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Bookie McBooks:
Today's Etiquette Tip: It's nice to offer your seat on the bus to someone else, regardless of age or gender, especially if you're almost at your own stop. the Play's the Thing
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I am now working once in a while at Williams-Sonoma; they offered more bucks than I thought they would, and for the most part, my first few hours were fun--I'd forgotten that I actually enjoy selling neat things to nice people. First sale was lots of fun: man came in looking for a $7.50 jar of something we were out of, and so I sold him a $29 jar of something else that would do what he wanted, but with more effort on his part. 40 percent employee discount. If you want anything. I'm going to go for a walk--Gus just hopped up, licked my hair and bit my hand. I leaned over and bit his head. Possibly inappropriate? Not entirely complete yet, but it's finally live: the Baby Corner site. Neat group, very local; give them money if you have some money to give. and then there's this.  How weird is it to run a 101.5 fever and not notice? I'm leaning towards blaming methadone, but maybe I was just paying attention to other things. I'm not really sick-sick--no cough or anything--I'm just tired and achy and feverish. Another, happier surprise is this project winning the first round. I'm a neighbor of the Wintonia, and I wish more neighbors were as nice as some of the folks who live there. I'd say it's the quietest building around, if you wanted to include the extremely regular bambulance visits at all the old folks' places nearby. And "public uriniation"? Sorry, but that happens when bars with younger male patrons get popular more often that happens with a alcoholic with his own private toilet a couple stories away. And gee, how much do you suppose it would cost to add a public restroom in the area? Oh wait, this is Seattle. We don't need to pee. Off to Manzanita cuteness very shortly. Got clips off this morning to yet another possible market and a pile of work from another editor...no, really, I'm still slightly motivated to get a "real" job for a bit. I figured out that about two hours of work at a crap-paying market will equal one month of part-time hourly seasonal work, so it's hard to think it might still be worth it. We'll see. A 40% discount at a great kitchen store is a strong motivator. No More Toys for this girl. Cuteness: our home has a minimart below it, run by an impossibly hard working Chinese couple. The husband looks some years older than the wife; she is pretty grumpy, but also frequently smells like White Flower Oil (great stuff), so I think she is probably grumpy from some sort of pain. Joe works every morning shift, arriving at about 6:30 AM and working until around 4, seven days a week--they treat themselves by occasionally opening at 9 or 10 on special holidays. He happens to like Tracy Chapman's first album, particularly "Fast Car"--it plays several times a week. The language of pop is universal. I bet he also loves the Spice Girls, and shaking it to the left. One time.
In an effort to set aside a pile of cash for taxes, I thought I'd go get a holiday temp job--a few hours here and there, and ta dah! I'd have enough to satisfy the man and get myself through what I already know is the slim season--freelancers fall off the radar between 12/1 and 1/15, in my experience. But instead of trotting downtown in my Work Attire and filling out the sort of application that I used to have to sort through by the hundreds, I have been steadily working on long-delayed writing projects. This week, so far, I've sent one query to a new possible market, clips to two places (one isn't online), finished my amazingly organized submitting system (it works!), followed up with several previous clients and editors, and gotten in some solid work on the back manuscript. The problem, of course, is that editorial wheels grind exceedingly slowly, and even if I get a positive response from each one, it means money for the end of 2003, not next week. So I'm selling things on ebay. But really, I still think I'll be getting a job. No, really. I spent a chunk of time this afternoon working away on a manuscript for The Sun, about my back. It's going well so far, but it's sort of funny to be interrupted writing by pretty bad pain. Much of the time, I would grit teeth and keep at it, but it's hard not to realize the dumbness when writing about it. The "bacon" part is about dinner, featuring Everyone's Favorite Meat. All Hail Nigella, who gave the world Bacon Salad. With Bacon Fat Dressing. Tasty. And, if you're looking to waste time, peep at this timewaster from Brothermine. The "news" section has the best stuff, sez me. Tucker, the smaller cat, likes to walk with us when we take the trash to the chute at the end of the hall. A couple nights ago, two neighbor women came out of their apartment while Sweetie and Tuck were making their little trip. They exclaimed that the cat was the size of a dog, and Sweetie said, "oh, you've gotta see the big one." He opened the door and showed them Gus. One of them said, "is that just one cat?" Poor fat kitty. I wish he was nicer to guests; he can really by awfully sweet, and no one believes me. Also, I had an actually productive day today, which was nice. Sciatica is really rearing its ugly parts right now--I'm blaming the weather. Why not? or maybe I should blame Sweetie? It's hard to get excited about much today; it's too colorless. Yesterday we saw Frida, and you should too. Not perfect, no, but very good. Not too easy to watch the story of a woman whose life was so entirely affected by physical pain, and who died from all the assorted complications--kidney problems, circulation problems, addictions--that come along with hurting all the time. Very bright and colorful, though. Sweetie required Mexican food after all that, so we went to Burrito Loco--the new one, in U Village. Nice mural, nice food, nice people. In a small attempt to add color, I've been coloring my birthday gify from Holly--the Hello Tarot. Fun. Plus an excuse to use my 12-year-old, 96-piece pencil set. Saturday morning, I went to Seattle Cooks with my stereotypable lads--we start our cooking classes this Thursday. Starting with roux and pan deglazing. It's a hand up, not a hand out. Recipes? Who needs recipes? Yeah, I say OW! alot, especially in the kitchen, but this time for sure. I made my first-ever batch of lollipops, and received the first second degree burn I've had in quite some time. Note: 300 degree sugar syrup is a dangerous thing. It's a small burn, and a pretty triangular shape. I now need to clean up my kitchen, as 300 degree sugar syrup has a tendency to get everywhere. Especially when food colorings have been added. I managed to get at least six bowls, three cookie sheets, and innumerable spoons dirty. It's tempting to simply lick everything clean, but I can see the headlines now: Woman Found Dead in Kitchen, Slumped Over Pile of Spoons. Boy, my burn hurts. Had a lovely partee and dinner with Brothermine over the weekend; more birthday partees next weekend. In the meantime: work. Wish I was motivated. All I really want to do is read, play Mario Party IV and watch the first season of the Sopranos. Funny to see kids so torn about their parents being connected--I would've been positively thrilled. Anyway, the updates will get more interesting soon, what with the beginning of Food Club. The first rule of Food Club is don't talk about Food Club. The second rule of Food Club is don't talk about Food Club with your mouth full. |
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