Month: July 2008

  • the housecleaning extends to the electronic

    gasmaskHi! How’s the summer going for you? Mine has been great! I do, however, sport the pallor of an agoraphobic, with all my home organizing (and now quilting) keeping me indoors a tetch too much.

    Whilst I remedy that this fine August by strapping on the sneakers and heading out on a walk by the ocean I live next to (for crying out loud), going to the Fair, and generally fal-der-ee-ing my way around my beautiful town, I shall engage in a housecleaning of a different kind.

    My blog’s “Drafts” folder is full of half-assed, half-started posts, and I plan to purge purge purge this month, and post daily whatever dribs and drabs that might be of interest. By the end of August, there will be no saved Drafts. That outta make NaBloPoMo extra-challenging, yay!

    I have an extraordinarily busy day today so this post will have to stand in for real content.

    But here! Here’s a picture of a puppy!!

    puppy!!

    Gasmask photo: Gasmask by Fenchurch!

    Puppy photo: Gus the Puppy by Dustin. Thanks for letting me use them!

  • rumble twit weep run

    twitterquake

    I have already shared my intense fear of earthquakes. Today’s shaker was business as usual for me — I went white, got in a doorway, then burst into tears. I happened to share the doorway with the Department Chair, who did a good job of speaking to me in a soothing tone (reserved for lunatics and crybabies), and keeping me from my usual impulse to take flight and run — where? Into the office of Quantum and Complex Dynamics? The mail room?

    The only thing different about this time was the one addition to the safety procedure: twit first, ask questions later.

  • ahoy, webmateys

    ALA survey

    If you are a web professional of some kind, do take a few minutes to complete the survey at A List Apart, a site for people who make sites — it’s one of the best resources I have at my lil fingertips:

    Calling all designers, developers, information architects, project managers, writers, editors, marketers, and everyone else who makes websites. It is time once again to pool our information so as to begin sketching a true picture of the way our profession is practiced worldwide. Take the survey.

  • quiltreport 3: science quilt

    I will be reporting weekly sporadically on a new quilt on which I am working. I am in the cutting stage, and hope I will follow this through to a completed project.

    March 18 — I made a Joann’s employee ever so happy tonight by coming in, 20 minutes before closing time, and pulling 17 bolts of fabric for her to cut. Hee. I went for the cheaper, non-Kona cotton (the Kona of the “wonderfully meaty hand”) at 2 bucks a yard. So I got out of there for under 30 dollars.

    I will say it now. I hate spending money at chain stores; there are two independently-owned fabric stores in Ventura to which I try to be true. But here I am, frequenting Joann’s. My excuse: I’m poor. I’m not a good quilter. But I will be sad if these independent stores close. And my quilts fall apart because of the subpar material I use.

    sciene quilt fab

    But anyway! I feel a little like I rushed through my fabric color selections; I fear there one of those neon-ish yellow-greens will stand out too much. Maybe it’s okay. We’ll see.

    The patient employee who cut my fabric saw my many charts and calculations and piles of bolts. At the checkout she said, after handing back my credit card, “you are brave, Miss Rebecca, real brave!”

    July – Why, hi! I seem to have taken several months off. In the interim, I reorganized my home — losing my stupid measurements in the process. See, that’s why organization is bad! And why paper and pen is bad!

    Finally, ready to begin again, I had to appeal to Astrophysicist Roger to recalculate the piece measurements, since I seriously could not do that again without having a stroke. It took Roger 5 minutes and one Excel spreadsheet to provide me with calculations that were even better than before! I think he used physics, that’s why they were so good.

    science=progress

    Last weekend Violet the Great White came over for a crafternoon. She’s starting her very first quilt, and I’ve been helping her in the process, as well as supplying cutting boards and cocktails. This time, I hunkered down and got to cutting my own pieces using my shiny new physics-created calculations.

    science=progress

    Holy crap it took forever. As usual with quilts, shit takes so much longer than you think. I probably could have done a little more stacking and whacking, but the fabric, many colors in quarter-yard increments, were so haphazardly cut at Joann’s I had very little room for mistakes. As you can see, I marked each color with its corresponding letter in chalk. My chart goes to “Q” — that’s 17 colors, oy!

    Next part is a fun part — the piecing and sewing of the quilt top. Hopefully I’ll get on this sooner than later, as I’ve got to be done with this to make way for another project that has an October deadline. More soon! I hope!

    Go to Quiltreport 4: Science Quilt

    Related hamlinks:

  • cheers n jeers

    happy sad!

    Cheers: The smell of this pork roast that is cooking in my (own special) oven right this diddly-doodly second. You will be mine, soon, my darling, my herb-encrusted darling.

    Jeers: The guilty ache in my stomach after tossing out a plant that was still alive but not looking so hot. Into the empty container went a younger, prettier, more acceptable-looking plant and I just feel like an asshole.

    Cheers: I shall do a metaphoric contort and pat myself on the back for the impressive amount of work I have done in the last few months getting my home reorganized. I often can only see the work that has yet to be done, but right this second: hooray for the hambox!

    Jeers: Trident Gum, with your attractive packaging and delicious “Original” flavor, and your attractive package’s idiotic inability to stay shut and your gum, dumping and unwrapping in my purse and your coating of everything in my purse with a sticky, sickly fragrant noisome-ness. And to me, not remembering that the same damn thing happened last fall.

    Cheers: To all my friends doing such great, brave, creative, strong, dazzling things. This means you. There’s a reason I let you into my clubhouse.

    Jeers: To DVRs that work (suddenly opening your world to the magic that is live-record), then breaking just as suddenly. To customer service, who keep you on the phone for an “estimated hold-time of 2 minutes” that stretches into 35 — then, at 5pm on the spot, hanging up on you after curtly announcing they’re closed.

    Cheers: To the little girl-dog named Rocko who still bears the physical scars of her puppyhood abuse but is the nicest pooch in the world and keeps the sweet elderly lady who adopted her young and happy and running RUNNING on long, bouncy walks.

    Jeers: To the broken water main, which made me experience coffee made with flat seltzer (bad) and a whore’s bath with Perrier (decadent AND bad)

    Cheers: To life, to life, l’chaim!

    Closed, happy, sad, happy, sad, happy, sad by samgrover. Thanks for letting me use it!

  • ur-scene!

    What the bear ate/did not eat

    Molly and I went camping in Sequoia National Park this past weekend. It was a great trip in a spectacular place; I’ve already waxed poetic about the park after I went with Danny P last year. You can also see the flickr set from this latest trip here, full of pretty pictures! Here, I’ll relate a short and true anecdote from last Friday evening. Keep in mind: we are two urban gals, especially me — I sometimes can’t tell sheep and goats apart.

    In preparation for bedtime, Molly and Becky open the bear box (a metal latching cabinet to keep anything of edible or olfactory interest away from bears) and take out their toiletry kits.

    Molly: There’s a bear. There’s a bear.
    Becky: Ooooh-kay. Where?
    Molly: Right behind you. We need to go this way.

    Leaving the box open, they walk carefully to the other side of Becky’s car. Becky sees a small, fast, black streak going towards the open bear box. She is put in mind of a shark.

    Molly: Maybe it’s a dog. Do you think it’s a dog?
    Becky: Get in the car. Get. In. The. Car.

    They get in the car. They watch as the bear briefly rifles through the box, then disappears.

    Molly and Becky: Fuuuuuuuuck.

    Pulses racing, they high-five, knowing that, if they made it through the weekend, they’ve got a good story.

  • the thrill of the game

    magic robot board games!

    In March of 2001, I accompanied my good friend Danny P to Europe. He was touring some of his movies on a whirlwind blitz of Germany, Holland, and Belgium. His rock star wife Alison was too large with child to travel with him (she produced the ever-wonderful Henry later in the summer), so I got to go. As we were doing the indie mad dash, there was very little free time, but on St. Patrick’s Day, we found ourselves with some time to kill in Brussels, Belgium.

    I’ll have to ask Danny how we came upon it, but we had the great good fortune to experience the open air flea market on Rue Blaes.

    It was magical. Antique apothecary bottles, displays of French combs, colorful chamberpots, vintage encyclopedias.. when I saw the Dutch "Diabolo Robot" board game, I gasped. Incredibly, it was mine for about 5 bucks.

    After I made the purchase and started walking down another aisle, Danny grabbed my arm and muttered "you want another one? then walk away, fast!" He had spied another Dutch robot board game at a different stall. He shooed me away, wisely knowing that the seller would probably up his price if he perceived me to be the collector of Dutch robot board games (which I had, at that very moment, become.) Danny scored "Robot Geeft Het Juiste Antwoord" for me for another five bucks.

    The boxes are at left and upper right in the picture. The picture at lower right shows the content of one of the games — a playing area with questions in the one circle, answers in the second. One positions the robot on the mirror and it points to the right answer!

    It was a great trip and a lucky time and the very best flea score ever.

    Postscript: This happened at the start of our trip. Not only did I buy the two games, but I also scored a bulky vintage Italian ceramic piece, with lid. With the extra weighty baggage, running for trains became less a joyous "Hard Day’s Night" jog and more of something that I will be expected to do in hell when I get there.