? I'll tell you: hard enough that they've been in the incorrect order for months and I haven't been able to work up the energy to rehang them.

I'll get to it one day. Maybe. Or maybe I'll just call it modern art and leave it as it is.

Next to my monitor is a clock. I HAVE to have a clock near me at all times. I am biologically incapable of noticing the passing of time, with the result that I've been late for nearly everything for most of my life. Not anymore! I have a clock on my desk, one in every room of the house, and even one in the bathroom. I'm not saying I'm never late, but at least now I know when I'm going to be late and I'm wracked with the appropriate amount of guilt.

I got this clock for Christmas It's made of wood, but the front panel is shaved so thin that the digital image shines through from inside. Pretty cool, huh?

And of course, no office desk would be complete without photos. I don't have any kids, so in my case the photos are of my furballs.

This is Austin, back in the days before he was a furry, saggy-bellied retiree. And yes, that's dust on the photo frame. I said I was tidying. I didn't say anything about cleaning.

My favorite nook in the office is this one:

It's in the far left corner where the two windows meet, and I use it to display a sample of my scrapbook work and miscellaneous other stuff that doesn't fit anyplace else. I don't know why I keep the cat bed there: Tommy never uses it despite its liberal coating of catnip, preferring instead to sleep on the rug, on my lap, or anywhere else where he's guaranteed to be most in the way.

I'm also quite fond of these baskets. I bought them years ago to fill an empty corner of another house, and I just can't bring myself to throw them away.

I think they look sort of exotic and mysterious. I like to pretend I took them to Africa on safari or haggled for them in a bazaar in Morocco. (Actually, I got them from Pier One, but don't tell anyone.)

I love this little lady on the coffee table. I got her in a market in Germany.

Don't you just love the expression on her face? She doesn't care that she's chubby or wearing a leopard skin leotard. She's just dancing away and anyone who doesn't like it can just get lost, thank you very much.

Next to my German tin dancer is a pile of pencils. Not just any pile: an artistic pile.

 

These pencils actually do work, but they're too big to be really useful. I just think they look cool.

The same applies to the antique kitchen scale above the pencils:

 

I could use it to weigh parcels, but somehow I think UPS expects my weight estimates to be a bit more accurate. No, it's just another tchochke that I picked up in a market somewhere and can't bear to part with.

So there you have it: my newly decluttered office. OK, so it's not exactly minimalist, but at least it's filled with things I like looking at. More importantly, when I walk in I actually feel like sitting down and doing some work. Or watching Doctor Who. Or playing Babble. Or whatever.

Now, onto the closet.

I've been tagged...

This list came from Amy Martin's blog. Feel free to copy and add your own answers. Bold the things you've done in your life.

1. Started your own blog 

2. Slept under the stars

3. Played in a band at school (well, a band WHILE I was at school)

4. Visited Hawaii (Maui)

5. Watched a meteor shower

6. Given more than you can afford to charity

7. Been to Disneyland/world (both)

8. Climbed a mountain

9. Held a praying mantis

10. Sang a solo

11. Bungee jumped

12. Visited Paris

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch (scrapbooking)

15. Adopted a child

16. Had food poisoning

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty

18. Grown your own vegetables (tomatoes when I was 10)

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France

20. Slept on an overnight train

21. Had a pillow fight

22. Hitch hiked

23. Taken a sick day when you're not ill

24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb

26. Gone skinny dipping

27. Run a marathon

28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice

29. Seen a total eclipse

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset

31. Hit a home run

32. Been on a cruise

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors

35. Seen an Amish community

36. Taught yourself a new language (German)

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (for a while, at least)

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person

39. Gone rock climbing

40. Seen Michelangelo's David

41. Sung karaoke

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt

43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant

44. Visited Africa

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight

46. Been transported in an ambulance

47. Had your portrait painted

48. Gone deep sea fishing

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling

52. Kissed in the rain

53. Played in the mud

54. Gone to a drive-in theater

55. Been in a movie

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies

62. Gone whale watching

63. Got flowers for no reason

64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma

65. Gone sky diving

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp

67. Bounced a check (whoops)

68. Flown in a helicopter

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy (I think I have MOST of them!)

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial

71. Eaten caviar

72. Pieced a quilt

73. Stood in Times Square

74. Toured the Everglades

75. Been fired from a job (well, "laid off" by mutual agreement)

76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London

77. Broken a bone

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person

80. Published a book

81. Visited the Vatican

82. Bought a brand new car

83. Walked in Jerusalem

84. Had your picture in the newspaper

85. Read the entire Bible

86. Visited the White House

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

88. Had chickenpox

89. Saved someone's life

90. Sat on a jury

91. Met someone famous

92. Joined a book club

93. Lost a loved one

94. Had a baby

95. Seen the Alamo in person

96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake

97. Been involved in a law suit

98. Owned a cell phone

99. Been stung by a bee

100. Read an entire book in one day

    

Learning to Listen

I've been reading The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands by Dr Laura Schlessinger recently. Now, before you get all "she's a right-wing conservative nut" on me, hear me out. I listen to Dr Laura fairly regularly and I do my share of screaming at the radio at some of the things she says. But I have to say that I think she makes some interesting points in this book.

The ideas that spoke to me seem simple enough. Stop what you're doing and look your partner in the eye when they talk to you. Make yourself presentable when you're going to see them at the end of the day, not matter what kind of day you've had. Treat them as though they're the most important person around. Ask for things you'd like them to do rather than ordering, and thank them when they're done. Basically, treat them with the same amount of respect and courtesy you'd give to a complete stranger.

It sounds a bit "50s housewife," but when you stop and think about it, there's nothing here that's particularly tough to do. We don't have any difficulty doing these things in the workplace or with casual friends. So why is it so hard with our partners?

I grew up in the 70s during the time of the feminist revolution. I was brought up to believe that a woman can be anything, do anything, have everything. I graduated from high school at 16 and immediately went to work full-time. In the late 80s, I stumbled into the fledgling software industry and by the time I was 20, I was an independent consultant. I was a career woman in a predominantly male world, and a young woman at that. The novelty of my gender and youth helped me break the ice at some high-powered presentations and I never had to wait in line for the bathroom at conferences, but those were about the only benefits to being female.

When I had to give a lecture, I wore glasses instead of contacts and little to no makeup. Because after all, being feminine meant not being taken seriously, right? I worked long hours and managed an almost entirely male staff. Sure, I had boyfriends, but I never seemed to meet the one. And men often seemed to be put off by my career or my intelligence. Or so I thought.

Looking back, I can see that it wasn't intelligence that put men off, but my unspoken desire to be essentially the same as a man in all things. Not equal, identical (but with better hair). Somewhere along the line, the pursuit of equality became the pursuit of indistinguishableness (is that even a word?). I had the strange idea that not needing a man would allow my partner and I to function as equal, interchangeable parts of an equation. There was only one problem: the two people in a relationship aren't the same. Equal, but not the same.

Of course, I couldn't have told you that this was my belief: I was too busy standing up for myself to ask those kinds of questions. Until one of my girlfriends asked me one day, "Do you want to be right, or do you want to be in a relationship?" I was horrified. Couldn't I be both?

Well, it turns out that thinking you're right doesn't necessarily mean you have to open your mouth. Who knew? And giving your partner your full attention when they're speaking means they're much more likely to take in what you're saying when it's your turn to speak. Not that I'm great at this, by the way. I still interrupt way too much and I catch myself thinking of my reply instead of truly listening to what the other person is saying, but I'm trying. And a funny thing's starting to happen: I'm remembering why I was so drawn to my partner in the first place. He's smart. He's funny. And he really has interesting things to say.

All this stuff has opened up a whole new world to me. It's like I've been stumbling along in the dark for a long time and all of a sudden, someone's pointed out that I'm wearing eye patches. Which makes me wonder, do some women just KNOW this stuff? Does it come naturally to them, or did they have mothers who tutored them in the art of being a partner? And why did it take me 30 years to figure all this out?

I guess I'm just not as smart as I thought I was.Hallelujah! Finally, something I'm REALLY right about. Yay me! :)

Introducing...Tommy

This is our cat, Tommy.

It's hard to tell from this photo, but he's big. I don't mean heavy (although he's that, too, at 14lbs). I mean BIG. When he lies down and stretches out, he's almost 2.5ft long. He's also the gentlest, most affectionate cat I've ever had. Wherever we are, he is. Whenever you sit down, he's right there with you. He never misses an opportunity for a cuddle or a scratch behind the ears. And he never, ever swipes at you with his claws.

I wanted to get a few pics of Tommy sleeping today:

But he was so darned cute, I couldn't resist grabbing him and burying my face in his thick fur (wait...where's this going?).

Whassat? I was sleeping, dammit.

His fur is so thick and soft I just want to pick him up and squish him sometimes (OK, this is starting to sound really weird...).

But in the end, I generally settle for a less-disturbing head stroke or ear scratch. Tommy never gets tired of this. I mean he NEVER gets tired of it. Other cats will eventually get bored of having your sticky hands all over them, but not him. He'll lie there in a purring, blissed-out haze for hours while you get carpel tunnel syndrome.

Of course, all good things must eventually come to an end. But he's not letting you go without a fight. The hand many not be moving anymore, but it's still his as far as he's concerned. And that's just fine with me.