becky haycox

Month: August 2008

  • car commute, rip

    Important message emailed to Alison from my phone:

    For one year, I commuted daily — 43 miles each way, and often through stop-and-go (and sometimes just stop) traffic. Some images and impressions of the commute I no longer commute.

    December 21: Inedible
    Tanker truck with “Inedible” on back

    10/1/08: If I hear one more person say “at least it’s a pretty drive!” I am going to jam my Frequent Filler gas card into their eye. But I’m not really that violent. And I made up the Frequent Filler gas card.

    4-Way Meat Markets
    4-Way Meat Markets. This photo was commented upon by my friend Ted: “I don’t know what all the fuss is over this place, I left alone!”

    6/20/08: In the morning, I witnessed a sedan that was driiiiiifting to the back and to the forth. I assumed it was an elderly type or a cell phone type, but as I passed this guy, holding my breath, I took a quick look at the driver. Youngish. Something about the set of his shoulders, his hunched gripping of the wheel, said “fucked up and hanging onto control by a thread.” I kept an eye on him in my rear-view mirror as he floated into the bicycle lane for several minutes, before swerving two lanes into the fast lane, nearing creaming a motorcyclist, who was quick-thinking enough to swerve, himself.

    Leo's Sewer & Drain
    Best logo award goes to Leo’s Sewer & Drain

    5/2/08: I may have been speeding, but the guy behind me was really speeding, roaring up to my bumper and staying there. He was a big man on a big chopper and, before I could move to let him by, he passed me in a flash. Once he was in front of me I got a good look at him. He was so exaggerated, so Kustom Kulture-y, that I ceased, immediately, to be intimidated:

    not so scary after all

    Postscript: No scolding, please, about the dangers of photographing while driving. I’ll listen to you only when you’ve driven 20,750 miles in my shoes car.

    Related hamblinks:

  • last night’s monologue, post-improv show, by a six-year-old boy

    Hi! Hi! Hi! {shakes hands vigorously} Um, um um! {mom quietly coaches] Oh yeah, my favorite was the haunted house! {referring an improv scene, set in a closed department store, in which mannequins come to life} It was scary! Next time, I’m going to up there and give karate to the ghosts! Hi-yah! {flurry of air-kicks and punches} You know what guess what you know what? My birthday is on December 7th and I’m going to stand on the stage! Hi-yah! Me and Spiderman will kill the ghosts! Hey! Um! Hey! Watch me twirl in a circle! Okay! Bye!

  • fair enough

    Just testing the new flickr slide embed function. If you don’t see it, email me. Otherwise, enjoy 6+ years of fair-y goodness.

    And here’s the direct link.

  • two excerpts from posts pertaining to the Kool-Aid man that made me laugh out loud

    koolaid

    From Pamie’s archive, 2005:

    PAM
    Do you think the Kool-Aid people were pissed off about Jonestown?

    DAN
    How do you spin that one?

    PAM
    That’s what I’m saying.

    STEE
    The Kool-Aid man came bursting through the wall at Jonestown and was like, “OH…NO!”

    DAN
    “OH….SHIT!”

    PAM
    Backing up, picking up pieces of brick and wall.

    SARA
    Fixing the drywall with his bare hands.

    DAN
    Painting frantically.

    PAM
    Holding a fan to it so it dries faster.

    STEE
    “OH… NO!”

    SARA
    Calling up Mrs. Kool-Aid, making sure he’s got an alibi.

    PAM
    “I was with you, baby, the whole time.”

    DAN
    And she’s all, “Don’t make me have to marry someone else and take yet another hyphenate.”

    SARA
    She’d wipe that condensation smile off of his face. Fill him up with ice so she can draw a sad face on him, because it would look weird for him to be so happy about all those people dying.

    From Mimi Smartypant’s archive, 2002:

    feedmewithyrkids: Evil things cannot calmly enter rooms. They have to crash into them, like the Kool-Aid guy. Or like Aerosmith crashing into a Run DMC video.

    feedmewithyrkids: Or was that the other way around?

    Mimi Smartypants: The Kool-Aid guy destroys your house in the name of refreshment. (And I think Run DMC smashed into Aerosmith.)

    Mimi Smartypants: They should have just gone next door and knocked politely.

    feedmewithyrkids: But they’re rappers. They knock down the walls, old skool.

    Mimi Smartypants: Technically the heart of the song is Aerosmith’s riff. Run DMC were the guests. Which means they shouldn’t be knocking down walls but asking “Hi Aerosmith, can we rap over your guitar thing?”

    feedmewithyrkids: It’s an allegory about intellectual property rights.

    Notes: Normally I would not excerpt so much without just linking to the original posts, but both posts are unusually long and the Kool-Aid sections are hard to find. Please go and visit the blogs of these talented ladies and read more of their stuff! Thanks for letting me reprint! Hi!

    Also, Jonestown experts may note that the flavored drink in which the cult-killing poison was mixed was actually Flavor Aid, not Kool-Aid. Wow, suddenly that’s not so funny anymore, when you think about it too much.

    And thanks to boptart for the photo!

  • can’t trust that day

    The 5am alarm time is particularly galling this Monday morning, as this past weekend in the Bay Area was overpacked with work and socializing and driving. Indeed, I went straight from car to bed last night and I am mourning the down-time that was not built into the weekend framework. And why are the days getting shorter again? There is a big difference between getting up whilst the sun is casting a pink glow upon the singing birdies — and getting up in the pitch black dampy fogness that whispers Dickensonian work conditions…

    I stumble into the car and drive downtown, park and wait for the bus. I can’t even work up enthusiasm for Cute Bicycle Guy as he passes me in the line. The bus arrives (on time at 6:20! Six! Twenty! AM!) and it’s a new one — still the cushy charter-type bus, but different to the usual. We tentatively board, feeling the oddness of the extra-tall first step, the narrower aisle. Yes, friend, that is my shoulder.

    The biggest difference of this new bus: DVD screens suspended above our heads, all playing the same movie. And that movie is the Nicholas Cage vehicle, World Trade Center. Interesting choice for a 6:30am commute bus. Sirens, devastation, death, national nightmare, check check check check. The audio is kindly piped in over a general sound system, so we all get to hear the movie whether we want to or not. Oh, Nic. What is up with your quirky acting style.

    I scramble for my earphones and listen to the current podcast of This American Life, and it’s a repeat — one about the pain of breakups. Awesome. As the collapse of the WTC flickers for the kasquillionith time across  TV screens (but this time for entertainment purposes!), I get to think about heartbreak. Just as I’m starting to conjure tears, reliving all the injustice everywhere in the universe, we make our first stop.

    The driver (new and fairly untrained — the overtaxed bus system is frantically trying to meet the needs of these Southern Californians, who, for the first time ever, are getting and staying out of their cars) flips on the harsh fluorescent lights (not needed) and announces the stop through the squealing loudspeaker (not needed!! We all take this same bus every day, jackass!)

    As we move again, bracing ourselves for the next stop, the man next to me starts snoring the extra-zesty snore of a Monday morning.

    Right then, an amazing tour-de-force takes place on the video screens — an actor, playing someone trapped in the 9/11 rubble, screams and screams and screams — balls-out, scenery-chewing wailing that goes on. And on. His frenzied, melodramatic shrieking tunes in some internal frequency of mine. Fortunately, instead of screaming along (which, let’s face it, would be a much more interesting end to this rant), I smile — and finally, finally find the funny in all this.

  • live blogging from the geek conference at which i am trapped

    Unable to take another session in a long day of sessions discussing blogging software, I am sitting on a couch in an unnecessarily air-conditioned lounge area, watching a toddler run amok and trying not to worry a industrial-soap-activated rash that has appeared on my left forearm.

    A couple minutes ago, I noticed a good-looking gent (of the silver-fox variety), several yards away, giving me the eye. Sometimes looking away, sometimes gazing intently, often smiling.

    Hello, you, I think. And: Heh, I still got it.

    Then, of course, I notice the flat-screen TV behind my head, silently broadcasting the Olympics.

  • make make make

    jam jars

    Some good arty crafty stuff going on these days, making the Happy Center of my brain get a refreshing makeover — new coat of paint, curtains, and maybe a chocolate fountain?

    • Ventura County Fair, as usual, delivered mightily in every way. The horticulture, food, art, craft, and domestic art exhibits were fantastic. I highly recommend going to the fair a minimum of two times so that you can see and appreciate every jar of preserved chicken; every crocheted potholder made by a Super Senior; every clogging solo (one was soundtracked by Bust a Move, that’s right); every hypnotized teenager; every quilt, cross-stich, and every disturbing conceptual installation.
      I want to own this       cute animal quilt -- felted wool Lisa and Becky Carolyn only got second in canned poultry
      You can see more pictures here. My crazy crafty Ventura brethren!
    • And me? Still plugging away on that darn Science Quilt (I promise: no more posts about it till it’s done), and I finished a project as a present for a friend. Can’t reveal more till I give it to the recipient, but: yay to salvaging former craft-disasters!
    • Thoma Doyle’s work is crafty, a little creepy, and tiny — just the way I like it!

    I’m off to San Francisco for the WordCamp. I seem to have gotten involved in some weird WordPress game thing while up there, the next post might be puzzling. In a good way or in a bad way, I have no idea.

  • quiltreport 4: science quilt

    science quilt - in the RG section of RGBIV

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

    If you haven’t already, check out the previous posts:

    July 27 — I have finished laying out the quilt top — just setting the cut pieces where they should go. I didn’t have enough material for a couple of the colors (as I am a math whiz), so off to Joanne’s Fabrics I must go, which I found out is just “Jo-Ann”, spelt like that, with no possessive. It’s a hybrid of the company’s co-owners’ daughters names. The original owners were refugees from Nazi Germany. Now I’m starting to feel a little bad about bashing the store in the previous quiltreport. Anyway, off to Jo-Ann I go. And I’m wondering how much like the chart it’s gonna look. Ugh.

    science quilt - i'm in pieces, bits and pieces

    Warning: Oh! And! I use a rotary cutter to cut my pieces — a pizza-cutter looking thing that many crafters use to precision-cut fabric. Earlier, I was using a thin metal ruler as a cutting guide (as it’s longer than my thicker, safer lucite ruler). The blade jumped the ruler and nicked my finger. A super close call, as the rotary blade is basically a round razor, and one must bear down pretty firmly when cutting. I only zapped the skin, no blood but I remember thinking “oh shit, where’s an emergency room around here?” Notes to self: the rotary cutter is my master; and find out where my damn emergency room is. And make sure I never have to go.

    Update: I worked all day. It’s hard to stop, once in the zone. All rows are sewn except for the two that need extra material (I didn’t make it to Jo-Ann — my sister called and I had to talk her through her trauma of running over a bird today). I started sewing the black sashing on the completed rows and holy mama, it’s starting to look just like the chart. It looks really, really good. I grinned and grinned, seeing this meshuga idea come to life.

    Fun fact: I quilted all day in nothing but my underwears!!

    science quilt top - almost done

    July 29 — Quilt top, complete! Oh, quilt top, you’re so fine. I’m trying not to dwell on the less-than-precise alignment and dumb little mistakes. The chalk was surprisingly hard to get off — I dabbed and dabbed with a wet cloth and now must re-iron the whole thing. But it really looks like the chart! Hey!

    I’m really glad I used the chalk to mark each piece, though. It helped me to keep everything in order. Each piece was marked with the letter I assigned to each color, and with the row number. I still managed to screw up and employ my seam ripper a couple times. You can see the chalky goodness here:

    science quilt - chalk

    I have to psych myself up for the next phase – the pinning. One must have to make a precise “sandwich” of quilt top + batting + quilt back. Smooth, pin, align, pin, undo, pin. Pin, pin, pin. I may use a brand new tool in my arsenal. We’ll see if it helps. I also am searching for someone with an open floor plan and some hard-surface floors, upon which I can built the sandwich. Easily, this is my least favorite stage. Wish me luck!

    Go to Quiltreport 4.B: random craft cruft

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  • Spelling Bee, Part Two

    two awards

    Excerpts from my 8th grade diaries. I had moved to a tough city school from a cushy life in Phoenix. I was extremely unpopular — alternately taunted, bullied, and completely ignored.

    Please read Part One first

    April 5, 1978
    Day rating: Square-minu minus minus (square = worst day)

    I lost the spelling bee. No, no, I’m not going to carry on. I didn’t cry or anything. Of course I’m disappointed, but not as much as I expected. I came in 7th out of 28. Not TOO bad. 28th, really, out of 39,000. I am No. 7 out of 39,021 people. When you think of it in those terms, it’s damn good.

    I want to die. Who am I kidding? I’m not in the absolute PITS, but I’m very depressed. It was terrifying. We had to walk up to a microphone to spell our words on a stage. I’m really rather not talk about it — because it’s forever embedded permanently in my memories.

    Of course everyone treated me like a champ at home. Anne [family friend] bought me some really nice things. A single rose, some little things like glow-in-the-dark Silly Putty, the normal vending machine junk, and a very nice stick pin that has the comedy and tradgedy masks on it. As you can tell, I took the day off from school. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to live at this moment.

    April 6, 1978
    Day rating: Square

    I am very depressed, but it will blow over. I think I will not mention the Bee again in this journal until it has blown over and has been settled for a long, long time — perhaps never.

    Gilbert Cooper doesn’t know me and doesn’t like me. It’s amazing how everyone turns you off and forgets you as soon as you’re out of the spotlight.

    Postscript, August 8, 2008

    I was doing amazingly well at the final Bee — I was older than most of the kids, and lucked out on getting super easy words — blazon, paprika, inaugurate. My father, stepmom, and brothers were in the audience, and I could see their grins: she’s got it.

    Then, I got the word corrugate. Which I knew. But I carelessly omitted the G. Corruate. The bell rang. I lost.

    I stumbled through the rest of my school year before starting 9th grade in a new town. The new school was torture, but it was different, and not quite as horrifying as that special, special year at Highlands Junior High, White Plains, New York.

    The photo above is of the plaque I received (sitting next to it, apropos of nothing, is one of my mom’s many tennis awards.) The plaque lived in my important-document lockbox all these years, and I did not take it out until a few months ago. Now it lives on a shelf in my living room. You’re welcome to come over and have a gawk.

  • Spelling Bee, Part One

    Class 7-5B

    Excerpts from my 8th grade diaries. I had moved to a tough city school from a cushy life in Phoenix. I was extremely unpopular — alternately taunted, bullied, and completely ignored.

    February 28, 1978
    Day rating: Star-plus (star = excellent day)

    I won the spelling bee. Yes, friends, I won. I won. I now represent the entire city of White Plains for the Westchester championship. If I win that, I go to Washington DC to the Nationals. I still can’t believe it. Actually, I was higher than a kite before. But now I’ve really sorta gotten it into my system. So, the next one is April 5th at Pace University at 10am. Ooh, what if I win??? Well, I’ll think about that later on. I’ve got a lot of time.

    I’m supposed to get a plaque! The first REAL award I’ve ever gotten! (Excluding certificates and fruit rolls.) I’m very, very, very happy. Well, I don’t wanna dwell on it, in fear of a bloated ego. But one more “yahoo.” YAAAAAAHOOOOOO!!!!!!!

    March 1, 1978
    Day rating: Circle-minus (circle = average day)

    My name was announced on the loudspeaker at school today, “best wishes and congratulations.” They played it up a lot, though, and a lot of people misunderstood, thinking that I was already qualified for the Nationals and that I was going to Washington DC. In Math, Mr. Hall wrote a word on the blackboard, and then turned around and asked “Did I spell that right, Becky?” I’m modest, and I wish he didn’t do that, because everyone was firing questions, and making me blush. But the highlight of that moment was that Gilbert Cooper [drawn hearts here] looked at me with kindness and (what I guess was, in respect to the moment) interest (about the spelling bee, not me, of course.) I don’t know why I like him, though; he’s been nasty to me at other times, but he’s funny. The way he writes commercial jingles on the blackboard … I like him, I guess.

    April 3, 1978
    Day rating: Circle-minus minus minus minus

    My dad and stepmom were going to see “The Goodbye Girl” but they came back early because they had a fight. I hate it. It’s only 8:30pm, but I am writing early because my spelling bee is DAY AFTER TOMORROW! I’m so nervous! The suspense is killing me. Oh well, I’ll see how I do when I see how I do.

    The Academy Awards are on. John Travolta [drawn hearts here] was nominated for “Saturday Night Fever.” I hope he wins, the dear.

    April 4, 1978
    Day rating: Circle

    I must get a good night’s sleep because of my SPELLING BEE TOMORROW!!! I was horribly nervous before but now I am totally pacific and a bit depressed. I think I tried a little too hard to not get my hopes up. I am trying so hard to be happy with the cliche “It doesn’t matter whether you win or lose, etc.” but I really want to win, but that is the dream of every other finalist. Shit. I was so confident before that I’d whip ’em, but well, forget about the buts. I won’t talk about it any more. End of bee conversation.

    Gilbert came up to me in Science and poked his pen in the foil surrounding my bunsen burner.

    Good night! Hope the Bee goes well! Stay tuned!

    Part Two is here.

    The photo above (click on it for larger view) is from my yearbook from 7th grade, when I was slightly more popular. I am in the top row, third from right. I did not appear in the 8th grade yearbook.