Coming up: Tic Tac Tech, the Expo arrives with merriment and asparagus abounding! Will Mr. (W)right find concinnity with fellow local nerds? Will the couple be cast upon a roiling sea of networkers and programmers, adrift from all reason, with only the asparagus to fight the Comcast demons off?? Our hero faces The TIGER, a journey he must make alone. Will the scars he garners ever heal? What roars shall quake the hearts of man atop that leery peak? Our not-so-little lady heads down separate shifting paths in search of the almighty errand. Can she avoid the new Canadian surge or will she be swept up in a sea of maple and Tim Horton's? Plastic snaps, and coffee spews to welcome in the week of May. What anomie shall be unleashed in the seismic shift of seasons??
Locate your business cards, grab your novelty stress ball, and dare delve where the faint of heart fear most. Beyond these terrors lie the edenic fields of answers to those pressing queries...
Great Tech-spectations - The Convention Room of Doom and Teriyaki By the Lake
There either is or is not, that’s the way things are. The color of the graying balding ballroom carpet. The way it felt to be an introvert cast into a swarm of synergizing bodies in an acoustical chamber. The celery on your laden plate. Sometimes the table is yellow, sometimes it’s red. But what color it may be in memory, depends on the day. I’m not going to tell you the story the way it happened. I’m going to tell it the way I remember it or maybe I'll just start with what I "remember", add a few fairies, and let my fingers roll with the momentum to lord knows where.
As Andrew is slogging through Screwpocalyptigate 2014, his enthusiasm for the other peccadilloes of his cowboy company is moderate muted of late. Not that he'd abstain from bellowing off-key encomiums to the place "made for the kind of people who get tired of sitting around waiting for other people to do things when they could just do them themselves"
He still loves Eieieioooo. There are times when the complete lack of structure is delightfully entertaining. A few erumpent exemplie gratia: gossipy whispers about the cabbalistic raise-evaluation rituals that happen via a slew of farraginous ukases at random intervals; or boys with toys getting to do things like ram an empty warehouse with a forklift and other devices.
There are naturally times when it's less nifty. For instance - say you're an engineer there - when the team you're on designs the project that comprises the entire body of your work at a company, and that project breaks two exorbitantly expensive components on a (several months' late) first run, and then suddenly the higher-ups in your company, the project manager, and the client, all of whom have been flippantly trusting to an aggravatingly unhelpful degree in the past, get "involved." And maybe it becomes such a mire of muckety mucks taking various stands against various complementary muckety mucks in competing factions, that the deal may be off if somebody can't carry out one of the many impossible and paradoxical instructions hurled at "the team" (namely you) to be executed. Maybe this offness potentially casts your first year of work into the recycling bin of positive reframing as a very pricey and aggravating training exercise. Of course, I'm sure it will all work out (these eruptions seem par for the course in this business), but I can see that maybe that's a little frustrating on a Friday afternoon.
Also, love his job or not, Andrew would also love to someday be able to "bike to work" in a way that doesn't involve cycling a Century and change every day. He does centuries from time to time (100 mile bike ride, not any Whovian time-lording-it-up), but doing one every day might impose some additional commuting costs to his body and bikes, in addition to his schedule.
Andrew was going to just casually glance around at local engineering firms after working for a year to see how competitive he was now that he had some experience under his belt (and a lightening bolt on his belt, of course). If for no other reason than to feel proud about his increasing value as a person. So when got a notification from a Tech group in town about the Tech Expo he figured he'd drop in and nerd it up a bit with fellow mechies.
Feeling foolhardy, I thought I'd bring a separate car, look at all the various exhibits, and then leave him to whatever "networking" he might do (shudder). I suggested that we meet at Lakeway Teriyaki, nested in the Freddy's compound and thus about five minutes away from the Lakeway Inn.
My mom and her boytoy - feeling the overwhelming need to supplement our lush lifestyles with acts of generosity that would be embarrassing if I weren't already too grateful and too certain that this deranged generosity is a pleasure in itself for them, and that refusing it or making a fuss would be rude and anhedonic for all involved - treated us to dinner. When Andrew was about twenty minutes out, we ordered. Andrew's food arrived almost exactly when he did. He griped about the latest disasters at work, shoveled his combo with gusto into his gut, and changed in the bathroom.
We all four ended up braving the Expo. The good news: veggies abounded in a little mountain by the wall. I may have eventually given up all hope of doing anything but piling my plate full of celery and summer squash, and wishing I hadn't bothered with that dinner nonsense before coming. The bad news: people! There were people everywhere! Like a disease. And that half-ballroom is a nightmare for navigation. It is an echo chamber, and generally gets so packed that there are no determinable ingresses or egresses. It was almost impossible to wade through and no doubt many a soul was lost to techie trampling.
Oh, and the exhibits weren't really relevant to engineering, being an olio of IT companies, schools, and "vaguely framed companies that may or may not do something involving technology but which are so buried in logos and buzzwords that their actual product is anyone's guess". I did get to see some neat Lego robotics, and three active 3-D printers. I also stole some pens.
I had considered getting my "free head shot" but was enough of a harried introvert by the time I saw the station that I instead shoved myself full of more celery, resisted the urge to grab more novelty stress squeezes (a very popular item at conventions and expos), and fled the premises.
So, no particular insight into the engineering scene north of King County. We're back to my initial desire that Andrew just design a teleporter, which would at least clear up his persistent "I wish I could bike to work" cavil. And, I'm enduringly proud of myself for resisting the novelty stress squeezy things. I think a stress squeeze lobster is enough. I don't need a fake cloud also.
Today Andrew celebrates his wish that he worked closer to home so he can "bike to work" by driving an hour and a half (longer than the commute to work) to go biking! But it's a special pilgrimage to Tiger Mountain, one of his favorite haunts. The trip was originally scheduled to be Sunday, but we're flexible depending on the weather. I'm likely to celebrate my single ladyhood by the salacious slicing of vegetables, making of of chia jam, and possibly mindless maundering of grocery store sampling. I think Sunday is the best day for grocery store samples, but one never can be certain. Different stores have different schedules... whatever it may be, it shall be an adventure!
Maundering Errand Day Socks were worn during the taking of these pictures, but they were shy today
Yesterday, Andrew was off to Tiger Mountain and I had the day for my devious world-dominating grocery and chore day. I started off with a drive to Winco. Winco is on the other side of town. It opened at the turn of the year and has already - judging by the profusion of license plates in the parking lot - been discovered the the Canadians. The hearts of every Bellinghamster goes gelid in remembrance of our lost Trader Joe's and fallen Costco, which have been declared duchies of British Columbia or are at least occupied territory. Don't believe me? Try to go to Costco without your special i.d. pass papers. They'll catch you at the door and drag you to a back room. Costco is theirs now.
Dear British Columbian neighbors to the north: I jest. Really. You colonize my street on a regular basis to visit our pirate neighbors. You dominate our roads with your cheeky driving style. You overrun our malls with gaping bags begging to be fille.You fill our hotels with your shipping bags. I went to camp with your children and many the sprig of puppy love blossomed for your wee lads. We depend on you, your slight linguistical differentiation, and your funny looking monies.
We just... well, you have a slightly different set of manners than the hippy-dippy legacy children of "The Seattle Freeze." We're very passive and have wide berths of physical bubble for our comfort zones. We honor the zipper merge, and cry at the thought of being tailgated. Many of us voluntarily drive under the speed limit. We can be so passive-aggressively "civil" that you'd think we were British. Your contingent of bargain hunters doesn't embrace those particular values when on the mad shopping free-for-alls of legend and weekend. Resultingly there can be friction. Mostly, though, we just kind of avoid your hives of activity (then write irritable notes about it to local papers, or drop it copiously into conversation that we just love shopping at the Burlington Costco, or that we travel to Seattle for our Trader Joe's trips) because we are, after all, just a little bit passive aggressive.
My excuse? I'm an introvert. I don't care if you're Canadian, German, Antarctican, or Atlantean: I don't want too many of any of you in my store while I'm shopping.
But the remaining advantage of Winco over TJs and Costco is that it maintains 24 hour operation. The second advantage I daren't minimize in importance: they have self-checkout aisles and express lanes. These are huge, as the other drawback about Canadian shoppers versus regular local shoppers is that they are going to have several carts deep of merchandise for every transaction. Hell, they drove all the way down to Bellingham, so it would be pretty illogical not to justify the price of gas with some huge bulk savings. I get why Costco wouldn't have Express lanes, but it makes no sense to me that TJs never did. I can't remember the last time I've wanted to buy more than about five items at TJs at once. And I'm always cast behind somebody with two full carts there. The number of sales I've nixed when I realized there'd be a wait... quite a few.
Ok, ok, dithers aside. I made it to Winco before the maddest of rushing began and filled several bags. It's not the same kind of trip as our Canadian friends make, but I tend to shop at closer grocery stores when I can. So I do treat Winco runs as "stock up on bulk items like you were at Costco" runs. Their major advantage over other stores seems to be in the bulk bins, so I head there, to the frozen veggies (slightly cheaper), the produce (slightly cheaper) and to the eggs (sometimes cheaper, sometimes not so I do the math on arrival).
I had some other errands to do, but it was a beautiful enough day out that I blanched at the prospect of driving more mileage, while also not being particularly drawn to the idea of walking down Samish to do my activities on foot. I love our house, and the location is wonderfully proximate to Lake Padden. On the downside, it's remote from downtown Bellingham. Not as remote as it seems, but there's about a mile and a half of walking along a highway with no sidewalks just to make it to the skirts of "errandville."
Yesterday I drove that bit, parked in the Fred Meyer's parking lot (hoping to buy gas, but the Canadians have found that too, so the line was infinite all day), and walked the rest of my errands. Bellingham is littered with trails. You can't walk more than a few blocks in any direction without stumbling on one or several. If you know them well enough, you can use them in lieu of the regular streets. Yesterday, I walked probably a little over four miles, two of which were trails. Some of the trails are ones I'd never been down before and there were a few moments of wondering where on earth I might emerge at the end of the trail. But I made it around alright.
Yesterday I drove that bit, parked in the Fred Meyer's parking lot (hoping to buy gas, but the Canadians have found that too, so the line was infinite all day), and walked the rest of my errands. Bellingham is littered with trails. You can't walk more than a few blocks in any direction without stumbling on one or several. If you know them well enough, you can use them in lieu of the regular streets. Yesterday, I walked probably a little over four miles, two of which were trails. Some of the trails are ones I'd never been down before and there were a few moments of wondering where on earth I might emerge at the end of the trail. But I made it around alright.
I walk far more "miles" a day when I'm working at my treadmill desk, but it feels different walking outside. Maybe it's all those allergens. Maybe the erosity of the terrain. Maybe that I don't have my water and snacks always laid out for mindless munching. Maybe the fact that I was popping in and out of stores with people and dealing with service folk all day, but I definitely felt more tired out by the end of my little Odyssey and was glad to collapse on the couch a bit by the time I returned.
But it was a lovely way to spend a Saturday. If I had my druthers, I'd never use a car and have time and energy (and clemency of weather) to walk everywhere. But given the impracticality of that in my current life, I'll take a Saturday semi-car-semi-walk.
Happy Sunday. May it be a peaceful start to a new week and our grand splash into May.
And lest you miss your sockage for the day, I present to you nature's version of socks:
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| That's not leghair, I promise |
Gone in the Snap of a Band No tears over spilt cafe au lait
I'm not sure if this officially counts as Physio graduation, but it ought to: while doing my PT exercises on Saturday, I snapped my resistance band clean in two. I had a loop around my foot to do some extension exercises and one extension too many lopped that loop right off to dangle about my foot. Fortunately, the angle was not such that this created some kind of archer's aim towards havoc. I didn't even stumble. But I did have to go run-skip-and-jumping down to the recesses of my "random exercise equipment" stash. Although not the official theraband purchased at the PT office, the set of bands that came with my ball at least are functionally competent to stand the trials of my abduction exercises... for now.
Apparently I am just too much for some exercise equipment. A few years ago, I also managed to snap a band in my mother's old elliptical machine. It appears that the gym has slightly hardier equipment, but I'm gunning for it! Those weight machines shall fall with a carnival clang!!
As I continue my spree of anomie, this morning was (not for the first time) anointed in an ecru kersplash of coffee and milk. I oh so diligently filled up my mug of coffee, my to-go bottle, Andrew's mug, and our extra thermos for remaining coffee. It was all tempting fate too much to have those sitting in a row waiting to be felled. Fortunately, no domino effect, and only my cup of coffee teetered and toppled. And, bright side: the countertop is now really clean.
And in other news (the theme today is random detritus of my daily live... kind of the #fivedayquest gutters-staring-at-stars category). This weekend, I took a break from my gum habit, as I do from time to time just to prove that I'm kind of an addict but maybe not needing actual "anonymous" intervention just yet.
It is no secret that I'm a compulsive gum chewer. Yes, I do chew gum with all sorts of artificial chemicals baked in. No doubt one of the sweeteners or preservatives causes cancer and diabetes and exploding-brain-syndrome... but of course my philosophy is that chewing gum - statistically speaking - is far less of a risk factor than (1) breathing, (2) having been born in the first place, (3) continuing to age.
Still, I will say that the artificial sweeteners may take their toll from time to time. Part of their non-caloric value is that the body can't digest them, or so I understand it. Which is great in theory, except the stomach doesn't always like things it can't digest. Usually it's not an issue, but if my stomach is already slightly off kilter (and at certain HRT barracuda cyclical stages, it really can be just that), I do find a break from the ten-pack a day habit is useful in not exacerbating the intestinal irritability. Note to the humorless: I exaggerate for comic effect, lest you start tut-tutting on that account. Feel free to tut-tut like an Egyptian on my irascible insistence on breathing and aging despite the well known correlational studies advising against such things. So this weekend and maybe a bit of this week, I'm having one of my occasional cold-Turkey trots.
It can be a little maddening. Chewing gum is certainly a stress reducing habitual thing, but as much as not, I appear to favor gum as a means of clearing out the taste of stale food from my mouth! How unorthodox, I know! I eat a lot of pungent flavors - spicy foods, garlic, onions, and so on. And as much as I savor that succulent sapor on a first tussle about the tongue, the decay of such gusto is ... stale.
Not having a postprandial rinse out feels quite grimy. And sugary products leave their own slew of after tastes. I've been brushing my teeth a lot more frequently at any rate. I'm sure I'll be back on "the blue tiger" (Wriggly's peppermint is my poison) in no time, but at least it's good to have some back up colgate in the bathroom at work.
Work! Yes, here we are again. And with nary an epoxy or conclusion to weld the disparate threads of my mind's wanders together, I wish you the best and brightest starts to our heady rush to May.
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