Yesterday's conversation

Me: [Spills drink.] Crap!
Work Husband Mike: What?
Me: I just spilled my drink down my sleeve. [Look down.] And down the front of my cardigan.
Work Husband Mike: What was it?
Me: Club soda.
Work Husband Mike: Quick! Pour more club soda on it! It'll keep it from staining.

Efficiency, thy embodiment is Jasmin

You know what's awesome? Excel. PivotTables rock my world in ways that you can't even BEGIN to understand. (Unless you know the love that is Excel, of course.)

PivotTables have taken a task that was previously done by hand and - WHOOSH! - with a click and a couple of drag-and-drops, we have data. Highlight the table and we have graphs. (I love graphs.)

Alas, there must be balance in the universe, which is why we have Devil PowerPoint. I find it singularly frustrating that gathering the data in Excel is a breeze, but putting it in a simple PowerPoint presentation is enough to make me tear out handfuls of pink, curly hair. I know that it's purported to be simple enough that six-year-olds can use it; but I'll tell you, I've met some wily six-year-olds.

Maybe THAT is why people have kids. Hmm...

Excersize, discipline, affection

Yesterday was a great day. Mostly.

Got some stuff done at work, ducked out to go to an appointment with Dr. B, followed by a trip to visit Suzy to get my roots re-pinked before my awesome trip to LA. When I was walking from my car to my first appointment, I have to say, the warm sun on my skin felt AMAZING. I can almost see the appeal of tanning. And photosynthesis.

So, I'm supposed to get back into doing yoga regularly, and bring some of the practices into my regular life. This is a good idea, and clearly, too obvious for me to realize on my own.

When I got home from getting re-pinked, I sat down to get back to work. I worked into the late hours of the night, putting out fires. Just after eleven, Niki begins to complain. He doesn't speak when he complains, but he makes this complaining noise that sounds like he's lecturing us.

(Imagine the tonal patterns that go with this lecture, "Do you know what time it is? It is time to go to bed. But YOU are still sitting there in front of that infernal machine." That's what he does. I call him a curmudgeonly old man. I'll try and record it next time.)

By the time we finally got to bed, I had two very tired dogs sprawled on the bed, demanding affection. There was some snuggling, and the obligatory, "Stop biting your sister. Stop biting your brother." That was all over once they heard the melodic sound of kibble being put in their dishes.

Oh, and if you listen to the podcast this week, we're finally airing our chat with Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. It should go live Sunday morning. (All thanks to Sheetal, who found a geek-tastic article on how to make Audacity ACTUALLY work.)

Friday, sweet Friday

There has been some knitting. There has been some spinning. Oh, and I've had some serious IT problems.

Relax, it's my work machine, not my personal machine, but seriously. Today has been ultra-long because my Tuesday and Wednesday were eaten by a MASSIVE hard drive failure. (Also, it's apparent that automatic backups are kind of awesome. I thought it was annoying to have it pop up once a week, but the auto-backups saved my life.)

Once the Work Machine got his new hard drive, I booted him back up, launched Firefox, and...

Nothing.

No bookmarks. 90% of my job is based on having my bookmarks. (In case you're curious, the last 10% is comprised of meetings. I spend more than 10% of my time in meetings, but guess what? I need BOOKMARKS for them.)

Because I am a dinosaur, I didn't have them saved in any sort of bookmark-saving place online. I sauntered back to IT and of course, the day my hard drive decides to go the way of the dodo bird, I am not wearing makeup. I AM, however, wearing a "comfort" sweatshirt (read "oversized and ugly"). This is not a good thing, as makeup and nice clothes seem to expedite all of my service-oriented needs.

(Yes, I know that using my looks to get things done oppresses all women in the long run. But I also use my charm, and since I determined with Dr. B that I'm oppressed anyway, I may as well "shake what my mama gave me". Good looking men work it, too. Yay, feminism!)

Anyway, Mr. IT takes remote control of my computer looking for the last time my bookmarks were backed up. (By the way, this is INCREDIBLY unnerving, especially if you've seen these two episodes [The Big Game and Revelations] of Criminal Minds. Which I have.) So, he pulls up a list, which are bookmarks from when I started working there. Like, close to two years ago.

He finds another, which is marginally more recent (from 6 months ago), and can't find anything more recent. While he's "driving" my computer, I point out the "Bookmarks Backups" folder ("Maybe they're in here?"). Aha! There is the backup from LAST WEEK. Crisis averted.

Afterward, there was much working. Lots of working. But there is an upside to this.

By using the Picard Maneuver, I managed to escape the clutches of the knitting black hole of the Sandi Sweater. I am closing in on the second sleeve with Michael Phelps-like speed. (If he knit. However, I think I may swim faster than he can knit. Take that!)

I've also started spinning up my Atlantis roving from Crown Mountain. It's pretty. In a manly way. Fetching. Dashing. Whatever. Oh, and I'm closing in on completing sock #2 of the vintage Lisa Souza sock yarn.

I've been invited to go see Quantum of Solace with some old friends, but I'm finding myself wanting to see High School Musical 3 more. (Is it just me or is Zac Efron unnaturally cute? He's no Hugh Jackman, but still.)

Speaking of Hugh Jackman, Emy, you were totally right about Van Helsing. Terrible movie. I disagree about the movie eclipsing his hotness. That's like non-planet Pluto eclipsing the sun. It'll never happen. Hugh's hotness is too great. Like the sun.

(I would LOVE to see him play a werewolf in something better. Like Richard Zeeman in a movie adaptation of the Anita Blake books, before Laurell K. Hamilton turned him into a douchebag and made the books all smutty.)

For the record, I would like to state that I saw Scoop for the Hugh Hotness. The only "scoop" it resembled is the one I use for "panning for gold" in the backyard. But he was still HOT.

In short:

1- Technology is out to get me.
2- Knitting is agreeing with me.
3- Hugh Jackman is awesome, regardless of the horrible movies he is in.

Dear Readers: Send a file in a cake.

Olympic progress: Both sleeves are just past decrease #2 (out of 9). I'd include pictures, but top-down raglan sleeves knit at the same time look kind of sad. Trust me, you'll be happier with the pictures of the sleeves attached.

So, if you don't know me in the real world, I'm a little overworked. (See Title.) But, I got a new organizational toy, so that should alleviate some of the stress of trying to manage being a hundred places at once. Now, I just need to be 99 places at once. Baby steps.

I've been working on finishing up organizing my home office, and somehow, this is making the rest of my house tidier. Maybe the other rooms heard about it and are trying to keep up. You know, for appearance's sake. Since the house is tidy, and I've been so exhausted, it's easy to just stay home and enjoy it.

[Here is where I'll add that not going out is also helping with keeping me on the right track with the Social Pressure Experiment.]

The dogs are doing their part to keep me on my toes- Niki is blowing his coat, and we've brushed Elphie's volume in fur off of him. So far. Thank heaven for the Dyson.

Andrew and I are talking about the work that needs to be done on the house. I hate remodeling, but I also think that we live in the Ugliest House Ever. Actually, our house isn't ugly-ugly. It's like really pretty people: lovely on the outside, and ugly as all get-out on the inside.

We've talked about redoing the electrical, the kitchen, the bathrooms, the closets, insulating and adding cabinets to the garage, and/or adding a second story. I'm trying to convince him that it would be a really good idea to put in a hot tub FIRST, so that when we're done slaving for the day, we can go for a soak. So far, he's not going for it, but I'm not giving up yet.

The idea of going through a remodel is giving me hives, emotionally. I have no desire to live in construction, and we're going to have to do some sort of doggie day care while people are working on the house. The saving grace of my current job is that I can work from home while we have people working on the house, so we won't be bled *completely* dry during the process.

Coming soon: some semi-FO pictures of the sweater, and the office!

Preparing for competition

Hello, darling readers.

This week has been really crazy- between Those Who Pay My Bills making demands on my time, our 7^th anniversary, Olympic Training, and the Great Organization Binge of 2008, I’ve been a little busy.

I’ll be doing a review of Shakespeare Santa Cruz’s “All’s Well That Ends Well”- but don’t get excited, it’s not a glowing review. I’m also participating in the 2008 Knitting Olympics/Ravelympics, and if all goes well, when all is said and done, I’ll have a handspun, handknit Ribbi Cardi. I’ll blog around it, but I honestly think that it’s going to be a real challenge to knit it in a couple of weeks, especially given that I’m not taking time off work to compete.

I have informed my Olympic Support Staff (Andrew and the dogs) that they should be prepared to deal with me being less involved in the household tasks, as I am in competition as of tomorrow.

If you’re participating, good luck. I think we’re all going to need it.

Beating the clock

If you've been reading the blog for any length of time, you will have noticed that when I decide to do something, there is no stopping me. Whether it's finding an out-of-print book, or completing a project, it always happens- usually before schedule.

Per Dr. B's instructions to exercise, I've been doing a minimum of half an hour every day. (Notice how I say "minimum". It's been closer to 45 mins- 1hr.) On Monday, I went to the mandatory orientation for the gym at work so that I could start doing time at the gym everyday in lieu of a long, leisurely lunch with WorkHusbandMike.

WHMike was on board on Friday, letting me know he'd be my workout buddy. Come Monday, he was shocked when I insisted on taking the stairs after lunch. (We work on the second floor.)

Those of us in the corporate world know that meetings will be meetings, so WHMike couldn't make it today. So, I went by myself.

I got on the machine, started up the iPod, and did two miles. Mile one took twelve minutes. (This would be the second fastest mile I have done since high school.) Originally, I had decided to do a mile, then get back to the grindstone.

But.

The exercise machines have little LCD data things on them. How many calories you've burned, your time, and the distance you've gone. While I don't care about the calorie bit, watching my distance vs. the time lapsed got my competitive side up and roaring.

I pushed through the stitch in my side (deeeeep breaths!), and did another mile.

In eight and a half minutes. Beating my best time from high school by a minute and a half. That's right. Two miles in UNDER twenty minutes.

I stepped off of the machine, and woo! Light-headed. But, again, I'm feeling really good.

Oh, and it doesn't hurt that my abs and obliques are starting to be all washboard-y.

I come prepared

It’s always good to have your knitting- especially on those days where you’re absolutely certain that you won’t have the opportunity to knit. When I pack my purse, if I hesitate to put knitting in my bag, inevitably, I’ll have something happen where I have HOURS on my hands, with nothing to do.

I had a day like that.

I hesitated about putting my knitting in my bag, but thought better of it and tossed it in anyway. Good thing, too.

One of the tasks I do for work leaves my machine susceptible to viruses, spyware, and other computer VDs. It’s unpleasant. In any case, there was an issue with my machine (which required loading software that took FOREVER to load), and I spent a good chunk of time working on my sock, watching the status bar crawl towards the end.

Which sock?

This one:

Handspun yarn + deep breathing = calm.

Too dumb to be true

Today was one of those off days. You know, the kind where you don’t really want to get out of bed and go to work (because you have three fleeces in your living room), but you realize that you have meetings. Meetings can’t be missed, especially when your work is cool enough to let you do your already awesome job from home when need be.

So, I came in to work, dealt with the morning stuff, had a quick meeting, did more work, and then, bam!

Lunchtime.

I grab my knitting, because when you’re knitting a giant men’s sock (size US 12) in black fingering weight yarn on size 0’s, all those rows add up.

I get two rounds in before everyone sits down for lunch, and I tuck the mini ho-bag behind me so it doesn’t get food on it. I realize, ten minutes after I had gotten up, that my knitting wasn’t with me.

Crap.

Now, I am completely aware that people don’t [normally] steal knitting. But I feel this sense of panic. Not big “my-house-is-ablaze” panic, but “oh-shit-am-I-stupid” panic. There was also some “I-can’t-lose-a-sock-I’m-almost-done-with” panic. It was a veritable tartan of panics, if you will.

I approach engineers sitting at (what I thought) was our table and inquire about my Christmas bag full of knitting, to which I get puzzled looks. I thank them, and keep hunting. I turn around to look around, and someone had thoughtfully placed it visibly on a counter.

A sigh of relief. I tuck a corner in my pocket, and went on to play foosball.

The company I work for was once well-known for its’ foosball tables. I’ve never played foosball, ever. I played with people who were good sports, and weren’t so consumed with winning so as to make the whole thing a nightmare. We played five games, and I scored goals in most of them, I think. I felt really good about it.

I was worried that it would turn into a Competition. At a former job, the group I worked in did a departmental bowling thing, and the Former Boss was one of those fiercely competitive people.

Bowling is not my thing, and though I’ve done it before, when you have small hands, it’s just awkward. Couple that with no real bowling skill, and you have me, a crappy bowler. I don’t always have to win, so I prefer to goof off than suck and sulk about it.

I was the lead weight of our team. Cement boots, even. The sad thing was, that I felt like Former Boss was getting more and more frustrated with my lack of bowling skills. Ignore the fact that I was great at that job, my terrible bowling lowered me in his estimation. I felt worthless. How pathetic that a game was so important (a competition we couldn’t have won due to politics, regardless of our skills or score) as to make me so miserable.

Today was the opposite. I got to play, score a few goals, and make defeated “arrr!” noises.

The Root of All Evil

That's right, you heard it here first! Coming in October 2547:

Hellraiser XXVI, The Root of All Evil
Sometimes, turnips just go bad.

[I won two prizes in the Turnip carving contest at work, which were 4 movie tickets. That's like $7000, last I checked.]

Catching up and catching my breath

So, this last week or so has been pretty long. I don't like to use the blog as a complaint forum (Hello? That's why I have a knitting group!), so I apologize if this sounds like a litany of woes.

Saturday (10/13) we attended a 75^th birthday party for Andrew's uncle. We drove all the way to Grass Valley, and stopped at two incredibly underwhelming yarn shops. In Sacramento, we went to Rumplestilskin, where I bought an out-of-print book. That was it. They had some boring yarn and disappointing roving. The up side was that Andrew got a good look at what a Saxony-style wheel looks like, and I think my next wheel will be a pretty Saxony.

In Grass Valley, we went to a very "stylized" yarn shop, where I wasn't enthused by any of the yarn, and left without buying anything. The fun side of this was that I managed to talk my way into a "closed" yarn shop.

The party was interesting; there's nothing like family to make you appreciate your friends. I wasn't really keen on the seven hour round-trip, but it was better for us to come home and sleep in our own beds and rest on Sunday.

Andrew and I both got pretty sick after that, and spent the better part of last week sick. As we both started to feel better, we decided to go and clean out the townhouse. When I went to gather the cleaning supplies, I noticed a stream of water coming from the water heater.

Fortunately, the home warranty is covering most of it (the expensive part), and we were only without hot water for two and a half days.

I've been actively updating my Ravelry page (I'm "cuteknitter"), so that means there are more photos for the blog as well.

In doggie news, we discovered last night that Niki has lost his ID tag with his name, address, and our phone number. Elphie's is firmly in place, but somehow Hairy Houdini managed to lose JUST that one tag. He still has his "I'm microchipped" tag, rabies tag, and the tag from the rescue. But still.

We've been doing some extra obedience and dominance work with Elphie, which has drastically improved her behavior.

As far as my crack-tastic dreams are concerned, I dreamt that there was a wasp-feeder in our house (like a hummingbird feeder, but you know, for wasps), it was at the top of the vaulted ceiling (which we don't have), and they were the size of Iranian cockroaches.

For knitting content, I'm working on a bunch of socks, my Ribbi Cardi is currently a Ribby Halter, and I pulled yarn out of my stash to cast on the Tangled Yoke Cardigan.

My spinning has been going slow, but that seems to be the consequence of spinning singles that (when 3-plied) are a light fingering weight. It's not good for my project ADD, and I MAY be doing some slightly self-defeating things along the way. Like weighing my bump before I start, and at the end of a disk of Six Feet Under (ahem, 3-4 hours), and noticing that I've only spun 6 grams. Andrew is discouraging the weighing. I can't help it. I need to see progress.

Here's the finished Big Yellow Taxi:

Here's the Wild Thing:

So, to leave you on a more positive note, I got moved to an awesome cube at work, which is bigger than my last cube, gets natural light, and has a view of the window. It has improved my mood something fierce, and I'm not dreading coming into the office anymore. I still hate traffic and EVERYONE who drives on 101.

Except for you. Y'all are awesome.

Oblivious to the Obvious

Or… "In Which Gretchen Scares the Crap Out of Me"

So, Gretchen and I work at the same Big Company. We work in two different (but relatively close) locations. Occasionally, when our hair isn't on fire, we have lunch together.

I also may have reminded Gretch how much she likes spinning by inviting her to spin at the Retzlaff Winery back in June. Not only is she on another spinning kick, but also a lace kick.

In any case, I was running a little late from a meeting I had before lunch and I was a little… distracted. I open the curtain to my cube and MISSED the six foot, redheaded amazon waiting for me, who then yelled, "BOOO!" at the top of her lungs.

I shrieked, and it took me a moment to realize that (a) it was Gretch and (b) I am a dumbass.

Seriously, how distracted do you have to be to miss something like that?

Back in Action

I know that I have been the world's worst blogger, but I assure you that it has been for the best of reasons.

Reason One: My contract at my last place of employment ran out on February 20th. It was then extended to March 20th. On March 21st, I applied for about seven different positions at different companies. On March 23rd I got calls for interviews. In the subsequent week I was interviewing almost every day. I have been busy getting myself a job in my field, taking the very good advice of Former Boss.

Reason Two: Colleen and I have been taking Judith MacKenzie's Comprehensive spinning class which is being hosted by Carolina Homespun. The woman is incredible. We have been staying in a Victorian hotel on Nob Hill, which has Wi-Fi.

Hopefully, I will have something awesome to post soon, but wish me luck with the employment!

Beer, Bowling and BOYS!

Other people have lists of 100 things about themselves. Here is a short list of things that- until today- I didn't know about MYSELF:

• I am not a skilled bowler.
• Drinking beer makes me a significantly better bowler.
• I don't care about competition, but hate being the weakest link on the team- because everyone else cares about winning.
• I like to watch engineers bowl. Some of these guys were really cute- I mean, good bowlers.
• Bowling hurts my fingers.
• I love cake. [Okay, maybe I knew this one.]
  

Yes, that's right, we got to bowl FOR WORK. It was awesome.

Fire!

So, I posted earlier that I was suffering from some serious job burnout. I'm still tired and stressed, but BOY am I happy to be here!

We had a fire drill today. As usual, I was working with my shoes off, and one of the security guys saw me under my desk (tying my shoes), and said, "Hey, you've got to get our of here."

I quickly tie my shoes and grab my purse and follow my team out of the building. The parking lot is FULL of hot guys. No joke. Smiling guy was seen smiling at me, from a distance. The cute guy from around the corner was standing VERY close to me.

It was also a beautiful day, so after ten minutes of sunshine therapy, I felt better about everything.

So in case you weren't following:

Stress + fire drill+ hot guys in the parking lot= Job satisfaction.

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes

Quick update: I am imploding from job stress. My bad knee is freaking out (yes, I am wearing sensible shoes and trying to take care of it), and my shoulder/neck area is so hard you could cut diamonds with my shoulder. (Seriously, jewelers have been following me around.)

Of course, the stress is causing headaches, but I may have found a stress reliever to counteract some of it. It's my own little form of meditation, which I'm not really ready to talk about quite yet. It seems to be working for me, though.

I have seen a glut of babies recently, which has kicked my ovaries into overdrive. So the plan is such:

• Andrew gets a job
• Andrew finishes his thesis
• Andrew gets his Masters.
• We move into a bigger/better house.
• Start having babies.

That's the tentative plan, anyway. Modifications will occur, I'm sure, but for the time being, I'm feeling some serious burnout.

“It’s a blessing… And a curse.”

I love my job. I truly do. It's not a sexy job, despite what my nephew thinks, but I offset that by wearing my sexy shoes to work. As Adrian Monk puts it so succinctly, "It's a blessing… And a curse."

I work with a team of wonderful people, who are all brilliant and funny and charming and generous with their time and chocolate. We all work together, and this is the first time EVER when "group work" did not equal "Jasmin doing everything."

I work for a wonderful, generous man. My manager recognizes hard work and rewards it. He has never made me feel bad about myself [with the exception of my interview, when I thought he was really, really gruff but he was just playing "Bad Cop"], and has dealt with my lack of experience with a sense of humor and a great deal of patience. He also has the grace to make fun of me, to make sure that I really know that I am a valued member of the team. [Teasing = "We like you."]

D [my manager] understands the need for sick days, vacation days, and the importance of leaving early on Fridays. D is the Master of All Managers because he recognizes that by rolling up his sleeves and doing menial tasks with us (like filing or stuffing envelopes) he has won our eternal love and the devotion to work months of consecutive 10+ hour days without complaint. Well, without much complaining. D also will repeatedly tell you to go home when you come in looking like a Dead Rat on a Stick.

D also did not fire me for being sarcastic with him (which has happened increasingly since the first "test" sarcasm), and also did not fire me for offering to "take this outside". He thought it was funny.

I was overjoyed to find out that my 6 month contract (up on 8/20) had been extended for another 6 months (expiring 02/20/07). He also wrote me a very nice note letting me know that I was a valuable member of the team and he recognizes and appreciates my hard work.

Now, I am SO glad that I don't have to worry about finding another job, and worse, having to work for someone who is less that D is. The Curse part?

I don't get to sleep in on Monday and revel in my jobless-ness. Granted, I would get bored to tears without a job, but it's been a hard, but good few months. I think the fact that my "vacation" in May (Maryland Sheep & Wool) was no vacation at all; I wandered for less than an hour the whole 3 days, and dealt with hot (and some unhappy) customers at the Tess booth the rest of the weekend.

MS&W was full of 12-hour days, and your protagonist came back with a nasty sunburn, and had her identity/credit card number stolen. I was more tired than when I left. Bad deal.

This would still be the job I wanted, because I'm learning TONS, and despite the fact that I feel that I'm a complete fraud, I am really good at what I am doing. I would just prefer a more flexible schedule. Like, come in and work as long as you feel like and go home. But I guess that's everyone's dream job.

I've begun climbing the ladder from Office Monkey to someone who is a necessary part of the team. Woo!

A Small Complaint

[This is the e-mail I would have sent if I truly lacked social filters at work. This is not to anyone I work with, rather it is to someone who works on my floor.]

Dear Sir;

Although I appreciate that you are blinded by my amazing ability to multi-task, work overtime, and do any number of other mind-blowing tasks, I would like to remind you that no matter * how * much you would like me to set up your office, that is nowhere near within the scope of my responsibilities.

You may remember when we discussed this about a month ago, I directed you to your Group Admin (who is NOT me, despite my mind-boggling-ly hyphenated title). Since you left and have returned, your requests are still not within the scope of my professional duties.

Furthermore, calling my office first (from two doors down) and then appearing in my doorway five seconds later in order to chastise me for not doing someone else's job was not appreciated. Bless my co-worker's heart who told you where to go to get what you need accomplished. Yet again. She also remembered telling you the last time that I am not only not part of your group, but part of an entirely separate group. Our physical proximity, charming as it may be, does not designate me as your personal go-to person. I do that for my team, and that's more than enough, thanks.

I also do not appreciate the tone of voice which you use when addressing me. I understand that my vibrant personality and the youthful exuberance that I exude may give off the impression that I lack direction and tasks. I assure you that this is not the case. I can also assure you, that despite the fact that I quite possibly am the youngest person on this floor, I deserve to be treated with the same respect you show anyone else. I am not your daughter and I do not work for you. If my manager can be polite and friendly to me, someone as low-ranking and seemingly temporary as yourself can manage to behave similarly.

Also, if I was in charge of setting up your office, based on your attitude, I would make sure it took a long time, was a mess of inconveniences (for you) and any phone that you eventually got would give you testicular cancer.

Best Regards,

Jasmin the Great

Proof that I have the best job ever!

So, I got this from a co-worker. She saw it and thought of me:

To buy it, click here.

Seriously, I love the people I work with.

My Mousing Muscle Hurts

First, I would like to state that I am not a sissy. That having been said, I will continue.

We're doing some stuff at work, stuff that requires much clicking-and-dragging. So, by the end of business (read: "not when I left work- which was after 7") my Mousing Muscle hurt something FIERCE.

It turns out, somehow, by some amazing lack of forethought, I should have stretched the Mousing Muscle. Maybe warmed it up a little. You laypeople would think that typing and "light" mousing all day would be sufficient. Oh, but you would be wrong, as I was.

So now, I have one freakishly buff finger. It's like one of my fingers is on steroids, like one of those body builders. Well, not quite. But we're getting there.

I would do finger push-ups with it, but I'm concerned that this will only make it more freakish in it's muscle-y nature. Sounds like my Mousing Muscle needs to take a few rest days. Except that I am a very slow mouser with all of my other fingers on the same hand (I tried), and my left hand is useless for all things but carrying and knitting.