« January 2006 | Main | March 2006 »
February 27, 2006
IKEA love
The Dude and I helped a friend put together some IKEA furniture this weekend. The only word-based instructions in the books were in 13 languages; the English ones said that because of different wall composition, we should consult our nearest hardware/construction store professional for screwing instructions (tee hee)--the Slovenian said that in about 7 words. (Did it say "Get help now" or did it just have a very, very efficient way of making the message clear?)
Anyway, all the instructions for assembly were in pictures, which I got really excited about. It's how I think anyway, and to see the pictures was really refreshing to me. They were so clear and easy to follow. Aaaaaah, I didn't have to interpret language for something that was spatial. I didn't have to analyze the grammar and syntax (poorly written by a construction engineer instead of well written by a language engineer) of bad English--I just looked at the pictures and said, Next we put another row of short shelves in, then a long, then hammer the dowels in. And all that was summed up in one easy picture--1000 words summed up in illustrations, 1000 words in any language at all. Aaaaaahhhhh.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 11:54 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Closing Ceremonies
The Dude and I watched the Closing Ceremonies last night (after we watched Singin' in the Rain). I get so emotional at Olympic broadcasts. Why? I don't know. These people worked so hard to get there and have huge staffs who also work hard to get them there, and boom! all of a sudden it's over.
Did you notice Sasha Cohen's answer to the Intrusive Reporter on the Stadium Floor? Her words and voice were all cheery and Accepting of Fate, but I don't believe her. I've done that too often to believe the general cheer of her answer. In her head she's replaying her falls during the long program and crying because she lost the gold. Yes, she earned the silver, which is much more than I ever will, but her game is a mental game and she lost the gold in her head. It stinks, and she'll cry in private and hopefully get better.
And I'm excited about the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics...and about the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics. Did you see the Canadian team's 'vancouver 2010' scarves? Does the year '2010' seem strange to anybody but me? Doesn't it seem weird that just a little while ago we were all terrified of Y2K and all of the world's technology screeching to a halt, and people actually sold everything and moved to self-sustaining ranches and farms way out in the middle of nowhere, and now we are looking down the road directly at 2010, a brand new decade? Man, I sound old.
Here are tickers that signify my excitement:
Posted by The Newest Worker at 11:31 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Lovin' and hatin'
So everyone at The Department Store was working hard Saturday because there was a Big Sale on Saturday which ended at 2--the registers were stacked up starting at about 12:30 till 2:15. All the available associates (the ones who straighten up the departments or organize the dock instead of working registers) were at the registers bagging while the cashiers were kickin'. It was harried. I loved it.
I love the registers, because I get to read people and try to make them happier while they spend, spend, spend (which is not my fault if they are over-spending...I just do my job!). However, other associates prefer to hang out in the departments, or on the dock, organizing and keeping interactions with (sometimes demanding and often spoiled) customers to a minimum.
I ran into one of these associates after my shift Saturday. She was sitting at a table in the break room with her elbows on the table and her chin/head in her hands, looking totally tired. Three other women were in the break room talking about their kids or something, ignoring this girl. I had a few moments, so I went over to the girl and asked her if she was ok...she started pouring out to me about how she hates the registers and yadda yadda. I sat and listened and then offered to rub her shoulders. She really was pretty tense but not as tense as others (such as Mom after a long day of typing the newsletter at the school she works at, or my friend Littlemissreformed, who is high-energy and often tightly wound)--and I could feel her relaxing as I massaged her.
There are several reasons I report this (and reflect on it myself):
- I recently blogged about profiling, and this girl fits the profile of the type who, when I was in high school, I profiled into the "I'm afraid to approach her with friendship because I'm a goody two shoes and she's not...and she can tell and I'll alienate her because she thinks we have NOTHING in common" category. But in spite of my predisposition to profile her and abandon her, I was able to take the edge off her day by just listening to her woes and offering some physical comfort.
(And a tangent from my point...when I lived in Hawaii and had no family nearby and no friends of consequence, I craved touch. I wanted hugs, massages, handholding, sitting close on the couch. My body just missed contact and I didn't really notice until someone, like the pastor's wife, would hug me and my body would go 'aaaaaaahhhh.' What I am saying is nonsexual, non-manipulative, kind and caring touch. We need it.)
- I have spent time praying about how to work at The Department Store while being a Christian. I don't want to be A.) a blowhard who goes around trumpeting the gospel while being insensitive, but I also don't want to be B.) a pansy, who is always nice (and goodness knows there's enough Niceness here in the South!) but never takes a stand with sinful behavior. What's the tightrope line? Where's the knife edge on which I walk? Jesus guides me...I take one step at a time, being kind and compassionate, quick to forgive, quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, refusing to gossip and showing sincere concern for the people I see every shift. Or I try. And I think this episode with the girl in the break room was part of that, offering her a cup of cool water when she needed it.
- Otter over at Grasping for the Wind wrote about 'loving-the-sinner-hating-the-sin,' and his thoughts sparked some of mine over here. So here's my little thought for the day regarding loving-the-sinner and whatnot.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 09:54 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 24, 2006
Buttonisms, as promised, served reheated as leftovers. Happy reading, and may you giggle at his excellent use of words to convey what everyone else is thinking. May we all become more willing to refuse to let mediocrity slip by uncommentated.
I wish I could convey Dick Button's sarcasm, tone of voice, and cadence in these comments, but I can't. You'll have to imagine, or watch for yourself next time he commentates on skating. Only four years to Vancouver!
On one skater's form: "She has a nice wide-swinging hip movement."
On one skater's bumping into the rink barrier: "She almost made it into the first row!"
In response to the woman commentator (I can't remember her name; what does it matter anyway, since she's a foil for Dick anyway) who claimed that one woman burst onto the skating scene about 10 years ago: "Forgive me for saying this, but she hasn't burst onto this ice at all. It's like there's no fire there."
In a complimentary way, in regards to one woman's clean and calm choreography: "Not a lot of excess arm-flailings."
After a boring perfomance: "Not a with-it perfomance in any way, shape, or form."
After a spin, the description of which Dick Button himself gives: "That was an unattractive sort of production of a spin just to get more points, but that's what the new rules call for, so take it or leave it."
And one more, surprisingly given by the woman commentator. This may be the most inane commentary given all night; Dick may be blunt and surprising but at least he's intelligent in what he says. Anyway, the Woman Commentator said "The difference between Sasha and all the other skaters is that they skate to [the music] Romeo and Juliet, [big dramatic pause here] and Sasha is Juliet." (What? She's 14? She's secretly married? She's heroic and courageous and mature? She's going to kill herself in her own tomb over the body of her dead husband? WHAT do you mean by that, Woman Commentator? Stop trying to sound so intelligent and keep your commentary to skating. Leave the literature to the rest of us.)
So there you have it. I'm sure there were more, but I mashed potatoes last night and The Dude fell asleep on the couch, so I didn't write them down. I did record the skating, though, so I could watch the whole thing again just to hear if I missed any Buttonisms, but I don't care that much. But email me if you'd like to borrow the tape for yourself.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 11:46 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Red Vines
How many of you know what Red Vines are? I do. They are red licorice, basically the same shape as Twizzlers, but chewier, hollower, and cheaper. But delicious.
Sister played nearly every sport, especially volleyball and soccer, throughout her elementary, junior high, and high school years. We, consequently, went to every single game of hers, and I often visited the concession stand. They call it the snack bar now, and sell things like Rice Crispies Treats and PowerAde, but back then it was Coke and Coke products, Red Vines, Red Hot Fireballs, and a variety of candy bars. And popcorn. Hot dogs. And pizza from Louie's.
So while Sister warmed up or did whatever she did with her team, getting ready for the game, Mom and Dad and I had dinner: pizza. My dessert was always a Coke and 5 Red Vines (they were a nickel each and I had a quarter to spend after I bought the Coke for 50 cents--hence the 5 Red Vines). My first sip of Coke was always through a Red Vine straw. You bite off the ends of the Red Vine and stick it down into the Coke can and there you go. There was always a bit of the Red Vine flavor in the Coca-cola, and I was like a wine taster, thinking Oh, that little hint of Red Vine in the brisk bright Coca-cola is so rare. It was.
I had a Red Vine Coke a few years ago, the first in quite a few years. It wasn't the same. It was too sweet! Too bad; I wish I could enjoy them like I used to.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:58 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 23, 2006
Dick Button...
...said, during Tuesday's Figure Skating Broadcast, "She just catched her foot for that spin."
Yes. "Catched."
Tune in tonight for more Dick Button-isms. I'll update tomorrow with the funniest--but they're better served fresh, not as leftovers.
Hah! "Catched."
And his name is funny too. Say it three times out loud: Dick Button, Dick Button, Dick Button. Doesn't that sound funny, make you laugh right out loud in your cubicle or home or college computer lab? Doesn't it? It seems strangely perverse, like a bad word or a dirty joke, and yet it's not. It's his name.
It's like the joke that was hi-larious in 5th grade: "What did the fish say when he hit the cement wall? Dam."
Posted by The Newest Worker at 02:45 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I still don't like my colors.
Bear with me while I still tweak them.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 12:57 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Various Thoughts and Questions
While working at The Department Store, I have plenty of time to think about things, to observe people, and to pray. I'm rarely bored, because most of the winter stock is getting clearanced, so I have lots of shoes to process (take all the stuffing and paper out of the shoes and the box, compare the shoes, and zip-tie them together and put them back in the box) and men's shirts to process (take all the pins out of the shirt, the cardboard behind the shirt and under the collar, put it on a hanger and hang on a z-rail). I do all this processing between customers to ring up. I can usually get it done. Sometimes I help the loading dock people with the intimates: unpack boxes, hang all the intimates, and sort by type. Put EMS tags on all the items over $15 (which are usually the tops).
Some of the things I've thought about during these times are the following:
- Greed, marketing, advertising, consumerism, covetousness--these are all related. Greed is sin, as we know, and it's disabling to be tied to the need to consume. We want to be constantly satisfied with a new toy, and when the shine wears off one toy we go buy another. Our culture revolves around this, but what I want to know is--did Adam and Eve ever have preference while in the unfallen state? Did they ever wake up one morning and want to have apple instead of guava for breakfast and go looking for an apple tree? What I mean is, is desire/preference/want sinful in and of itself, or is it just when it takes over and perverts into greed, covetousness, and materialism that it turns into sin?
- People don't like to be treated like they're dummies. One of the biggest chances for me and my fellow cashiers to do this is when immigrants come to our registers. When Spanish speaking people come, or when Russian speaking people come, they don't like it when a cashier starts speaking louder. (Hello? He's not deaf just because he only speaks a little English!) I really work hard not to do that. I notice when English skills are missing and accomodate by speaking individual words slowly and clearly and patiently. Emphasizing different syllables doesn't work--that still sounds weird, doesn't it? "Your-to-tal-is-for-ty-sev-en-thir-ty-six." So at least I try to be respectful.
- Profiling is such a wicked thing these days in America, especially racial profiling. But we do it all the time. A customer comes up and I can tell if they live on the mountain (in Tennessee OR in Georgia, at that!) or in Trenton. I can tell if they're Southerners or not. Americans or not. I treat people differently based on their gender, socioeconomic class, ethnicity, nationality, etc. I spend time praying about this, and I've decided it's not wicked at its core, but can easily become wicked in application. For example, I rang up a Russian woman the other day, and when I realized the chitchat was making her uncomfortable (because they don't chitchat with the help in Russia--and I write that without the negative connotation that comes with the phrase "the help"), I stopped the chitchat. I try to observe what makes certain types of people uncomfortable and what makes other types of people uncomfortable. Is it Despicable Racial (or Whatever Criterion) Profiling to be observant of patterns and to respect them?
- I worked Valentine's Day and I sold a lot of Valentine Gifts. It nearly ruined the day for me. There's so much marketing and consumerism associated with the day that it's sickening. There were the nice men and women, the sweet- and kind-hearted ones, who bought their partners greeting cards and gifts (clothes, candles, intimates of course, and I even sold a pair of running shoes as a Valentine Gift, which could be dangerous, like buying your enomorata a membership to a workout club and a lot of SlimFast), who bought their children gifts, their mothers and grandmothers gifts, their coworkers gifts--a lot of money came into my register just for these people to buy stuff to prove "I really do love you!" Sigh. About half of the men were sincere and cutely excited about pleasing their wives, but one man in particular sticks out. He bought his wife a Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer that was on sale. It was a Big Ticket Item--about $350 with tax--and I complimented him on his Wonderful Gift, when he said with a very subtle snarly, disrespectful tone: "Oh, she goes through these phases and now she bakes cakes." Eye roll. "She wanted a mixer. Here it is, and it'll be dusty in a year." That really bothered me, and I figured out why: I'd rather not have a gift, not even a Big Ticket Item, if it came with that sort of attitude. Thankfully, I have the love from The Dude every day, not just on Valentines Day.
- I had a chance to talk to a colleague while we processed shirts. This woman talks like a country person, goes to church and behaves like a Christian (what I mean is she's full of the Fruit of the Spirit), and we got to talking about where we go to church. The more we talked, the more I realized I was talking, and the more I talked, the more I realized I was alienating her because I was coming across like an overeducated preppy jerk. I finally said that the people I spend my time with tend to talk a lot about faith, and that we all know that living and walking day by day is the hard part. Then I shut up.
- It's hard to break into a new workplace. I've done it plenty of times, and here are some tips: Set a long amount of time, like 6 months, to make yourself be quiet and observe the social flow of the place you're entering. Take note of how people talk to each other, who is the Alpha person, who is the nice boss, who can be trusted to give you trustworthy advice. Make it obvious that you are friendly, that you don't gossip (assume that everyone else is gossiping about everything you say, so share sparingly, or share stuff you don't mind getting passed around about you). Be extremely careful about complaining about anything, esp. about work-related stuff. Be discreet. Fly under the radar. Let other people come to you as friends. It'll happen, it will--but you have to wait for them to come to you.
- I love it when people listen to me talk and say, "You're not from around here, are you?" No, but I live here. People don't listen to speech and place them geographically in my hometown in Colorado--unless you're a Southerner. Or a New Yorker. But New Yorkers and East Coast People don't leave, not even to visit the Rocky Mountains. They're convinced there's no other place worth seeing if it means leaving their Perfect East Coast area.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 11:58 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 20, 2006
However...
...The Department Store people are still great to work with, even on the worst day ever. They're still nice, even when the pressure's high.
And at least all the customers who had to wait forEVER today were patient and kind to me. That's rare. So, customers of mine, props to you. You were great today, even if I was not.
Enough of today. Goodnight moon.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:46 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
You never realize how often you use your other hand...
...until you peel your non-dominant index finger with your (very sharp, new, nice wedding-gift) kitchen knife.
Yep, it's been that kind of a day. All day long, I mis-typed stuff on the register. I forgot to give people their receipts. I wasn't able to solicit many credits. Some of the stuff that happened wasn't my fault, like when the lady used her The Department Store charge card, and the register instructed me to call Corporate right away...they gave me an approval number, but then the register instructed me to call another branch of Corporate right away. The lady's husband, the primary on the account, had passed away and they needed to confirm her continued existence...this whole process took about 10 minutes of waiting and the lines stacked up so two of the guys in the Shoe department took over registers, but one of them wasn't register-trained, so he kept interrupting me with silly questions like "Which way does the check go?" and "How do I run a credit card?" The lady finally got her The Department Store credit card savings, got her luggage, got her receipt, and the next customer (who waited patiently) was paying with a return credit...which had not been validated in customer service...so the manager who just happened to be there was able to run back to customer service and help the poor customer out. Meanwhile, the other shoe department guy (who knew what he was doing on a register) kept calling for the backup, and I looked to see who the backup person was, and management had not scheduled backup from 2:30 till 3:30 today. The guy needed a void on his register and could only get it from management, kept calling "Backup to Register Bank 2" on the intercom and nobody answered because there was no Backup on duty. None of the other managers knew to listen for that page, either.
My replacement didn't come till 20 minutes after I was supposed to be gone, but with the frenzy at the registers, the running back to customer service for a new return credit, one register having register tape stuck in the printer, the other register being slow as molasses (let's face it, everyone is slow if they haven't been trained!), nobody noticed. My replacement came, I finished my transaction, left the register, but the lines were backed way, way up, so I logged into another register and cleared the line out for Slow Shoe Department Guy.
I finally left, got home, watched Chariots of Fire with The Dude, and decided I wanted mashed potatoes with dinner. While I was dicing the potatoes, I sliced my right index finger, basically peeling it with my (wonderful, sharp new wedding-gift) kitchen knife. The Dude ran to get a bandaid, I ran to the sink, but the rinsing made it hurt worse. I bandaided myself and finished the mashed potatoes, deciding not to head out to Alumni Choir Practice because I'll probably cause a 40-car pileup on Ochs Highway.
I just knocked my kneecap on the corner of my desk while pulling my chair back in, and every time I type a Y, H, N, U, J, M, or 7 or 8, my finger hurts.
Yeah, it's been one of those days. I'm going to bed.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:37 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 17, 2006
Flotsam and Jetsam
- The people at The Department Store are really nice to work with. I really like being recognized and greeted cheerfully. It doesn't feel asinine and high-school and cliqey to me, which is a nice change.
- A man came by the registers today (during a big rush...four registers going with about 6 people in each line). He had an armload of dress shirts and whatnot and asked me if I would keep an eye on them. "Can I set these here?" he asked, pointing to the counter of an unused register. I told him he could set them there, but I was in the middle of ringing another customer, explaining the benefits of The Department Store Credit Card, and wasn't really paying attention to him.
(And it occurs to me, as I write this, that while this guy was asking if he could set his stuff down on his counter, the Security Guards had just called me and asked about my previous customer..."The girl that you just sold the white shirt to? What happened to her?"...and I was creeped out about my phone ringing and the person questioning me about my customer knew all the details about the transaction but weren't where I could see them.)
So we get the lines cleared out, I answer every customer's questions ("Returns are at Customer Service, over in that area of the store") and I'm talking to another associate, when This Guy comes back and asks where his clothes were. I told him I didn't know, and he said, "But I asked you to keep an eye on them," in that tone of voice that communicates in the subtext You dummy. It's not like you're busy or anything, and why can't you do this one simple thing for me? The men's associate who had taken them, assuming they had been abandoned and needed to be replaced on the shelves, heard this interchange, came out from behind her trousers-shelf and explained where she had put them. He stalked away, and I was about to let him get to me when she said "Why can't people use the carts we provide for them?" It's nice to get a littly sympathy.
- One of our Managers had an accident last Sunday. He was in his driveway going to get his paper and slipped, cracked his head, got a concussion, and fractured his skull. He was in the neurologic ICU for a few days, the normal ward at the hospital for a few days, and now he's at home. He's going to be out for a few weeks, and The Department Store staff ask after him all the time. Pray for him, for his healing, for his family, and for his salvation (if necessary...I don't know if he's saved or not). Pray that this shock to the camaraderie at The Department Store would be a cause to ask questions about life and death and longevity and eternal security. And pray that if there's a chance, that I would be bold in my words and evangelize whomever needs it.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 07:34 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 13, 2006
Clear Instructions (Light II)
Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience. Therefore do not associate with them; for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to speak of the things that they do in secret. But when anything is exposed by the light, it becomes visible, for anything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says,
"Awake, O sleeper,
and arise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you."
Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.
--Ephesians 5:6-17
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:41 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Katie Couric makes Monday mornings easier
...when she says ridiculous things like "Today the women's snowboard team is going to" (checks cue card here) "bust some big air." (Spoken like she's repeating a foreign language cue. Very clearly enunciated.) "Bust some big air."
In other news/opinion:
- Is anyone really shocked that Michelle Kwan has dropped out? She's always been such a 'mental game' competitor. She psyches herself out, especially at the Olympics, and with her falls and re-injury at her recent practice, it was obvious she had done it again. But kudos to her for pulling out. She knows that she can't compete at top form, so she's getting out of the way for someone who can. That's team spirit for sure. But I still wish I could see her get her gold medal!
- Motorola and other cellphone companies are working on programming smart cellphones, that will know not to ring in the movie theater, or in church, or during a meeting...but also programming them to make exceptions. Sounds really interesting. One programmer (interviewed on Morning Edition on NPR) said his dream was to make people emotionally more interconnected. "To know that my kids are ok and that my wife is thinking of me...that would be great." (Here comes my punch line.) If other wives are like me, in terms of thinking of hubby, then can you IMAGINE how often their cellphones would ring just to tell them we were thinking of them?
Posted by The Newest Worker at 08:45 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 12, 2006
And the medal for the most dangerous job goes to...
...no, it's not what you expected, something like a police officer or firefighter.
The award goes to the guy in the carnival who guesses weight and age.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:11 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
New colors
As you can see, I'm in the middle of a new color scheme. It's not quite there yet. Be patient.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 05:35 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Light
For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said:
"Wake up, O sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you."
Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord's will is.
--Ephesians 5:8-17 NIV
Posted by The Newest Worker at 02:48 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 11, 2006
Mr. Button, tell us the truth!
The Dude says “Dick is the Simon of figure skating.” (He means Simon Cowell, the mean American Idol judge.) Dick always tells the truth. “That’s not the most attractive death spiral I’ve ever seen.” “That circular footwork is … slow.” "Nobody knows how to do a sit spin anymore. Don't they know to sit down all the way and spin?" "Finally, someone getting into a death spiral without that horrible sqatting position." And of course the ever-perennial, multi-useful “What was that?”
We always watched figure skating in my family. It was an Event, and I remember the Lillehammer Olympics the best. That was the winter of Nancy Kerrigan, of Paul Wylie, and of Ekaterina and Sergei. It was the opening ceremonies of Scandinavian design and really pretty handknit sweaters. (Remember, I’ve got Scandinavian blood. It’s normative to me.)
Anyway, we always watched figure skating in my family. We would ooooh and aaaah over the new routines and the artistic scores and groan and get upset over poor judging. (We didn’t have the chance to be involved with the Sale-Pelletier Figure Skating Scandal of the Salt Lake Olympics because I was in college and my sister was newly married; we all lived far from each other.)
My Uncle Janis always enjoyed the figure skating, too. Certainly the funniest part of figure skating is Dick Button’s commentary. (Cerainly the funniest part of Mr. Button is his name. Say it with me: Dick Button. Dick Button. How can you not laugh or at least giggle embarrasedly?) Uncle Janis laughed and laughed at Dick’s commentary, because he just tells it like it is, unlike the shallow and uncritical commentary others give. They talk about the competitor’s upbringing, the coaching history, health issues, body type, costume design, anything besides “That was terrible!” Dick is refreshing. And his commentary brings back good memories.
Can you imagine if everything had Dick’s commentary?
- The Miss America Pageant: “That evening gown does nothing to minimize her hips.” “What was she thinking, picking singing as her talent? She can’t sing.” “Ooooh, she just tripped.”
- Gymnastics: “It’s a mystery as to why they’d choose purple and lime green for their unitards.” “Oh, that’s terrible music. Can you imagine practicing to that music for a year? No wonder she can’t stick any landings.” “He looks like he could stand to do a few more pushups.” “Stop crying, honey.”
- Fashion: “What is the purpose of the large gold purse?” “Those shoes are ugly.” “White shoes are a bad choice for anyone who has a shoe size larger than 5.”
Maybe we should all be as critical and honest as Dick is. Let’s speak up, people, and point out that the emperor has no clothes. If we don’t, who will?
Posted by The Newest Worker at 09:38 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 10, 2006
Chronological Disorientation
This is the first Olympiad that has caused chronological disorientation. The last Olympics were in Greece, only a year and a half ago, not that long according to the calendar. The Olympics before that were the Salt Lake Olympics, and I simply cannot believe that it was four years ago. The Olympics before that were the Nagano Olympics, during my senior year in high school, and when the Salt Lake Olympics came around, it really felt like four years had gone by. (The Olympics before that were the Lillehammer Olympics, during my eighth grade year…again, it felt like four years had justifiably passed.)
But this time, it’s simply not realistic. It doesn’t feel like four years! It doesn’t! I don’t feel that much older, and I’m just amazed that it’s been that long.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 09:40 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
One more...
I'm headed off to Waltopia to get groceries for tonight's dinner party/Olympics watching event, then back here to cook and clean, then off to The Department Store for my shift, but I thought I'd give you one more thing to read before I leave for the morning.
I have a lot of funny stories about being The Person Behind the Counter at The Department Store. I'll codify some of them and pay attention today to tell you them in a humorous manner so that you all may enjoy the interesting and insightful things I have to say about customers. (Customers are people too! They may think I'm the one behind bars, but seeing so many people traffic in and out of The Department Store sometimes makes me feel like an anthropologist or a zookeeper, watching the wildlife in their natural habitat. It's amazing what you can learn when you watch and know what to watch for.)
Seriously, all irony and sarcasm aside...my stories are interesting and insightful. People really let down their guard when it's just The Register Girl there. You can tell a lot about people based on what they buy (Hmmm...a nightgown set, tissue paper, and a gift bag, and next week is Valentine's day...), and they are willing to make chitchatty chitchat because it's just the Person Behind the Counter they're talking to.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:41 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
PS
David Gray is crooning to me from my little computer speakers:
Please forgive me
If I act a little strange
For I know not what I do.
Feels like lightning running through my veins
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Help me out here
All my words are falling short
And there's so much I want to say
Want to tell you just how good it feels
When you look at me that way
When you look at me that way
Throw a stone and watch the ripples flow
Moving out across the bay
Like a stone I fall into your eyes
Deep into some mystery
Deep into that mystery
I got half a mind to scream out loud
I got half a mind to die
So I won't ever have to lose you girl
Won't ever have to say goodbye
I won't ever have to lie
Won't ever have to say goodbye
Yeah na na na na
Yeah na na na na
Please forgive me
If I act alittle strange
For I know not what I do
It's like my head is filled with lightning girl
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Everytime I look at you
Friday night I'm going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over TV stations
Situations running through my head
Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind
I've been a fool
To ever open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule
Saturday I'm running wild
And all the lights are changing red to green
Moving through the crowd I'm pushing
Chemicals all rushing through my bloodstream
Only wish that you were here
You know I'm seeing it so clear
I've been afraid
To tell you how I really feel
Admit to some of those bad mistakes I've made
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And fall in love
Babylon, Babylon
Sunday all the lights of London
Shining, sky is fading red to blue
I'm kicking through the Autumn leaves
And wondering where it is you might be going to
Turning back for home
You know I'm feeling so alone
I can't believe
Climbing on the stair
I turn around to see you smiling there
In front of me
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And fall in love
Babylon, Babylon, Babylon
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:22 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
I didn't think it was possible, but...
...my morning coffee is too sweet. Every sip makes my eyebrows raise a little, makes me swallow and think Did I get that at a gas station? That's not the taste I was going for. However, it's not Waltopia brand coffee, but hazelnut flavored coffee.
For me, hazelnut coffee is the normative flavor, because Dad always had hazelnut coffee and I'd drink it Saturday mornings when Mom and Dad and I played gin rummy and drank coffee and ate egg sandwiches together. I had it with sugar and milk then, too, but not this much sugar.
Speaking of egg sandwiches, I made egg sandwiches the night before our (The Dude , SIL, and I) road trip to Western Pennsylvania for The Dude's brother's wedding. I made them on nice kaiser rolls, with slices of process cheese, with nice ham, and a sheet of hot scrambled egg. Then SIL and I bagged them in zip top bags and put them in the fridge, and I put them in the cooler the next morning. The Dude ate his right away (it was yummy) and I ate mine later, after microwaving it in a gas station's little microwave. Mine had a bit of mayo, and it was yummy.
That's the stream of consciousness this morning. That, plus I have to go edit my post from last night and publish it. It's good readin'. Enjoy. And good morning.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:15 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 09, 2006
Ok, this is obviously a cross-cultural moment
Ok, Bobbo is blogging a lot about cross-cultural stuff over there where he is. But I'll tell you what, I get it over here too.
Having grown up in Colorado (yes, I know I mention that a lot, but the differences between here and there hit me pretty often), I'm just not used to this cultural Christianity thing. People there generally mean it when they go to church, and those who don't go to church know why they don't go to church. It's a much clearer divide between the Christians and the non-Christians, and people don't just go to church because they always have. Generally. So there are really subtle things here in the South that just get me...
For example, The Dude and I celebrate our Seven Month-versary today and decided to celebrate by eating out...at Burger King. I've been craving a greasy burger and good fries, so of course it was BK. I made a scene once at the BK near the Yum-Yum Good Food (anyone know what that street name is?), so we went to the Ringgold Road BK after going through that tunnel...
Anyway, we get to the BK and see a lot of cars there, and a lot of people in the BK at 7:35. What is going on? I think to myself. We walk in, and there seems to be a concert going on. (Yes, with an AV setup, monitors, speakers, the whole deal. In the BK.) Some church group has a music thing-y at that BK every Thursday. They were talking about God and about good memories ("Someday you all are going to look back on this and remember all the good times we had singing at the Burger King!"), and singing songs. It was really something. It was something, but I don't know what.
You know, I'd be ok with the "It's ok, it's just different in the South" thing, but The Dude and I asked the register kid about them, if they were nice, if they were polite, and after pausing (a pregnant pause) he said, "Some of them are nice." That made me mad and sad because the Concert Leaders were talking so freely about Christ and God and then some of the people were apparently rude to the Person Behind the Counter. (We behind-the-counter people can tell, you know, when you're rude to us.) That's not faithful to the ministry of the gospel. But who was I to interrupt the Concert and chide the church people for their rudeness to the kid? I did my best to politely explain and not make a scene, but I'm afraid I wasn't able to. Oh well.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 10:24 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Doubt
Doubt was like smoke--it found cracks and worried its was inside until it clouded the joy that was there before. A little could fill a big volume of space.
Henderson, Dee. The Healer. Sisters, Oregon: Multnomah, 2002.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 06:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 06, 2006
My Self-Made Makeover
A while ago Jeanneatte posted her own syllabus. I've been mulling about it a while and have decided to make my own.
So I'm off to Greyfriar's to do the following:
Read my today's Scripture assignment
Skim old emails from The Dude to work on his Film Elective (which he is teaching in just a few weeks)
Think about my career path
Think about my syllabus
Think about my new blog colors (I love these but I need to have a new image with my new Makeover.
I am leaving GF at 4:30 to go get The Dude. We walk in the woods on one of the many paths on the Mountain. After that, we will eat dinner together and I will go to Scots Choir practice. (If any alumni or interested parties want to join the choir, it's at 7 pm in CL22. You don't have to tolerate the terrible orange carpet anymore; it's been replaced.)
---
Items of interest, at least to me:
- I was dicing potatoes Saturday evening, and managed to slice into my right thumbnail with my very sharp new knife. Now there's a half-moon gouge that's at a pretty shallow angle. It points at my wrist, and will be a while till it grows out enough to trim without trimming into flesh. I'll have to wear a bandaid at The Department Store so it doesn't catch on clothes as I'm bagging and rip off. It doesn't hurt or bleed, though.
- I have had a total of three ripped contact lenses in one box so far. (They were really ripped when I inspected them the moment I opened the bubble pack.) I'm not quite near the next eye-care-insurance cycle, so I can't just go to the eye care provider and order another year's worth, but I called around, got in touch with the manufacturer, explained my problem, and they offered to send me a brand new box. Of contacts! Woohoo--that's three months' worth for free!
Posted by The Newest Worker at 02:50 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 02, 2006
Idols Exposed
Eastern Birds also had these questions to expose our idols.
1. When I think "I'll be happy if only..." , that "if only" is an idol.
2. What sends me quickly into depression?
3. What do I avoid or seek at all costs?
4. What do I dream about night and day? If I'm not forced to do something, what do I do?
5. What do I pray for?
6. Whom MUST I please?
7. On my deathbed, what will I consider has made my life worthwhile?
Posted by The Newest Worker at 02:34 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Fruit of the Spirit
Eastern Birds had this to say:
Spirit, source of fruit.
love. I hold others in a state that’s their best
joy. I am quick to be restored to union with my God
peace. I have equilibrium in this broken world
patience. I wait expectantly in hope
kindness. I respect, honor, and encourage
goodness. I have an outside source for right
faithfulness. I will be here to trust
gentleness. I turn away wrath with a soft answer
self-control. I am strong and alert.
Learning to practice until it comes natural.
Posted by The Newest Worker at 02:30 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack