Peanut butter and bacon on whole-wheat toast. The sandwich can reach no greater heights.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
PB&B
My lunch:
Peanut butter and bacon on whole-wheat toast. The sandwich can reach no greater heights.
Peanut butter and bacon on whole-wheat toast. The sandwich can reach no greater heights.
Cold Blooded
It's only September, and I'm dying to turn on the heater. How will I ever survive winter??
Why I Hate Pigeons
Here's why I hate pigeons:
Because I cannot walk out my back door
or down my back stairs
without stepping in pigeon poo.
(Mind you, we just had our back deck and stairs powerwashed a few months ago to clear away even larger piles of pigeon droppings. Those pigeons don't waste any time.)
The problem is our next-door neighbors. They love animals. Their house (let's call it "ramshackle" -- I think that's the kindest way to put it) is home to at least four dogs, an unknown number of cats, and assorted rodent life that might or might not be invited by the owners. And every day (often twice a day), they go out into the yard and scatter loaves of Wonder bread for the pigeons -- the poor, helpless pigeons who can't possibly fend for themselves. They take in sickly, injured, and deformed pigeons and nurse them back to health -- mostly by scattering bread for them. And then the huge flock of pigeons that feasts on bread in their yard takes shelter from the elements on our back stairwell. When winter sets in, it's just going to get worse.
I can understand loving animals. I, too, love animals. I was a vegetarian for several years (and wish I still could be) because of my love for animals. I'm much more likely to cry at a movie that features animals in danger or distress than humans in the same situations. I cannot watch those animal cop shows on The Animal Planet because they're far too distressing. I want every animal to be happy and loved and cared for.
But even I have some limits.
For example, pigeons. I think those rats with wings, those spreaders of disease and vermin and guano, can take care of themselves just fine. And if they can't, that's what we call Survival of the Fittest. Not only is an unnaturally high pigeon population bad for the ecology of our little neighborhood -- it's bad for the people! Pigeons are not clean! They spread more than sixty known illness-causing bacteria in their droppings!
As upset and horrified and grossed out as we are about this situation, we just don't know what to do about it. We've tried everything we can think of. We've confronted the neighbors on several occasions, to no avail. We've called the city many times -- they used to help us out and threaten the neighbors with expensive fines for feeding pigeons, but now the Bureau of Rodent Control doesn't even return our calls anymore, and those threats didn't do a bit of good.
What can we do?? Can anyone suggest pigeon-control methods? Or ways to deal with those crazy neighbors? I'm at my wits' end.
Because I cannot walk out my back door
or down my back stairs
without stepping in pigeon poo.
(Mind you, we just had our back deck and stairs powerwashed a few months ago to clear away even larger piles of pigeon droppings. Those pigeons don't waste any time.)
The problem is our next-door neighbors. They love animals. Their house (let's call it "ramshackle" -- I think that's the kindest way to put it) is home to at least four dogs, an unknown number of cats, and assorted rodent life that might or might not be invited by the owners. And every day (often twice a day), they go out into the yard and scatter loaves of Wonder bread for the pigeons -- the poor, helpless pigeons who can't possibly fend for themselves. They take in sickly, injured, and deformed pigeons and nurse them back to health -- mostly by scattering bread for them. And then the huge flock of pigeons that feasts on bread in their yard takes shelter from the elements on our back stairwell. When winter sets in, it's just going to get worse.
I can understand loving animals. I, too, love animals. I was a vegetarian for several years (and wish I still could be) because of my love for animals. I'm much more likely to cry at a movie that features animals in danger or distress than humans in the same situations. I cannot watch those animal cop shows on The Animal Planet because they're far too distressing. I want every animal to be happy and loved and cared for.
But even I have some limits.
For example, pigeons. I think those rats with wings, those spreaders of disease and vermin and guano, can take care of themselves just fine. And if they can't, that's what we call Survival of the Fittest. Not only is an unnaturally high pigeon population bad for the ecology of our little neighborhood -- it's bad for the people! Pigeons are not clean! They spread more than sixty known illness-causing bacteria in their droppings!
As upset and horrified and grossed out as we are about this situation, we just don't know what to do about it. We've tried everything we can think of. We've confronted the neighbors on several occasions, to no avail. We've called the city many times -- they used to help us out and threaten the neighbors with expensive fines for feeding pigeons, but now the Bureau of Rodent Control doesn't even return our calls anymore, and those threats didn't do a bit of good.
What can we do?? Can anyone suggest pigeon-control methods? Or ways to deal with those crazy neighbors? I'm at my wits' end.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
More Confessions of a Bad Mother
Am I a bad mother for letting the girls hang out in their cribs for extended periods of time when they're clearly no longer napping (as if they ever were napping) just so I can surf the web or play World of Warcraft in peace? I mean, they're not sad in there. They're not crying. They're playing with their crib toys and chattering at each other across the room. They like it in there! I'll get them out the minute they start crying!
Is that so bad?
Is that so bad?
Sunday, September 17, 2006
My unpopular opinions about what it means to be an editor
I don't pretend to be the best editor around. I think I do well enough, although I'm sometimes a bit sloppy (please refrain from combing through this blog and bringing the typos and other errors to my attention).
There's a type of editor I've encountered many times over the course of my editing career -- I think of them as the persnickety editors, the editors who will defend a style guide to the death and make complicated or cumbersome changes to text not because it helps convey meaning but because the style guide tells them to. These editors learned a handful of die-hard editing rules somewhere along the way, and they cling to these rules with a foolish consistency that serves no purpose other than to gratify their own sensibilities. They eschew the editorial "we" in all cases because they were once told it was wrong. They rebel against passive voice every time they encounter it because they were trained early on to do so. Their infinitives are never split.
I, too, spent my formative editing years in just such an environment, with the most persnickety of persnickety editors as my mentors. I learned that every "on the other hand" must be preceded by an "on the one hand" and that if you leave a phrase such as "small business owner" without a hyphen, your poor, stupid readers might* be confused enough to think you're talking about very small people who own businesses.
(*I must confess that I very nearly typed "may" instead of "might" in that sentence but changed it because of my own ingrained set of persnickety rules, which includes this: "might" is for probability, while "may" is for permission.)
I've been out in the editing world long enough that I finally feel justified in having some opinions of my own, and here's what I've come to believe (bear in mind that my editing experience is restricted to non-fiction, primarily technical in nature): The persnickety editors are, in my opinion, far too caught up in whether each phrase is "correct" according to their style guide or their internal set of rules, and they are incapable of looking at the big picture. Does the text make sense? Does it communicate its point in a manner that the target audience will be able to understand? Do I, the editor, understand it?
An editor's first and primary job is to ensure that the text they're editing conveys meaning as simply and clearly as possible. It is best to leave the author's voice intact as much as possible, which means making the fewest possible changes. If something is downright wrong, then by all means fix it. We will not allow a misused its/it's or their/there/they're or to/too/two or every day/everyday, and so on and so forth. But do most readers really care whether there's an "on the one hand" as long as what they're reading makes sense? Do we really need to get caught up in the minutiae of language that only other editors care about? And, if we really must get caught up in the minutiae, can it not be secondary to conveying meaning? (Can I not stop asking rhetorical questions?)
Here's what I'm opposed to: editors who do not understand what they're editing, but who only go through the motions, making sure each sentence has the necessary parts and appropriate punctuation, regardless of what all those words are saying. Pay attention! Educate yourselves! Edit meaningfully! And don't worry so much about whether to use may or might, since or because, each other or one another. Just make sure the words make sense.
There's a type of editor I've encountered many times over the course of my editing career -- I think of them as the persnickety editors, the editors who will defend a style guide to the death and make complicated or cumbersome changes to text not because it helps convey meaning but because the style guide tells them to. These editors learned a handful of die-hard editing rules somewhere along the way, and they cling to these rules with a foolish consistency that serves no purpose other than to gratify their own sensibilities. They eschew the editorial "we" in all cases because they were once told it was wrong. They rebel against passive voice every time they encounter it because they were trained early on to do so. Their infinitives are never split.
I, too, spent my formative editing years in just such an environment, with the most persnickety of persnickety editors as my mentors. I learned that every "on the other hand" must be preceded by an "on the one hand" and that if you leave a phrase such as "small business owner" without a hyphen, your poor, stupid readers might* be confused enough to think you're talking about very small people who own businesses.
(*I must confess that I very nearly typed "may" instead of "might" in that sentence but changed it because of my own ingrained set of persnickety rules, which includes this: "might" is for probability, while "may" is for permission.)
I've been out in the editing world long enough that I finally feel justified in having some opinions of my own, and here's what I've come to believe (bear in mind that my editing experience is restricted to non-fiction, primarily technical in nature): The persnickety editors are, in my opinion, far too caught up in whether each phrase is "correct" according to their style guide or their internal set of rules, and they are incapable of looking at the big picture. Does the text make sense? Does it communicate its point in a manner that the target audience will be able to understand? Do I, the editor, understand it?
An editor's first and primary job is to ensure that the text they're editing conveys meaning as simply and clearly as possible. It is best to leave the author's voice intact as much as possible, which means making the fewest possible changes. If something is downright wrong, then by all means fix it. We will not allow a misused its/it's or their/there/they're or to/too/two or every day/everyday, and so on and so forth. But do most readers really care whether there's an "on the one hand" as long as what they're reading makes sense? Do we really need to get caught up in the minutiae of language that only other editors care about? And, if we really must get caught up in the minutiae, can it not be secondary to conveying meaning? (Can I not stop asking rhetorical questions?)
Here's what I'm opposed to: editors who do not understand what they're editing, but who only go through the motions, making sure each sentence has the necessary parts and appropriate punctuation, regardless of what all those words are saying. Pay attention! Educate yourselves! Edit meaningfully! And don't worry so much about whether to use may or might, since or because, each other or one another. Just make sure the words make sense.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Had I but world enough and time...
I feel compelled to begin this by saying that I love my life. I have very nearly everything a girl could hope for. I love my wonderful husband and my amazing kids. Every one of you should wish you had my life. (I truly believe that, but I'll try not to rub it in your face.)
That said, having twins and becoming a stay-at-home mom (surely there's a better term for that) has changed my life in more ways than I could have imagined. The vast majority of those changes are for the good, and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. However, there are a few things I miss, things about my old life that I wistfully daydream about while wiping food off toddlers' faces, jamming sharp blocks into my instep, and protecting poor Pepper's eyes from being gouged out by curious girls. Those things are, in no particular order:
Reading: I used to be an avid reader. I'd read any book that came my way -- fiction or non, science and cyberpunk and Jane Austen and Lemony Snicket. I used to log at least one book every month in my book log. Now I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Goodnight Moon.
Knitting: Many of you know that I was once a devoted and skilled knitter. I'd spend hours at a time working away on sweaters or blankets or scarves the size of blankets. I have a yarn stash that takes up much precious space in this not-so-large condo. Will I ever get to use it? I fear not.
Writing: I once dreamed of writing The Great American Novel. (I had no idea what it was going to be about. I just wanted to write it. Actually, I wanted to have written it, fast-forwarding straight to the praise, adulation, and millions of dollars.) Now, all of my writing ends up right here on the blog. And you know and I know that more often than not, I just post a large picture with a short comment. Pathetic.
Sleeping: I used to joke that I suffered from somnia -- the opposite of insomnia. I love to sleep. I'd sleep for 10, 12, 14 hours a day if I could. And let me tell you just how much sleep a mother of 15-month-old twins gets (especially now that they're giving up their morning nap): not much.
Spontaneity: When you have twins, they tell you to enforce a strict schedule. Everyone gets up, eats, naps, and goes to bed at the same time. Otherwise, you have complete chaos. I've taken that advice to heart, and for the first time it my life, I stick with military precision to a rigid schedule that varies very little from day to day. And after more than a year of this, I am just about to lose my mind.
Size 6: Goodbye, pre-maternity pants. I'd like to think we'll meet up again someday, but that doesn't seem likely.
That extra bedroom: Once upon a time, all of our miscellaneous clutter could be piled up in our spare bedroom (the "office," we called it -- "junk room" would have been more accurate). And when it got too overwhelmingly messy in there, all I had to do was close the door and pretend it wasn't there. These days, that room is occupied by two cribs, a rocking chair, a changing table, etc. And all that clutter? Everywhere.
I'm not complaining. I love my life. But is it so wrong to have just a tiny bit of nostalgia for things that used to be?
That said, having twins and becoming a stay-at-home mom (surely there's a better term for that) has changed my life in more ways than I could have imagined. The vast majority of those changes are for the good, and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. However, there are a few things I miss, things about my old life that I wistfully daydream about while wiping food off toddlers' faces, jamming sharp blocks into my instep, and protecting poor Pepper's eyes from being gouged out by curious girls. Those things are, in no particular order:
Reading: I used to be an avid reader. I'd read any book that came my way -- fiction or non, science and cyberpunk and Jane Austen and Lemony Snicket. I used to log at least one book every month in my book log. Now I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Goodnight Moon.
Knitting: Many of you know that I was once a devoted and skilled knitter. I'd spend hours at a time working away on sweaters or blankets or scarves the size of blankets. I have a yarn stash that takes up much precious space in this not-so-large condo. Will I ever get to use it? I fear not.
Writing: I once dreamed of writing The Great American Novel. (I had no idea what it was going to be about. I just wanted to write it. Actually, I wanted to have written it, fast-forwarding straight to the praise, adulation, and millions of dollars.) Now, all of my writing ends up right here on the blog. And you know and I know that more often than not, I just post a large picture with a short comment. Pathetic.
Sleeping: I used to joke that I suffered from somnia -- the opposite of insomnia. I love to sleep. I'd sleep for 10, 12, 14 hours a day if I could. And let me tell you just how much sleep a mother of 15-month-old twins gets (especially now that they're giving up their morning nap): not much.
Spontaneity: When you have twins, they tell you to enforce a strict schedule. Everyone gets up, eats, naps, and goes to bed at the same time. Otherwise, you have complete chaos. I've taken that advice to heart, and for the first time it my life, I stick with military precision to a rigid schedule that varies very little from day to day. And after more than a year of this, I am just about to lose my mind.
Size 6: Goodbye, pre-maternity pants. I'd like to think we'll meet up again someday, but that doesn't seem likely.
That extra bedroom: Once upon a time, all of our miscellaneous clutter could be piled up in our spare bedroom (the "office," we called it -- "junk room" would have been more accurate). And when it got too overwhelmingly messy in there, all I had to do was close the door and pretend it wasn't there. These days, that room is occupied by two cribs, a rocking chair, a changing table, etc. And all that clutter? Everywhere.
I'm not complaining. I love my life. But is it so wrong to have just a tiny bit of nostalgia for things that used to be?
Monday, September 11, 2006
Coolest Birthday Ever! (Or: The Hubby Feeds My Alton Brown Obsession)
My husband is the coolest husband on the block.
Here's what he just gave me for my birthday:
The Alton Brown fans among my dear readers (I think it's just you and me, Kerri) will recognize this as AB's signature saltcellar (or sodium chloride containment unit).
But wait! It isn't just your plain old, average, run-of-the-mill saltcellar. Oh no, my friends. Observe:
Autographed by the man himself!! I'm not sure I'll even be able to bring myself to use it for fear of sullying that signature caricature. And in the box, under the saltcellar, I found this:
Be still, my heart. Alton Brown wished me a wonderful birthday. Me. Alton Brown. Wonderful. I don't think there's any point in having birthdays henceforth, because they're not going to get any better than this.
Sometimes I'm not sure whether I have a bigger crush on Airan or Alton. (It's Airan, trust me.) I'm not entirely sure how Airan managed this (he claims he was in Atlanta on "business" last week...), but I'm not asking too many questions. I'm just too excited! Quick, send me recipes that use kosher salt!
Here's what he just gave me for my birthday:
The Alton Brown fans among my dear readers (I think it's just you and me, Kerri) will recognize this as AB's signature saltcellar (or sodium chloride containment unit).
But wait! It isn't just your plain old, average, run-of-the-mill saltcellar. Oh no, my friends. Observe:
Autographed by the man himself!! I'm not sure I'll even be able to bring myself to use it for fear of sullying that signature caricature. And in the box, under the saltcellar, I found this:
Be still, my heart. Alton Brown wished me a wonderful birthday. Me. Alton Brown. Wonderful. I don't think there's any point in having birthdays henceforth, because they're not going to get any better than this.
Sometimes I'm not sure whether I have a bigger crush on Airan or Alton. (It's Airan, trust me.) I'm not entirely sure how Airan managed this (he claims he was in Atlanta on "business" last week...), but I'm not asking too many questions. I'm just too excited! Quick, send me recipes that use kosher salt!
Sunday, September 10, 2006
I always thought Janice Dickinson and I shared a certain something...
Does Drew Barrymore not look totally wasted in that picture? It figures that, in order for me to look like Drew, she'd have to look like complete crap first.(Confession: I shamelessly stole this idea from Sonya -- hope you don't mind, Sonya!)
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Monday, September 04, 2006
Geography Pop Quiz
I found this Middle East geography quiz to be an interesting and enlightening challenge. I got a string of eight or so countries with not much trouble, but then I was stumped. (I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't get Iraq on my first try.) How about you? (Thanks to Julie for sharing this quiz with me.)
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