Sonnet 87 » Where Knowledge Leaves Off

A Short, Motely Post

WordNerd — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 12:15:00 +0000

The thing with having a new job is this: you no longer get to complain about how messed up your old job was. And on a blog like Sonnet 87, which thrived on the indignities I encountered in my last three years at the old job, that leads to little content.

My former routine/to-do list at my old job!

That’s a lie, though. I have plenty of things to say, but since my schedule’s changed and my routine is sort of still falling into place, I haven’t devoted much time to writing. Even my reading has slumped off a bit, and what I’ve done lately has been prescriptive, so that’s why the review category has been more or less silent. However! Remember the book I had to read for my book club that had me in a tizzy, and I promised I’d admit to liking it if, in fact, I did like it?

Well, I hated it. It was exactly the kind of book Stephen King described in the wonderful quote I used in that blog post—no nourishment whatsoever. We’re discussing it this week. I can’t wait to (gently) rip it to shreds. When you choose to write in the first person, but then decide you need to do some third-person limited exposition, and it transitions within the same chapter? Fucking lazy and jarring, man. Make it work with the narration you’ve chosen. And don’t even get me started on the improbable plot, the unsympathetic and flat characters, and the oh-so predictable outcome that is going to turn this one book into a series. This book went immediately onto my So Terribly Bad list on Goodreads. You can rest assured that I will do my best to block any attempts to read the follow up when it emerges from the unholy cocoon in which it’s currently incubating. This author is going onto my Picoult list.

So there’s that.

In other, more important news, IP and I have recently celebrated our second wedding anniversary. We had a wonderful dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, then enjoyed some anniversary cake from a local baker (who did a good job in imitating the cake’s design; taste wise, the cake was fine, but not as delicious as our wedding and first anniversary cakes). We reminisced about what we were doing on the days leading up and including the wedding—right now we’re hiding at Dominick’s, remember? Now we’re setting up centerpieces the night before the wedding, you trying to calm me down when the stanchions wouldn’t hold up our table name plaques. Now we’re at the cookout on the day after, wrinkling our noses at the idea of cheese-filled sausage. Even though I’ll forever say that wedding planning was a pain in the ass and tell brides of my charming, sob-filled breakdown a few days before leaving for Michigan (“Are you crying because you’re overwhelmed?” “No, I’m crying BECAUSE I BROUGHT IT ALL ON MYSELF!”), there are many, many amazing memories from those few days, and we continue to make them as time passes. So a happy anniversary to my husband, who is always there no matter what I’ve recently brought down on myself.

And so it goes. Perhaps one day soon I’ll get a routine set down and start doing some blogging again. A book review here and there would be nice, as well!

A Little Bit of Everything All Rolled into One

WordNerd — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 14:00:00 +0000

Oh, don’t pretend to be all snotty and dismissive. You know the lyrics to that song and you’re singing it right now. You’re welcome. Speaking of which, did you known Meredith Brooks did a children’s album? So did the Verve Pipe. Huh.

So this post? As the title would indicate, randomness shall abound.

Welcome to August! In a couple of weeks, IP and I will be celebrating our second anniversary, hopefully complete with a one-layer replica of our wedding cake. I’ve asked a local bakery to take on the job since we’re not in Michigan to go to our original baker, but as of this writing I haven’t heard from said bakery. They initially did respond, saying that they’d be happy to do a cake for 30-50 people. Um . . . I said mini replica, not wedding cake. At most I would want it to serve 10, and that’s with me deciding that yes, indeed, I will take some to my new coworkers. Which I can’t guarantee because, duh, cake. We shall see—I might have to go to another baker if I don’t here from them by this afternoon.
Chris Osgood is retiring! It’s hard to believe, given that I’ve been watching him play since he was so young, but it’s true. My favorite goalie is hanging up the skates and I doubt anyone could ever take his place in my heart. I’m a bit sad, but realistic—he’s been injured quite a bit lately and Jimmy Howard is up and coming. Ozzie will be staying with the team, helping in the development of new goalies (and my sister and I envision him having the rookies run errands for him, playing his bad jokes on them, and making them get him his Frappuccino). Kidding aside, I’ll miss Ozzie, and if I had to list my favorite moment from him, it’d be his interview after winning the 1998 Stanley Cup. When asked what he was feeling, he said, in a choked up voice, “Everything, really.” My sister and I awwwed at the time, but we knew what he meant. He’d given up some pretty bad goals throughout all four series to get to the Cup, but he was solid 99% of the time. Detroit can be cruel to its goalies, but to see Ozzie vindicated made us happy. And it meant so much that year, after the car accident that hurt Vladimir Konstantinov and Sergei Mnatsakanov after the win in 1997. Ozzie seems like such a joker but he can wear his heart on his sleeve when it comes time to play. People who said he was a mediocre goalie with a good team in front of him? Fuck ‘em. He was awesome and stood on his head for Detroit. His excitement when the clock ran down in 1998 has stuck in my head ever since I watched that win—I love it. And then he did it again in 2008. For that, all I can is thanks. You kicked ass, Ozzie: enjoy your retirement! Very happy I got to see you play, even if it was only once in D.C. (and you lost, but that’s cool—the Caps got lucky even though the Wings dominated the game). And now a video of that 1998 win (against the Caps, hehe). Look for Ozzie throwing down his gloves to celebrate at 1:39 (and please ignore “Heroes” by the Wallflowers—it’s best if we all do).

My reading has slowed down significantly; partly it’s the shorter commute, partly it’s the inability to concentrate on the weekends when it comes to reading. I’m in the process of reading David Foster Wallace’s Brief Interviews with Hideous Men; I’m enjoying it so far (an accomplishment for someone who’s not much into postmodernism). I have a gajillion books that I’ve purchased since the last book list and I wonder how I’m ever going to tackle them even as I’m adding more books to my to-read list on Goodreads. So much good stuff to read, so little time to do so, which makes me wonder why people waste their time reading crap like . . . well, let’s just say that I feel like my book club is slowly devolving given some recent developments, but that’s another post.
IP and I are working on what I’ve secretly (well, not now since he’s reading this) dubbed Project Finance. In involves getting our shit together, double-checking the insurances we have, maxing out our 401(k)s, opening new accounts, getting rid of my student loan, and melding our finances a bit better. We’ve kept things mostly separate until this year when IP started tackling my student loan. At first it was awkward for me; I’m really bad at talking about finances partly because I think a) money sucks and 2) I’m bad at managing money. Never mind that I pay off any credit card usage immediately, contributed significantly to my 401(k) at my old job even if I didn’t max out and tried very hard to keep everything on the up and up. I also insisted on splitting finances 50/50, which wasn’t the smartest because IP makes significantly more than I do, but for me it was a matter of principle; I had to know that I was contributing equally or else I’d feel like a failure. We’re (or, honestly, I’m) slowly adjusting to the fact that 1) we’re bonded for life (quick, what’s that from?) and what we both bring in is both of ours, and b) talking about financial stuff isn’t all that bad. IP told me that the last thing he ever wanted to come between us was money, and he’s right: it’s a leading cause of breakups and we’re too, too good together to let some Washingtons and Lincolns get in our way. Besides, we have to be smart as we peer into the horizon to see what’s coming next.

So that’s about it. I do have some bloggy ideas that I’m going to attempt to write after this one right here (written last Saturday night) and try to actually have a full posting week.

Back from Over the Rainbow

WordNerd — Mon, 16 May 2011 12:15:00 +0000

At the end of Unfamiliar Fishes by Sarah Vowell, she contrasts two songs by the artist Israel “Iz” Kamakawiwo’ole—his cover of “Over the Rainbow” and “Hawaii ‘78.” This cover of “Over the Rainbow” is ridiculously well known, and Vowell is right when she writes that “anyone who has been to any of the islands for more than fifteen minutes and hasn’t heard Iz’s cover of ‘Over the Rainbow’ at least fives times is not paying attention.” Vowell’s contrast is this: the cover of “Over the Rainbow” somehow communicates that you’re actually in that perfect place while in Hawaii (and not just longing for it as the song says); “Hawaii ‘78” mourns what Hawaii actually is now. As Vowell puts it, “Hawaii ‘78′” is the bizarro B side of “Over the Rainbow.”

But you hear it everywhere, that cover of “Over the Rainbow.” Case in point: I heard it at around 5pm on Friday night, laying on the beach in Cancún, watching the staff of our resort set up for a sunset wedding. I listened to the song, remembering what I had read earlier in the week, on the same beach, and thought to myself: I’ve been to Hawaii. I’ve heard this song a million times there. I’ve been to places beyond Hawaii’s shores that are incredibly beautiful and are experiencing the fight for culture that Hawaii is in ‘Hawaii ‘78’ and have heard the cover a million times there. I’ve heard the cover used in TV commercials. I hadn’t heard the cover in Cancún, though.

And Cancún was where I liked it best.

When I say Cancún, a lot of people think back to their own days down there, stuffed eight to a room and getting sick on the beach at night, having wild spring breaks where probably too much was lost and not enough was learned.

The Cancún that IP and I go to is different. Very different.

It’s about going home, in a sense. It’s about appreciating the vast knowledge and beauty that was once the purview of the Mayans. It’s about recognizing that there’s a deeper story to Cancún than what the tourists bring; it’s about learning and wanting to know more about the history behind this relatively young tourist destination. It’s about spending a week with wonderful people who are funny as hell and great to talk to—and I’m not talking about my fellow tourists. It’s about spending a week reconnecting with each other and with the inner peace that seems to fly away so easily in Washington, D.C.

It’s about serenity, and the quiet little resort that we’ve grown to love, tucked away from the general chaos of the hotel zone, offers us peace in spades. We’re apart from the world, yes, but sometimes it’s needed.

We needed it this year. Badly. And we’ll need it again.

At least now we know how to find what’s over the rainbow.

See you in about a year, Cancún.

Us Now, Part V: Nine Years Ago Today

WordNerd — Fri, 13 May 2011 12:15:45 +0000

So the week ends with a reminiscence about the first time IP and I met. Here we are, nine years later, still going strong and still loving the moments we spend together. It seems like yesterday we first laid eyes on each other, though—time really does fly when you’re having fun. Which probably means that the time we’ve spent in Cancún this past week has flown by entirely too fast and I’ll be back on Monday with (possibly) new material.

March 31, 2011: Nine Years Ago Today

Us Now, Part IV: Nifty Things about My Husband

WordNerd — Thu, 12 May 2011 12:15:13 +0000

I’m not going to lie: IP is all sorts of awesome. He tells me he thinks that I’m sorts of awesome, too. Aww, shucks. But anyway: there are times when I just have to express it on this blog. IP is one of the most understanding, wonderful, loving and amazing people I know, and I don’t hesitate to share that with the general public. We work hard to be what we are together, so why not celebrate it from time to time?

Or celebrate each other in order to help ease a tough week? This post was written as a way to get my husband to smile during a week when there wasn’t much to smile about. Those things were nifty then and they’re nifty now.

June 15, 2010: Nifty Things about My Husband

Us Now, Part III: IP’s Ginger Ail

WordNerd — Wed, 11 May 2011 12:15:03 +0000

A test of our engagement—can it survive IP’s hate of Vernors ginger ale? Well, yes, but it’s still a damn funny post because of IP’s crazy hyperbole when referring to the color of Vernors. And you have to realize: this is IP all the time. I love it!

Mathgeek has told me that this is one his all-time favorite posts here at Sonnet 87. I have to admit: I have a soft spot for it, too.

June 2, 2009: IP’s Ginger Ail

Us Now, Part II: I Don’t Kiss on Command

WordNerd — Tue, 10 May 2011 12:15:58 +0000

Weddings are fraught with the tension between tradition and the desires of the couple. While the end result was awesome (IP and I are married! Huzzah!), getting there was no joke thanks to the expectations set by tradition. And even on the day of, when you’re trying to let go and relax a little bit since the planning is over (and just go with the flow, really), there’s still some tradition that tries to weasel its way into your day. But we weren’t having it.

We’ve always been proud of going our own way, and wedding planning and day-of behavior was no exception. If we hated a tradition and didn’t want to do it or turn it on its head, we did, as illustrated in this response to the damn wine glass clinking at weddings.

October 3, 2009: I Don’t Kiss on Command

Us Now, Part I: Engaged, ¡En Fuego! Style

WordNerd — Mon, 09 May 2011 12:15:27 +0000

So what happens when you take a woman, a man, a trip to Hawaii, and 6.5 years of being together? A proposal in front of a triple-tier waterfall, of course. Like, duh.

In case you missed IP’s proposal to me in 2008, it’s the first highlight in the This Is Us Now week. How romantic can a man who says he’s as romantic as the federal budget cycle be? Pretty damn romantic, it turns out.

July 27, 2008: Engaged, ¡En Fuego! Style

This Is Us Now

WordNerd — Fri, 06 May 2011 12:15:00 +0000

Holy shit! We’re five months into the year already? When did that happen?

Yet here we are, sitting pretty in May. May Day, May the Fourth (be with you) and Cinco de Mayo have all passed; next we have Mother’s Day, Memorial Day and Paul Simon in D.C. Day (aka, my birthday) coming up.

Amongst all that, though, is the long-awaited return to Cancún that IP and I have been planning since we got back from Cancún last year. We’re heading out this weekend to those beautiful blue Caribbean waters, unlimited alcohol, awesome food, great tours and vacation sex.

I’ve been leaving you bereft, however, of substantive posts since work has been insane and I haven’t had the motivation or even subjects on which to write. But leave you bereft for this coming week I will not—you’ll be getting some remember when posts, a la last April and June.

(And yes, I know I just committed the D.C. Blogs cardinal sin of explaining and apologizing for my lack of posts—whatevs. I know there are [a few, granted, but they’re there] people who read me and have been clicking through regularly to see what’s up and have found nada.)

The subject this time around? IP and me engaged and married—call the upcoming week “This Is Us Now,” if you will. I did a “Before You Knew D.C. Me” which also included snapshots of IP back in the day; this time around it’s a collection of the best posts of us as us these days—serious, silly, contemplative, encouraging and loving.

Have a great week and enjoy the trip down (recent) memory lane starting Monday morn.

Random Thoughts for a Non-Shutdown Monday

WordNerd — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 12:15:00 +0000

Should I make the claim that I have effectively and single-handedly made sure that the shutdown didn’t happen by jinxing myself (in a sense)? If so, you’re welcome! Kidding aside, I will not lie: I was looking forward to a break from the prison that is my job. As one of my friends said, I was prepared for a shutdown; I was not prepared for the government to not shut down. And now I will confess that I am somewhat bummed.

At least Cancún is on the horizon.

So, how about some random thoughts, hmm?

When I left work on Friday, the entire agency seemed to be holding its breath. The whole day was like that; many people were missing because they were either heading to the airport for a conference (from which they may have had to turn back on Saturday morning had the shutdown happened) and the rest of the occupied offices held tense federal employees intent on keeping their heads down. As I left, I said to my boss, “This seems like the last day of high school. Sign my yearbook?” That made him burst out laughing.
Because I’m so proud of my 2011 Cherry Blossom 10 Mile Run accomplishment, I ordered a finisher’s medal (at $15 a pop) to add to my collection (which only holds the 2006 New York City Marathon finisher’s medal because the 2005 Nike Women’s Half-Marathon Tiffany necklace didn’t last long). It’s a bit silly to order it after the fact, but it looked cool and I decided I might as well have a marker of my accomplishment (since I’m hesitant to pay for the race photos because they’re just so damn pricey). I won’t know if I’ll actually get one until April 18, but the email from the organizers said it was likely. Woohoo! (At least I have the technical tee already, though.) Onto hoping that I get in for next year . . .
Everyone was focused on my right eye on Friday. It had been bothering me a bit on Thursday night (the contact kept on getting blurry), but I thought nothing of it. I didn’t feel anything, either, when I popped the contact in on Friday. But nearly of all my coworkers asked me what the hell was wrong with my eye. I finally went to the bathroom to look and HOLY HELL! My right eye looked like it had been infected with the Rage virus from 28 Days/Weeks Later.

This was me, minus the whole deadly virus thing

I ended up taking my contacts out (lucky that I carry my extra pair of glasses with me) and my eyes has slowly but surely started to calm down (so hopefully my throat won’t be ripped out when IP gives me a kiss and is promptly infected with the virus).

When it comes to feeling lucky, I experience the sensation in spades thanks to my marriage and friendship with IP; however, I get positively geeked when IP and I discuss and dissect books that we’ve both read. When growing up, I always thought it’d be hard to find someone who understood and embraced my personality quirks, my need for alone time, my sometimes jabbering talk, my weird and sarcastic humor, and my absolute fixation on reading. When I met IP, I was happy (and a bit surprised given his focus in grad school) to discover that he was as enthralled by words and books as I was. These days, we have discussions regularly on books we’ve read, measuring agreement and disagreement and helping each other see new perspectives in the books we’ve read in common. IP in general strikes me as an unusual husband when compared to, say, The Nest’s posters’ husbands; he actually cleans without nagging (if anyone’s guilty about being lax on the cleaning front, it’s yo!), cooks like a talented culinary fiend, never complains if I ask him for a favor, is conscious and considerate of my feelings and emotion, doesn’t take me for granted, and reads books that go beyond your Michael Crichtons and Tom Clancys (not that there’s anything wrong with reading that stuff—I just don’t read it myself, so I can’t discuss it). I am extremely lucky, but I am supremely conscious of it when we have book discussions because it is so much fucking fun. If we couldn’t talk about books, I’d be a sad panda. And hell, just being able to recommend books to each other (and have an awesome library in our living room that’s filled to the brim again even though we did a culling in December)? Oh hells to the yeah!
Speaking of books, here is something I’m terribly bad at: lending good books. I hate it. It’s partly because a) I’ve lent out books that have never returned to me and 2) I’ve lent out books and they’re returned to me unread (going back to the whole not being able to discuss books with people deal). I like keeping our books together, in alpha order on our bookshelves, singing out my memories of reading them when I pass by. I remember once in a my book club a former member suggested we should bring books to swap, eying me in particular as she said this (I had just finished recommending a few books and was so enthusiastic about them that many of my fellows members expressed interest). While everyone else exclaimed what a great idea this was, I kind of demurred and gave a half-nod, unwilling to give my full endorsement. Why? I don’t like my books getting away from me. Call me stingy and selfish, but I’d rather recommend and they buy. Also, when a swap happens, it seems like there’s unspoken agreement that no, you will never see your book again. And that’s just not acceptable! We never did do a book swap, for which I am grateful. I’d just turn up with the books that IP and I have designated for donation to the local library.

I'm obnoxious, but not obnoxious enough to consider using this

And that’s it for random thoughts on a non-shutdown Monday! You may assume that I am moping at work, wishing I were at home running a few miles.