Almostgotit.com

This is the pitiful, drugged-out creature parked in a chair next to my computer today.  Jerry had surgery on his paw this morning, and doesn’t want to eat, or drink, or move.  Just gives a pitiful little whine every now and then.

It’s just a wee bit hard to concentrate on my work.

Do you want a drink? A popsicle?  Should I turn up the heat?  Can I get you something to read?  I keep asking him, as I plump up his pillows.  I have several bottles of pills for him, too, which he can’t have until he eats something.

Are you ready to eat yet?  A sausage sandwich, maybe?  Would you like one of the cats?

Pitiful.

I have a deadline in two days, too.  So what do I do… take him to childcare?  Hire a sitter? 

Maybe I should just tell him to snap out of it.  Hey! Come on, Buddy!  You think your life is tough?!?  It was just a glorified HANGnail, for goodness sake.  Get over yourself already!  Hey!  Up and at ‘em!!

Aww, shucks…

Sorry, too enthralled feeding the fire, eating leftovers, and fiddling with Facebook to do any actual blogging. 

The only problem with vacations is that you have to come back from them.  Behind-er than ever.

Feeling so very, very whiny, besides.

I hate it when seasons end, even if another one is starting.  (Plus also, so totally not fair that only a 12 year old can be 5′6″ and a size 2 at the same time)

Though our little part of Knoxville is not without its seasonal charms.  What the heck are boiled peanuts (or fried pork rinds, or moon pies, or okra generally) you might ask?  Take my advice: Remain In Ignorance on These Things, Grasshopper.

I’ve had a very small week.

I’ve accomplished very small things, and for the most part stayed in a very small space to accomplish them — it’s been too cold to venture very far beyond the fireplace (I’ve not yet plugged in the space heater in my office).

Last weekend, I met people who ran prestigious small colleges and national museums, won Nobel Prizes, and discovered Hepatitis B viruses.

In their spare time, probably.

Meanwhile, I managed to replace the bathroom light bulb yesterday – yeah, me!

I was determined to get some work done yesterday, and set my list on the dining room table with happy face stickers *and* a clock next to it so I could keep track of the time and not waste it like I do so many days. I had guessed how much time each ask would take, and left lots of extra time at the end, too.

Plus also, did I mention I had Happy Face Stickers?

Things didn’t go exactly as I planned, however.

I couldn’t work in a cold house, and couldn’t just “get more firewood” either, because the wheelbarrow had to be emptied of other stuff first, plus there was a giant dead branch in the side yard which had to be dragged to the curb before I could get the wheelbarrow through anyway.

Plus also the dog wanted to play.

But I got the wood rack filled eventually, and kept the fire going all day too, which made the cat happy (see if you can find him in the Kitty Sauna).

I was supposed to finish some website stuff, but had forgotten to find some of the art I needed.  Then my email with art attached failed to “send,” so I had to start over. Plus also the warm- cozy- living- room- computer was dead, so I had to use the freezing- cold- office- computer instead, which meant I kept sneaking back to the living room to get warmed up again.

Then I messed up my daughter’s plans. I took a shower but forgot both my makeup and the stuff for my hair that keeps me from looking like a dandelion, even though I had to give a neighborhood presentation later that evening.

I didn’t even get to the laundry.

I was supposed to update the neighborhood’s database, too, using a spreadsheet one of the reps had LABORIOUSLY updated, BY HAND, and couldn’t find the damn thing. 

Anywhere. 

Naturally, there are no other copies either.

So I had to practically clean the whole house instead, looking for it.

This morning I am starting over again. I also decided to reward my yesterday-self a lot of posthumous Happy Face Stickers, for all the things I didn’t plan yesterday but got done anyway.

I still don’t have any idea where that spreadsheet is, but I do now have a clean(ish) house! 

Yeah me, again! 

I’m beginning to guess that this is probably about as good as it gets.

An advertisement for a bank specializing in wealth management and private banking, appearing in last Sunday’s New York Times (11/16/08)

“First Republic maintains our relationship over the phone and over the Internet — it’s a beautiful thing.”

LEE BRATHWAITE, TELECOM EXECUTIVE
LAURA BRATHWAITE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, WIFE AND MOTHER

Successful, working couple, and hey –they’re even black. 

Thank you, I get it: First Republic Bank is More PC-Than-Thou.

But am I the only one who notices something missing here?

Many years ago, we took our four-year-old son on a hiking trip, where he discovered how much fun a person can have for several days with nothing but a mountain to play with. When my husband told our little boy about his OWN childhood hikes, our son — who was wielding a particular beauty at the time — asked Did you have any good STICKS, Dad?

Three big cheers for The Stick, which has just been inducted into the Toy Hall of Fame!

Next year, I hope they’ll induct The Cardboard Box, too.

I got a message on my voicemail last night. Turns out my folks are reading my blog ..

Hi Mom, Hi Dad.

Why didn’t we tell you? Because all of this job stuff is a little like making babies… how soon do you have to tell everyone about a baby? When you’re safely past the first trimester? Immediately after seeing the little pink thingie on the stick?

Blow by blow while you’re still TRYING?

Besides, we weren’t really “trying,” it just sort of happened during a rash moment last spring. Margaritas may or may not have been involved. And now we’re smack in the middle of what is turning out to be a very difficult decision, and we have to make it without being too distracted by the folks (as loving and supportive as they are) sitting in the bleachers.

Don’t worry, I feel for you.  I’ve got the same nosy parental deal, going the other way, with my son’s Facebook page.  Some people think it’s icky that I even have access to my son’s Facebook page.  Other people think I should not only read his page but report all his Facebooking friends to their parents. 

I’m just saying!

Here’s a valuable story, brought to you in today’s CNN:

A  photo of a breast-feeding Angelina Jolie will be featured on the November cover of W Magazine.  In the picture, an actual, partial view of her actual breast shows, along with a tiny baby’s hand, so you will even be able to tell what she’s doing (eww, eww, EWWW!) with that breast.

I didn’t even know Angelina Jolie had breasts! 

She’s certainly never shown them in public before.  I’m also shocked that any modern-day publisher would ever be so crass as to feature Angelina Jolie’s partially-exposed breasts in a magazine, much less on the magazine’s cover!

Nursing mothers and their appallingly inappropriate (not to mention just plain icky) breasts.  What are we going to do about them, America?  Will we allow this outrage to stand?   

If we can’t support them, we need to get rid of them.

Top Tennessee economist Bill Fox, among many others, has already given us the hard numbers: sales tax collections do not ever keep up with economic growth, and thus are a terrible way to provide ongoing funding for anything, including public education. This is true even when the economy is in good shape: when it isn’t, consumer spending slows and tax collections plummet.

Dramatically.

Moreoever, the University of Tennessee, like many state universities, already receives less than 20% of its total funding from the state, even as it remains fully accountable to Nashville for every dollar it spends… including the millions that Nashville does not even provide.

Nor has UT ever done a very good job of presenting the seriousness of current and past funding cuts to the tax-paying public. A major barrier to reforming UT’s regressive funding structure is the persistant public perception that universities are rife with excess spending (or) that the whole point of a state university is to field a football team.

UT’s Development, Alumni and Communications offices are good at wearing orange but have always been too tentative about promoting UT academics, nor have they yet aimed high enough with their private fundraising goals.

So how about this: move the football team to Nashville and privatize the rest of UT — under a new name, of course. Let’s stop pretending that we can support, or that we even want, publically funded higher education.

Only a fraction of Tennessee’s taxpayers takes advantage of higher education in any case, so why should taxpayers pay for it, either? Why not reserve our tax money for other government projects (K-12 education? Public transporation?) — or even give it back to the people who earned it?

U.S. universities are still the best in the world, and one reason they are is that they are very good at raising their own money. Universities are also better than legislators at managing their own budgets and setting their own curricula, without state interference.

Why not let them?

It was a good weekend chez Almostgotit.

The neighbors have all received my newsletter, and there have been no death threats. A few probably have concluded I’m dangerous and should be left alone (hurray) while a few others have called me on the phone to say “bravo.”

One even brought me some flowers.

Almostgotit made great strides in sorting out some things in the attic, getting rid of several piles, and finally opening the stupid box for her stupid new computer and even putting the stupid thing all together (NB friend Betsy!!)

The rest of the family, feeling a little less ambitious, nonetheless also seemed to have a pleasantly relaxing couple of days.

The New College Student, too busy lately even to trim his own toenails apparently,  came home and spent virtually all of his time like this. 

The 12-yr-old  , whose official weekend chore is to clean the bathroom, found interesting things to do with the bathroom mirror instead .

Cat #1 helped make the beds in her own way.

The dog (a purebred Rhodesian FridgeSnack, FYI) carried his blanket around all weekend, finding many comfortable places to sleep as well.

And I did tell all y’all, did I not, that the adults have a lovely new mattress for weekend sleeping, as well? 

Life, in other words, is pretty good. 

photo: Terry Shaw, special to Knoxville News Sentinel

What a coincidence. The Knoxville News-Sentinel printed an article today about Knoxville’s Career Closet , thus doing almost all of my planned blogging work for me.

A couple of weeks ago, I helped my friend and colleague Andy take his deceased wife’s hundreds of beautiful and contemporary career clothes to the Career Closet so that they could be used by unemployed women who are interviewing for jobs.

In fact, that’s Joy’s red blazer hanging on the rack to the right.

To be eligible for an outfit or two from the Career Closet, women must first complete a basic job training course through an organization such as the Tennessee Career Center.

Donating to the Career Closet was a win-win-win. Andy and his son now know that Joy’s clothes will be deeply appreciated and used. A couple dozen women (at least) will have gorgeous new business outfits to wear to their interviews. A number of retired folks who work at the Career Closet will see their own efforts benefitting more people. Andy will have a large tax deduction this year which will help off-set the sudden loss of his wife’s income stream. And I was able to do one small but useful thing to help this family that I love.

A quick Google search shows that Knoxville is not the only city with a “Career Closet” program that provides women with business attire and other assistance in landing a much-needed job.

How about cleaning your own closet this weekend, and giving another woman a career hands-up when you do?