I'm already wishing that Mitt Romney just wouldn't run for the presidency. Not like I'd vote for him, since I'm a Democrat and I didn't like the things he did while governor of Massachusetts so I would hate to see what he'd do with the whole country. But I don't want him to run for really selfish reasons: it's going to make it very uncomfortable for the rest of us.
The bloggernacle has been all abuzz with commentaries on Andrew Sullivan and the showing of the g's on his website. Ever since there started being inklings that Mitt might run for president, I could see this coming. Not only would we see the things that we consider sacred paraded out in front of the world, but old and often uncomfortable histories would be dragged out into the light and the scrutiny of the media and the blogworld.
Today at work there was a conversation going on behind me that I elected not to be involved in, but that was spoken loudly enough for me to overhear. Some people here know that I'm Mormon, but I doubt those people do, or else they would have spoken more quietly. They were all people who I have chatted with before and have been friendly with, they just don't happen to know I'm Mormon.
The topic of the conversation: Mormons are so crazy! Basically, one guy started talking about everything he had ever heard about the crazy Mormon theology (true and untrue), the shady history of Joseph Smith, and current tales of what we can and can't do. Of note:
- We don't drink coffee, but we can drink Coke because the church owns part of Coke
- Joseph Smith was arrested for swindling people prior to The First Vision
- The Virgin Mary was Eve
One girl regaled the group with stories of playing tennis on courts shared with a couple of Mormon girls and how they were 17 and already married. Plus, they used these crazy words rather than swearing (probably stuff like "oh my heck" and "fetch," I'm betting). Another talked about this guy he knew at another job who had 10 kids. Their tones and their words emphasized how odd they believe Mormons are in general, and the stories just served to emphasize that supposition.
I don't know how the conversation got started, but I would bet Mitt Romney was a jumping-off point.
As someone who has a hard enough time dealing with some of the more strange and contradictory elements of our church history, I'm really not up to defending the religion to all who read the latest article on "Weird Moments in Mormon Theology" and come to me, their local neighborhood Mormon, to confirm or deny the latest tale.
So for the sake of us all, please, stop the campaign now, Mitt.
Plus, you know, I don't really want you to be my president anyway.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
I Am A Swimmer
I went swimming last night. I haven't swum laps in over a year and I can't even express how fantastic I felt afterward. There is just something about water that does it for me. From the second I ducked under the water and pushed off the wall, I felt like I was completely in my comfort zone. I wound up swimming 50 laps.
I also had a little ego boost to go along with the endorphins. Except for a couple of totally in shape swimmers, I was lapping everyone else in the pool. Just think what I could do if I was actually in shape. I was totally bragging to Jason last night, but I let myself do it because swimming is the one thing I do really well. I know I have said this many times before, but I would love to compete again. The pool I go to has a Masters Swimming group that I want to join once I lose a little weight and get my endurance up more.
I was thinking about it as I walked to work this morning and for once losing weight doesn't feel like my ultimate goal. Losing weight is now a means to an end: I need to lose weight in order to swim at my desired level. I came home last night and didn't really want to eat the crap that I've been craving almost every day for, oh, at least a year. I just had some turkey soup and a few crackers for dinner.
There are a couple of things I need to keep this up: new goggles and good warm-up pants. My goggles are kind of old and the lenses aren't exactly clear, per se. As for the pants, I realized I would need some good layered ones as I walked home last night in what amounted to pretty mild temperatures, particularly for late November, and my wet bum got progressively colder and colder until I didn't want the fabric to touch my skin anymore because it felt like ice. Yeah, my normal knit work out pants are not going to cut it once it gets really cold.
I also had a little ego boost to go along with the endorphins. Except for a couple of totally in shape swimmers, I was lapping everyone else in the pool. Just think what I could do if I was actually in shape. I was totally bragging to Jason last night, but I let myself do it because swimming is the one thing I do really well. I know I have said this many times before, but I would love to compete again. The pool I go to has a Masters Swimming group that I want to join once I lose a little weight and get my endurance up more.
I was thinking about it as I walked to work this morning and for once losing weight doesn't feel like my ultimate goal. Losing weight is now a means to an end: I need to lose weight in order to swim at my desired level. I came home last night and didn't really want to eat the crap that I've been craving almost every day for, oh, at least a year. I just had some turkey soup and a few crackers for dinner.
There are a couple of things I need to keep this up: new goggles and good warm-up pants. My goggles are kind of old and the lenses aren't exactly clear, per se. As for the pants, I realized I would need some good layered ones as I walked home last night in what amounted to pretty mild temperatures, particularly for late November, and my wet bum got progressively colder and colder until I didn't want the fabric to touch my skin anymore because it felt like ice. Yeah, my normal knit work out pants are not going to cut it once it gets really cold.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The Documents. They Just Keep Coming.
There is a fine art to not losing your mind while doing document review. I have a couple of tactics for getting through my days. The first thing I do is manipulate my document database. First I do the documents in numerical order, which is the order they were loaded into the database. I do about 100 this way, and then I organize them by title, thus showing all the duplicates of the ones I've already done and allowing me to copy/paste and rapidly code away.
I know, thrill a minute.
What really gets me through my days is 1) emails (keep 'em coming!), and 2) internet radio. During the first phase of my day when I have to pay attention to what I'm reading because they want some actual analysis of the documents, I listen to music, because silence just makes me sleepy and depressed. My music provider of choice is Pandora.
I think Pandora wins the award for the internet radio station that takes itself the most seriously. They have worked up this system they call The Music Genome Project where you type in an artist or the title of a song that you like and they proceed to build you a station based on that particular preference. And they have really specific reasons for their selections. For example, I am currently listening to my Pixies radio station. They just played a song by The Raveonettes that they picked "because it features a subtle use of vocal harmony, extensive vamping, major key tonality and many other similarities [to The Pixies]." You can create multiple stations and so far I have the Pixies station, the Nickel Creek station, the Enya station, the Imogen Heap station, and the "It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas" (Frank Sinatra version) station.
While I am doing duplicates and can actually use my brain for something else, I like to listen to NPR podcasts and the archives of This American Life. On NPR I've been bouncing back and forth between the archived shows of Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me and the Holiday stories from this and past years.
And that's how I spend 8-10 hours of my days. I need a real job.
I know, thrill a minute.
What really gets me through my days is 1) emails (keep 'em coming!), and 2) internet radio. During the first phase of my day when I have to pay attention to what I'm reading because they want some actual analysis of the documents, I listen to music, because silence just makes me sleepy and depressed. My music provider of choice is Pandora.
I think Pandora wins the award for the internet radio station that takes itself the most seriously. They have worked up this system they call The Music Genome Project where you type in an artist or the title of a song that you like and they proceed to build you a station based on that particular preference. And they have really specific reasons for their selections. For example, I am currently listening to my Pixies radio station. They just played a song by The Raveonettes that they picked "because it features a subtle use of vocal harmony, extensive vamping, major key tonality and many other similarities [to The Pixies]." You can create multiple stations and so far I have the Pixies station, the Nickel Creek station, the Enya station, the Imogen Heap station, and the "It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas" (Frank Sinatra version) station.
While I am doing duplicates and can actually use my brain for something else, I like to listen to NPR podcasts and the archives of This American Life. On NPR I've been bouncing back and forth between the archived shows of Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me and the Holiday stories from this and past years.
And that's how I spend 8-10 hours of my days. I need a real job.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Pumpkin Pecan Pie & Sweet Potatoes
I made this pie last night for a pie party I'm going to. A couple of things to keep in mind:- The pumpkin part of the recipe will expand more than your average pecan pie so when they say you need a deep pie crust, they mean it. Me and my now-ruined cookie sheet learned this the hard way. It's really hard to get caramelized Caro syrup off a cookie sheet, but it does give your home a nice creme brulee scent.
- Make sure your surface is level. The cookie sheet I placed the pie on was kind of warped and that aided in the whole corn syrup all over the cookie sheet affair.
Despite these slight mishaps, the pie still turned out well and had a sufficient amount of corn syrup/butter/egg goodness. Seriously, pecan pie is just the result of someone asking, "How can I speed up that heart attack?"
Pumpkin Pecan Pie
3 eggs
1 cup canned solid pack pumpkin
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground ginger
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
1 frozen deep 9 inch pie crust, thawed
2/3 cup dark corn syrup
2 Tbs. unsalted butter, melted
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup pecans or walnuts, coarsely chopped
Preheat oven to 350° F. Combine 1 egg, pumpkin, 1/3 cup sugar and spices in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Spread evenly in bottom of pie crust. Lightly beat remaining eggs in another bowl. Add in corn syrup, remaining 2/3 cup sugar, butter and vanilla and mix until blended. Stir in pecans and pour over pumpkin mixture. Bake 50-60 minutes or until filling is set around edge. Cool completely on a wire rack.
Sweet Potatoes:
2 large cans sweet potatoes
1/4 C. butter
1 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs
1/2 tsp. grated orange peel
1/2 tsp. salt
3/4 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 C. apple cider or 1 tsp. apple juice concentrate
1/4 C. water
Blend everything together and spread into glass baking pan.
Topping:
1/3 C. flour
1/3 C. turbinado sugar
1/2 C. chopped pecans
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 C. butter
Mix topping ingredients together and sprinkle evenly over sweet potatoes. Bake at 350 for 20-30 minutes. Sweet potatoes should be bubbling around the edges when you take it out of the oven.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Thanksgiving Advice
So apparently November has decided to actually, you know, be November. I walked out into the frosty morning air this morning and noticed how pretty much all the trees are completely barren now. Winter is coming. It's in the air.
For the first time this year I woke up and stayed in bed for 10 extra minutes solely because when I poked my face out from beneath the covers, my nose registered my room as really cold. My bedroom is the coldest room in the house because it is located over the downstairs neighbor's balcony. I don't really mind since I prefer it to be a little chilly when I sleep in the winter so I have an excuse to wear flannel PJ's and burrow down under flannel sheets and my down comforter. And maybe another blanket for good measure. It just makes it awfully hard to get out of bed early in the morning.
We're having Thanksgiving at Jason's with a few friends. It should be nice and low-key, unless the 80's trivia game we're planning to play gets completely out of hand. I'm making the turkey, stuffing, gravy and sweet potatoes. I called my mom a couple of days ago and got her excellent stuffing recipe and am making her sweet potatoes as well. The sweet potatoes have taken on a life of their own, at least among certain people who have tasted them. See, one of Jason's good friends wound up marrying a woman who was at the same Thanksgiving dinner as me the first year I was in Boston. I made the sweet potatoes for that dinner. For the next couple of years every time I saw her she raved about the sweet potatoes. Then when she found out Jason was dating me apparently she told him all about the sweet potatoes. Yes, they're that good.
Currently I have a 14.5 pound turkey thawing in my fridge. I've been looking up good ways to prep the turkey for the big day since I want it to be savory and wonderful. I bought a turkey bag to bake the turkey in, but don't know for sure if I'll use it. So I'm asking for tips. How do you prepare and cook your Thanksgiving turkey?
For the first time this year I woke up and stayed in bed for 10 extra minutes solely because when I poked my face out from beneath the covers, my nose registered my room as really cold. My bedroom is the coldest room in the house because it is located over the downstairs neighbor's balcony. I don't really mind since I prefer it to be a little chilly when I sleep in the winter so I have an excuse to wear flannel PJ's and burrow down under flannel sheets and my down comforter. And maybe another blanket for good measure. It just makes it awfully hard to get out of bed early in the morning.
We're having Thanksgiving at Jason's with a few friends. It should be nice and low-key, unless the 80's trivia game we're planning to play gets completely out of hand. I'm making the turkey, stuffing, gravy and sweet potatoes. I called my mom a couple of days ago and got her excellent stuffing recipe and am making her sweet potatoes as well. The sweet potatoes have taken on a life of their own, at least among certain people who have tasted them. See, one of Jason's good friends wound up marrying a woman who was at the same Thanksgiving dinner as me the first year I was in Boston. I made the sweet potatoes for that dinner. For the next couple of years every time I saw her she raved about the sweet potatoes. Then when she found out Jason was dating me apparently she told him all about the sweet potatoes. Yes, they're that good.
Currently I have a 14.5 pound turkey thawing in my fridge. I've been looking up good ways to prep the turkey for the big day since I want it to be savory and wonderful. I bought a turkey bag to bake the turkey in, but don't know for sure if I'll use it. So I'm asking for tips. How do you prepare and cook your Thanksgiving turkey?
Friday, November 17, 2006
Fire! Fire!
I don't know if you've noticed, but local newscasts always have a pet catastrophe. I think in Chicago it was shootings on the South Side. In DC it was traffic - Terror on the Beltway or something like that. When I lived in Boston before I noticed that house fires were the pet stories of the local news. Every day something like 5 houses just went up in flames and the local cameras were always right there, on the spot. Maybe it's because Boston has so many old, old houses with old, old wiring. But Chicago had old houses too. I just think it's what the Boston focus groups deemed interesting.
Even though every day multiple homes burst into flames apparently right in my backyard, I am amazed that house fires actually happen. I mean, I guess it makes sense if a water heater or space heater explodes and catches the carpet or some insulation. But if I were to, say, knock over a candle (of which I have many so that is a possibility), I would be shocked if it caught any piece of wood in the vicinity on fire.
I say this because, as I've mentioned before, Jason has a fireplace in his apartment in Providence. It rocks. I highly recommend fireplaces for all. However, there is a definite art to starting a fire. As we have discovered you can't just throw some flames at some wood and expect the wood to light and burn all cozy-like. Wood is very picky about lighting and might taunt you with a quick burst of flame, only to peter out into ash a moment later. Then it will laugh at you.
Luckily for Jason, I am a fire-starting savant. This is a previously unknown talent and I'm trying of some way to can market it. I can analyze a pile of smoldering wood, move some bits around, stick some kindling underneath, throw on some pinecones for extra explosive good measure and voila! We have fire! I have done this a couple of times now - the first time after Jason had spent the entire evening poking and rearranging and finally I got my chance when he drove another guest home. He came back and I pulled him excitedly into the room to show him my handiwork. I just hope that I'm not too much of a threat to his manhood.
Even though every day multiple homes burst into flames apparently right in my backyard, I am amazed that house fires actually happen. I mean, I guess it makes sense if a water heater or space heater explodes and catches the carpet or some insulation. But if I were to, say, knock over a candle (of which I have many so that is a possibility), I would be shocked if it caught any piece of wood in the vicinity on fire.
I say this because, as I've mentioned before, Jason has a fireplace in his apartment in Providence. It rocks. I highly recommend fireplaces for all. However, there is a definite art to starting a fire. As we have discovered you can't just throw some flames at some wood and expect the wood to light and burn all cozy-like. Wood is very picky about lighting and might taunt you with a quick burst of flame, only to peter out into ash a moment later. Then it will laugh at you.
Luckily for Jason, I am a fire-starting savant. This is a previously unknown talent and I'm trying of some way to can market it. I can analyze a pile of smoldering wood, move some bits around, stick some kindling underneath, throw on some pinecones for extra explosive good measure and voila! We have fire! I have done this a couple of times now - the first time after Jason had spent the entire evening poking and rearranging and finally I got my chance when he drove another guest home. He came back and I pulled him excitedly into the room to show him my handiwork. I just hope that I'm not too much of a threat to his manhood.
Dreamy
I'm having the Spanish final dream again. It pops up every few months or so. I feel like I should start keeping track and try to figure out what happens in my life that triggers the dream. All I have to say is, I am so relieved today that I'm not about to fail Spanish.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Just Feeling Kind of Tired of It All
So this is going to be a little bit of a rant. A railing against my metabolism. I am tired of being fat.
I have good taste, but I don’t fit into the clothes. It would be a dream of mine to walk into any retail store and be able to pluck any cute thing off the rack, try it on, and then be able to really choose what I want to buy versus buying what actually fits or what doesn’t make my bum look TOO huge.
It’s virtually impossible for me to buy a suit. As an attorney, that’s a little bit of a problem. I own one suit right now and thankfully am working in a place where casual is A-OK. I like suits, though. I think they’re cute and I wish I owned several. I have been trying for about 6 months to find a suit that fits me right, trying on nearly everything that looks slightly feasible in a myriad of stores. First of all, my hips/thighs/bum are significantly larger than my waist and pencil skirts are very difficult for me to fit into. Second, I am two different sizes on the top and the bottom, so that limits me to separates. Third, I’m in this weird limbo at my weight where the Misses jackets fit great, while the skirts do not, while the Womens skirts fit OK and I’m swimming in the jackets. Heaven forbid the Womens clothes are just bigger versions of the Misses stuff so I could buy the Misses jacket and the Womens skirt. They could never make it that easy.
I started a weight loss blog that I haven’t updated in awhile out of frustration and laziness both. It’s hard to feel consistently fired up, although maybe I’ll get back to it eventually.
I’m mad at my metabolism because I have been hovering around this 190-200 mark for a couple of years now. During the summer of 2005 after being very strict with my food intake and working out every day AND stressing about the Bar exam, I managed to get down to 185.
I’m mad at my metabolism because I don’t consider myself to be a huge eater. Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I don’t think I am (although if I am deluding myself, how would I know really...?) I have this strange fascination with shows about fat people losing weight and the methods they use, whether it be normal diet and exercise or some sort of surgical intervention. I listen to the interviews and realize I don’t eat like these people. I don’t have 3 Big Macs for a meal, I don’t eat huge piles of pasta at an Italian restaurant, I don’t Super Size it all, I don’t hide food around my house, I don’t eat a dozen donuts at a sitting. I have never eaten like that, except for maybe a few years ago when I was neck-deep in depression and ballooned up to 235. I haven’t been there in a long time, though. The idea of eating those huge amounts of greasy, fatty, sugary foods makes me feel a little ill.
If I allow myself to have dessert now and then or to have birthday cake to celebrate with friends or to have a couple of pieces of Halloween candy that someone brings into work (and I do mean a couple of pieces only), I will gain weight.
I know exactly what I need to do to lose weight. I need to carefully monitor every single thing I put in my mouth and the caloric content of each morsel. I need to write it all down in the ediets Nutrition tracker, which is my food counter of choice at the moment. I then need to exercise every day and factor in the calories burned so that I have a significant calorie deficit every day to lose 1-2 pounds a week, which is the average amount lost when you’re losing weight the healthy way. I cannot indulge ever because it appears on the scale and on my thighs. Even if I were to ever lose all the weight I want to, I will never really be able to indulge without it showing up. It's all lots of fun.
I need to make sure that I am exercising enough. It appears that “not enough” at this point equals walking a mile to and from work and 40-45 minutes on the elliptical 4-5 times a week, followed by a smattering of weight exercises. The scale continues to inch up and my clothes continue to feel tight.
I emailed Jason this morning about my frustration with this weight thing. I concluded that my caveman ancestors were really top notch at the whole fat storage thing. My people survived many famines.
I have good taste, but I don’t fit into the clothes. It would be a dream of mine to walk into any retail store and be able to pluck any cute thing off the rack, try it on, and then be able to really choose what I want to buy versus buying what actually fits or what doesn’t make my bum look TOO huge.
It’s virtually impossible for me to buy a suit. As an attorney, that’s a little bit of a problem. I own one suit right now and thankfully am working in a place where casual is A-OK. I like suits, though. I think they’re cute and I wish I owned several. I have been trying for about 6 months to find a suit that fits me right, trying on nearly everything that looks slightly feasible in a myriad of stores. First of all, my hips/thighs/bum are significantly larger than my waist and pencil skirts are very difficult for me to fit into. Second, I am two different sizes on the top and the bottom, so that limits me to separates. Third, I’m in this weird limbo at my weight where the Misses jackets fit great, while the skirts do not, while the Womens skirts fit OK and I’m swimming in the jackets. Heaven forbid the Womens clothes are just bigger versions of the Misses stuff so I could buy the Misses jacket and the Womens skirt. They could never make it that easy.
I started a weight loss blog that I haven’t updated in awhile out of frustration and laziness both. It’s hard to feel consistently fired up, although maybe I’ll get back to it eventually.
I’m mad at my metabolism because I have been hovering around this 190-200 mark for a couple of years now. During the summer of 2005 after being very strict with my food intake and working out every day AND stressing about the Bar exam, I managed to get down to 185.
I’m mad at my metabolism because I don’t consider myself to be a huge eater. Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I don’t think I am (although if I am deluding myself, how would I know really...?) I have this strange fascination with shows about fat people losing weight and the methods they use, whether it be normal diet and exercise or some sort of surgical intervention. I listen to the interviews and realize I don’t eat like these people. I don’t have 3 Big Macs for a meal, I don’t eat huge piles of pasta at an Italian restaurant, I don’t Super Size it all, I don’t hide food around my house, I don’t eat a dozen donuts at a sitting. I have never eaten like that, except for maybe a few years ago when I was neck-deep in depression and ballooned up to 235. I haven’t been there in a long time, though. The idea of eating those huge amounts of greasy, fatty, sugary foods makes me feel a little ill.
If I allow myself to have dessert now and then or to have birthday cake to celebrate with friends or to have a couple of pieces of Halloween candy that someone brings into work (and I do mean a couple of pieces only), I will gain weight.
I know exactly what I need to do to lose weight. I need to carefully monitor every single thing I put in my mouth and the caloric content of each morsel. I need to write it all down in the ediets Nutrition tracker, which is my food counter of choice at the moment. I then need to exercise every day and factor in the calories burned so that I have a significant calorie deficit every day to lose 1-2 pounds a week, which is the average amount lost when you’re losing weight the healthy way. I cannot indulge ever because it appears on the scale and on my thighs. Even if I were to ever lose all the weight I want to, I will never really be able to indulge without it showing up. It's all lots of fun.
I need to make sure that I am exercising enough. It appears that “not enough” at this point equals walking a mile to and from work and 40-45 minutes on the elliptical 4-5 times a week, followed by a smattering of weight exercises. The scale continues to inch up and my clothes continue to feel tight.
I emailed Jason this morning about my frustration with this weight thing. I concluded that my caveman ancestors were really top notch at the whole fat storage thing. My people survived many famines.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Good News, Bad News
No, let’s reverse that. Bad news first. Save the best for last is my motto.
Bad News:
- I didn’t get the job. I emailed my HR contact and asked what the deciding factors were. She said they wound up hiring someone with a lot of experience working as outside counsel to health care entities. That’s fair. It helps to know it wasn’t really because I’m a freakshow and they couldn’t stomach the idea of working 40 hours a week with the likes of me. But it’s the same Catch 22 I’m faced with repeatedly: I have no real experience, so I don’t get hired because they want someone with experience, meaning I never get any experience.
Good News:
- If I doubted it before, it turns out moving to Boston was the right decision. Remember how I left that project in DC where I was making insane amounts of money believing that the project had probably at least 5 more months left on it and I was debating if moving to Boston and not taking advantage of the money was really the smartest thing to do? Well, I heard from a friend from that project today that they closed down shop with no warning on Monday and the client moved all the business to co-counsel’s city. Wow. I would have been so incredibly ticked if I had stayed, let me tell you.
- I’m going to dust off my mad networking skillz and get back in the game tonight. I have been referred several times to a non-profit in the area that might allow me to get some more health care experience. I think one of my next steps will be contacting the person whose name I’ve been given and see if they can use any volunteer help. My job now has incredibly flexible hours so if the opportunity to volunteer is there I could actually take advantage of it.
- I have a gym racket going with a friend from work. We are putting off actually joining a gym for as long as possible and instead are working our way through two-week gym trial memberships. The one we’re on right now is 2 weeks for $20 (how they then justify $70 a month for membership plus a $149 initiation fee PLUS a $49 processing fee is beyond me) and after that we have two more gyms that have free 2 week trials. We figure we’ll do 2 weeks now, then indulge for Thanksgiving, then 2 weeks in December, allowing us to enjoy Christmas, and then 2 weeks after Christmas. Nice, huh? So if any of you know of any free/cheapo trials for gyms in the Downtown Crossing/Government Center/South Station areas, send them our way.
- I had some rockin’ French onion soup for lunch and just discovered that D’Anjou pears may just be my favorite ever.
As you can see, the good outweighs the bad. I’m trying to stay positive and hope that something else is just around the corner.
Bad News:
- I didn’t get the job. I emailed my HR contact and asked what the deciding factors were. She said they wound up hiring someone with a lot of experience working as outside counsel to health care entities. That’s fair. It helps to know it wasn’t really because I’m a freakshow and they couldn’t stomach the idea of working 40 hours a week with the likes of me. But it’s the same Catch 22 I’m faced with repeatedly: I have no real experience, so I don’t get hired because they want someone with experience, meaning I never get any experience.
Good News:
- If I doubted it before, it turns out moving to Boston was the right decision. Remember how I left that project in DC where I was making insane amounts of money believing that the project had probably at least 5 more months left on it and I was debating if moving to Boston and not taking advantage of the money was really the smartest thing to do? Well, I heard from a friend from that project today that they closed down shop with no warning on Monday and the client moved all the business to co-counsel’s city. Wow. I would have been so incredibly ticked if I had stayed, let me tell you.
- I’m going to dust off my mad networking skillz and get back in the game tonight. I have been referred several times to a non-profit in the area that might allow me to get some more health care experience. I think one of my next steps will be contacting the person whose name I’ve been given and see if they can use any volunteer help. My job now has incredibly flexible hours so if the opportunity to volunteer is there I could actually take advantage of it.
- I have a gym racket going with a friend from work. We are putting off actually joining a gym for as long as possible and instead are working our way through two-week gym trial memberships. The one we’re on right now is 2 weeks for $20 (how they then justify $70 a month for membership plus a $149 initiation fee PLUS a $49 processing fee is beyond me) and after that we have two more gyms that have free 2 week trials. We figure we’ll do 2 weeks now, then indulge for Thanksgiving, then 2 weeks in December, allowing us to enjoy Christmas, and then 2 weeks after Christmas. Nice, huh? So if any of you know of any free/cheapo trials for gyms in the Downtown Crossing/Government Center/South Station areas, send them our way.
- I had some rockin’ French onion soup for lunch and just discovered that D’Anjou pears may just be my favorite ever.
As you can see, the good outweighs the bad. I’m trying to stay positive and hope that something else is just around the corner.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Happy To Be Back
At church on Sunday a couple of people asked me how it felt to be back in Boston. I have had the chance to reflect on this a lot over the last few weeks since it seems to be a common question. I am kind of surprised that my standard answer is, it’s really great to be back.
By the end of Summer 2005 I was so ready to be gone from Boston and to be in DC. After a little more than a year in DC I'm glad I'm back in Boston. Not that I didn’t like DC, but I never really got settled in there. The whole time I was there I felt a tug to come back here so I never immersed myself in all that DC had to offer. As I was getting ready to leave I felt sad thinking about leaving the monuments, the museums, the parks, and all of the beauty surrounding me in Virginia. I realized that I hadn’t really experienced everything about the city; I hadn’t even whole-heartedly looked for the health care policy job that inspired me to move down there. I think I would possibly like to go back to DC again someday.
However, since I moved to Boston I haven’t felt any tugs back to DC. I miss the few good friends I made there, but they’re not really all that far away. We just can’t hang out on some random night, but, frankly, with my work schedule in DC, I always had to plan hanging out in advance anyway.
I know that I moved back to Boston at the best possible time. October in New England is lovely and sepia-tinted. Growing up in Arizona, I used to wish longingly for real seasons, real trees and flowers, real snow, real Autumn leaves. The Sonoran Desert, where Tucson is located, is beautiful in its own way, but it is not a way that speaks to my soul like the smell of fresh fertile earth and woodsiness after a rain.
My parents and I used to have a Christmas in July movie marathon in our highly air-conditioned family room when we just couldn’t stand the idea that it was 115 degrees outside anymore. We tried to make at least one excursion each summer up to Summerhaven on Mount Lemmon for chili at the ski lodge and temperatures that were 30 degrees cooler.
My first year of college I went to school in Vermont and while I didn’t end up staying at the school because the school and I did not mesh, I loved Vermont. I took rolls and rolls of pictures, documenting every little seasonal change. I found the smallest things absolutely remarkable. Did you know that when a leaf falls on the sidewalk and then it rains, the leaf leaves an imprint on the sidewalk? I had no idea until I was walking to one of my classes and saw a whole row of leaf prints on the sidewalk in front of me. In the Spring I drove everyone crazy asking what every single tree and flower was called. They looked at me as if I was insane, not realizing that while I can identify a cholla or a saguaro or a prickly pear with no problem, tulips and daffodils were strange and exotic to me. Lilacs were my greatest discovery that Spring.
So I suppose part of my contentment here is that I moved back at my favorite time of year and got to revel in the Autumn.
Then there are the people. One of my biggest complaints with Boston before I moved was the surly attitude of many of its inhabitants and this sort of air of entitlement that seemed to flow throughout the city. I’m just not noticing it so much this time around. I think there are a couple of reasons for this. For one, I’m not driving much anymore. I take the T to work and other than the 20 minutes or so it takes me to get out of Cambridge, the drive down to Providence is a breeze. I used to drive a lot to get to school and while a Boston pedestrian may not be necessarily surly, a Boston driver ALWAYS is. Particularly on this fun rotary that was on the way to my law school, which we referred to as The Circle of Death.
Two, I don’t know if I’ve proven myself by virtue of the fact that I moved away from Boston and then moved back, but I find myself running into a lot of native Bostonians who are jovial and happy to chat about most anything. With their thick accents they tell me where to go to eat and who will give me the best deals on various things. New Englanders have this reputation of being aloof until they really get to know you. Maybe they’ve decided I’m ok since I voluntarily moved back to Boston.
Then of course there’s Jason. It’s fun to be able to be a semi-normal couple – I say “semi” since we are still living an hour drive away from each other. But that’s much easier than an hour flight. I’m enjoying having an activity partner and our weekends have been jam-packed. We’re having a lot of fun.
Even though I still haven’t heard on the job and I don’t know where my career is going and I’m doing the same type of boring work I was in DC, I’m happy to be here. I love stepping out into the crisp air and feeling the bustle of the city around me. It’s good to be here.
By the end of Summer 2005 I was so ready to be gone from Boston and to be in DC. After a little more than a year in DC I'm glad I'm back in Boston. Not that I didn’t like DC, but I never really got settled in there. The whole time I was there I felt a tug to come back here so I never immersed myself in all that DC had to offer. As I was getting ready to leave I felt sad thinking about leaving the monuments, the museums, the parks, and all of the beauty surrounding me in Virginia. I realized that I hadn’t really experienced everything about the city; I hadn’t even whole-heartedly looked for the health care policy job that inspired me to move down there. I think I would possibly like to go back to DC again someday.
However, since I moved to Boston I haven’t felt any tugs back to DC. I miss the few good friends I made there, but they’re not really all that far away. We just can’t hang out on some random night, but, frankly, with my work schedule in DC, I always had to plan hanging out in advance anyway.
I know that I moved back to Boston at the best possible time. October in New England is lovely and sepia-tinted. Growing up in Arizona, I used to wish longingly for real seasons, real trees and flowers, real snow, real Autumn leaves. The Sonoran Desert, where Tucson is located, is beautiful in its own way, but it is not a way that speaks to my soul like the smell of fresh fertile earth and woodsiness after a rain.
My parents and I used to have a Christmas in July movie marathon in our highly air-conditioned family room when we just couldn’t stand the idea that it was 115 degrees outside anymore. We tried to make at least one excursion each summer up to Summerhaven on Mount Lemmon for chili at the ski lodge and temperatures that were 30 degrees cooler.
My first year of college I went to school in Vermont and while I didn’t end up staying at the school because the school and I did not mesh, I loved Vermont. I took rolls and rolls of pictures, documenting every little seasonal change. I found the smallest things absolutely remarkable. Did you know that when a leaf falls on the sidewalk and then it rains, the leaf leaves an imprint on the sidewalk? I had no idea until I was walking to one of my classes and saw a whole row of leaf prints on the sidewalk in front of me. In the Spring I drove everyone crazy asking what every single tree and flower was called. They looked at me as if I was insane, not realizing that while I can identify a cholla or a saguaro or a prickly pear with no problem, tulips and daffodils were strange and exotic to me. Lilacs were my greatest discovery that Spring.
So I suppose part of my contentment here is that I moved back at my favorite time of year and got to revel in the Autumn.
Then there are the people. One of my biggest complaints with Boston before I moved was the surly attitude of many of its inhabitants and this sort of air of entitlement that seemed to flow throughout the city. I’m just not noticing it so much this time around. I think there are a couple of reasons for this. For one, I’m not driving much anymore. I take the T to work and other than the 20 minutes or so it takes me to get out of Cambridge, the drive down to Providence is a breeze. I used to drive a lot to get to school and while a Boston pedestrian may not be necessarily surly, a Boston driver ALWAYS is. Particularly on this fun rotary that was on the way to my law school, which we referred to as The Circle of Death.
Two, I don’t know if I’ve proven myself by virtue of the fact that I moved away from Boston and then moved back, but I find myself running into a lot of native Bostonians who are jovial and happy to chat about most anything. With their thick accents they tell me where to go to eat and who will give me the best deals on various things. New Englanders have this reputation of being aloof until they really get to know you. Maybe they’ve decided I’m ok since I voluntarily moved back to Boston.
Then of course there’s Jason. It’s fun to be able to be a semi-normal couple – I say “semi” since we are still living an hour drive away from each other. But that’s much easier than an hour flight. I’m enjoying having an activity partner and our weekends have been jam-packed. We’re having a lot of fun.
Even though I still haven’t heard on the job and I don’t know where my career is going and I’m doing the same type of boring work I was in DC, I’m happy to be here. I love stepping out into the crisp air and feeling the bustle of the city around me. It’s good to be here.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Consumer Alert: Ford Focus Ignition
To: Ford Management
From: A Disgruntled Focus Owner
My family has been loyal Ford owners for some time, despite all those clever little sayings like "Found On the Road Dead." My early years were spent riding around in a big red LTD, which was then traded in for a Taurus wagon. The next year a teensy little Festiva was added to our family and I drove it all through high school and college and finally sold it when I graduated. My mom traded in the Taurus for an Escort and when my parents had to buy a car after my dad got a job in the Chicago suburbs they headed right to the Ford dealership.
Several years ago I noticed the Focus on the road and thought it was cute. Overall it seemed to get ok ratings and when it came time for me to buy a car I found I could get a relatively lightly used Focus for a lot less than a Corolla or Jetta. I knew those were better made cars, of course, but I could afford the Focus, the Focus was cute, and my family had always gone with the Fords.
Yesterday morning I got in my car, stuck the key in the ignition, and turned. Only the key didn't turn. It was stuck fast. I jiggled the steering wheel, took the key out and put it in again, tapped the key, turned the key over, rapped on the steering column a bit. Nothing. The key just would not turn in the ignition. So after putting a lot of money into my car a couple of months ago, I now have to shell out $200-$300 more to fix this ignition thing.
And you know, I could handle it if it was just one of those things that sometimes goes wrong with cars in general. Like a couple of months ago when a casing on my radiator sprung a leak. Yeah, it happens. It's annoying, and I wish it wouldn't happen, but it does.
However, after looking around on the internet here, here, here, here, oh, and here, I discovered that this isn't just some random little oopsie needing to be repaired. Hundreds of people have had these problems with Focuses (or Foci, if you will) since they started being sold. This is a problem endemic to the Focus, and for those poor people who have had the dealer replace the part, or who have had a mechanic order the part from the manufacturer, it continues to be a problem. I read about one person who between 2000 and 2004 had the same part replaced 3 times. It's sort of a big problem when your customers physically cannot start their cars.
Thank goodness I have the internet as a resource and can see that not only is this a common problem, but a locksmith can fix it for substantially less than a dealership or a mechanic. So last night the locksmith came and took a look at my car, and we got to talking.* He confirmed what I had already read: they see a lot of Focuses with this exact problem. After hearing that for myself, I know that I will be filling out this complaint form, signing this petition, and I'm really bummed out that I can't get involved with the class action in California.
So, Mr. Ford, if you're wondering why your company is failing and why you're not selling many cars and having to let people go, I think I may have a couple of clues for you. First and foremost, you need to make more gas-efficient vehicles that appeal to the modern American consumer. But second, and equally important, you need to not tick off your loyal consumer base. My car, Bunny, has been a good friend for these past 2 1/2 years, but I now feel a teensy bit of betrayal, knowing that this problem was there all along, lurking, waiting to pounce. And you knew, Ford, you knew. You should have issued a recall years ago, but instead you decided it wasn't worth it for you. Well, your company is still failing despite (or maybe because of) your cheap tactics, and I will think very seriously in the future about whether or not I want to even consider buying a Ford again. That's a 30-year rider and driver of Fords talking. Take note.
* Unfortunately the guy who came last night couldn't fix it because the cylinder has to be replaced completely, but I will be making an appointment for the guy who can fix it to come by tonight and then hopefully it will be all fixed.
From: A Disgruntled Focus Owner
My family has been loyal Ford owners for some time, despite all those clever little sayings like "Found On the Road Dead." My early years were spent riding around in a big red LTD, which was then traded in for a Taurus wagon. The next year a teensy little Festiva was added to our family and I drove it all through high school and college and finally sold it when I graduated. My mom traded in the Taurus for an Escort and when my parents had to buy a car after my dad got a job in the Chicago suburbs they headed right to the Ford dealership.
Several years ago I noticed the Focus on the road and thought it was cute. Overall it seemed to get ok ratings and when it came time for me to buy a car I found I could get a relatively lightly used Focus for a lot less than a Corolla or Jetta. I knew those were better made cars, of course, but I could afford the Focus, the Focus was cute, and my family had always gone with the Fords.
Yesterday morning I got in my car, stuck the key in the ignition, and turned. Only the key didn't turn. It was stuck fast. I jiggled the steering wheel, took the key out and put it in again, tapped the key, turned the key over, rapped on the steering column a bit. Nothing. The key just would not turn in the ignition. So after putting a lot of money into my car a couple of months ago, I now have to shell out $200-$300 more to fix this ignition thing.
And you know, I could handle it if it was just one of those things that sometimes goes wrong with cars in general. Like a couple of months ago when a casing on my radiator sprung a leak. Yeah, it happens. It's annoying, and I wish it wouldn't happen, but it does.
However, after looking around on the internet here, here, here, here, oh, and here, I discovered that this isn't just some random little oopsie needing to be repaired. Hundreds of people have had these problems with Focuses (or Foci, if you will) since they started being sold. This is a problem endemic to the Focus, and for those poor people who have had the dealer replace the part, or who have had a mechanic order the part from the manufacturer, it continues to be a problem. I read about one person who between 2000 and 2004 had the same part replaced 3 times. It's sort of a big problem when your customers physically cannot start their cars.
Thank goodness I have the internet as a resource and can see that not only is this a common problem, but a locksmith can fix it for substantially less than a dealership or a mechanic. So last night the locksmith came and took a look at my car, and we got to talking.* He confirmed what I had already read: they see a lot of Focuses with this exact problem. After hearing that for myself, I know that I will be filling out this complaint form, signing this petition, and I'm really bummed out that I can't get involved with the class action in California.
So, Mr. Ford, if you're wondering why your company is failing and why you're not selling many cars and having to let people go, I think I may have a couple of clues for you. First and foremost, you need to make more gas-efficient vehicles that appeal to the modern American consumer. But second, and equally important, you need to not tick off your loyal consumer base. My car, Bunny, has been a good friend for these past 2 1/2 years, but I now feel a teensy bit of betrayal, knowing that this problem was there all along, lurking, waiting to pounce. And you knew, Ford, you knew. You should have issued a recall years ago, but instead you decided it wasn't worth it for you. Well, your company is still failing despite (or maybe because of) your cheap tactics, and I will think very seriously in the future about whether or not I want to even consider buying a Ford again. That's a 30-year rider and driver of Fords talking. Take note.
* Unfortunately the guy who came last night couldn't fix it because the cylinder has to be replaced completely, but I will be making an appointment for the guy who can fix it to come by tonight and then hopefully it will be all fixed.
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