so the office i work in is predominantly professional women. we’re talking social workers, managers, psychologists, speech therapists, etc. all educated, well groomed, well dressed women.

and yet, when i went into the women’s restroom today, and entered the toilet stall…

…there, on the toilet, *behind* the lid hinge, where the porcelain abuts the wall…

…was a small, unmistakeable, perfectly formed turd.

which means one of those educated, well groomed, professional women… is not properly toilet trained.

i just had to tell someone.

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i’ve been laughing all day at the dire weather warnings over a predicted 4 cm of snow (2 cm in london). headlines in yesterdays evening papers screamed about the “travel chaos” that would ensue, warning that by rush hour this evening the nation would be held hostage in the grip of a few snowflakes. everyone eagerly anticipated a snow day on friday.

and what has materialised? almost less than nothing. as usual, the scottish highlands got a little. a few other northern areas got “drifts of up to 4 cm”.

newsflash: 4 cm is not, by any stretch of the wildfire imagination, a “drift”.

for purposes of comparison, boston got more than 2 feet of snow in december alone.

sometimes life in london is sublimely absurd.

the gris gris – winter weather

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“A while back, Dick, Barry and I agreed that what really matters is *WHAT* you like, not what you *ARE* like. Books, records, films – these things matter! Call me shallow, it’s the fucking truth.”

High Fidelity

in something slightly-resembling-a-resolution-but-not-really, because-i-don’t-do-resolutions, i want to spend less time in front of the computer with glazed eyes and more time reading. somehow i’ve gotten into the habit of only really reading just before bed (too crowded on the train, too busy during lunch hour, too addicted to the internet in the evening) … which means that i am currently reading about 5 pages a night at midnight before my eyelids droop. it’s taking me ages to get through books that i actually enjoy, and that makes me sad. also, i have a way of forgetting about books and movies, even ones that i’ve really loved – it’s some bizarre form of amnesia that i’ve never been able to explain, but it’s more than a little embarrassing when i find myself saying “oooh! i loved that book! remember when…ummmm….”

so in an effort to combat the slide into cultural oblivion and refresh my failing memory, i’m stealing a page from nicole’s book and keeping a list (i’m putting the page link up there on the menu bar) of all the books and movies i read and see this year. yesterday got off to a kick-ass start with 3 movies (one light, one medium, one heavy) and i’m a good chunk of the way into my latest book.

hopefully a good omen of things to come in 2008.

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ahhh, how i miss snow. big, white piles of pillowsoft snow. snow that slows down the earth’s spin, dampens down the volume, fills in the nooks with lofty frozen batting, smooths over the rough edges, makes the world clean again. there’s a sweet smell to the air when it snows like that – a lightness that gets up inside your nostrils and fills your lungs. a brightness that illuminates the sky like moonglow, bouncing off the underside of the low clouds. snow that drifts through the air like glittering feathers, coating the pavement, the lampposts, the brims of hats with a thick icing of fluff. snow that puts life on pause, creates calm in a storm, and merits wonder and awe.

boston got snow yesterday. i have snow envy.

sambassadeur – ice & snow

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this weekend has been an exercise in futility. apparently over the years, i have collected quite a lot of photos. almost a couple thousand. and in order to put those all neatly on their own subdomain, i have to re-organise them all (my previous method of assembling them was haphazard at best) and re-upload them all. add to that mix a server connection which has picked this weekend to freak out, and you have a lot of hair-tearing.

in any case, almost all of them are back up – though i’m still working on renaming, sorting and captioning them all. there was some angst about putting a lot of the crappy older photos back up (some of them are truly cringeworthy)… but they’re part of the journey i’ve taken since starting this blog. thank goodness things have improved somewhat since the days way back when i was using a 2MP camera… and i’ve learned a little something about photography along the way.

if you feel like checking them out, clicking the photographia tab at the top will take you there. bear in mind that they’re still unlabelled, unordered, and the thumbnails are wacky. but at least they’re all in one place.

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there are a few big projects underway this weekend at jen’s den. i’m in the process of transfering all my photos, new and old, over to their own subdomain (which i’ve been doing in a half-assed way up til now – sloppy, sloppy, sloppy), doing an upgrade of my photo gallery software, and upgrading wordpress.

doing all this on my own is more than a little nervewracking, because i know just enough to be dangerous, but not enough to fix things if i really screw them up (except for the obvious de-install, and re-install the backup files). and there’s always something – some bizarre error message will pop up, or formatting goes haywire, and i have a panic attack. my heart starts racing while i try desperately to identify and rectify the problem, madly searching support forums and guidance docs, all the while cursing my need to “fuck with that which ain’t broke”. i struggle through eventually, and always swear i’ll never touch a php file again.

the wonderful part about hosting my own blog is that i can do whatever i want with it. the downside is that i am flying by the seat of my pants, learning from my mistakes as i go along, and often getting amateurish results.

i *am* learning though. it’s only when i find myself helping others out, or explaining how to do certain things that i realise just how much i have learned over the past few years. and i’m really pleased about that – i’ll never be a web designer, but i may one day be a halfway competent web mistress. that’s more than i ever expected.

still, there are some days when i would pay any amount of money to just have someone come fix it. i have a feeling saturday or sunday may be one of those days.

(so please excuse any weirdness you may encounter over the weekend and ignore the dust!)

jamiroquai – virtual insanity

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it’s december. it’s the month when the incursion of darkness reaches oppressive fullness, before finally, mercifully, beginning its slow retreat into light. the month when the totality of the previous 364 days is totted up, weighed and measured against the frayed dreams of a previous year, before ticking over a fresh new page of hope. it’s the month when old things die and new things are born into being. it’s the month when i shed one number and turn to meet the next – last year’s version is no more and the new me is not, in fact, newer, but rather older.

new into old into new is an improbably miraculous sort of alchemy – and yet it happens every year.

but like an unexpected bloom in winter, it never fails to take my breath away.

loney, dear – warm, dark, comforting night

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winter

so this is the way it usually happens – as i meander through my days, observing, experiencing, pondering, inevitably something springs to the front of my mind: “that would make a good blog post”.

and so i file it away, a little breadcrumb left on the expanse of forest floor. at some later point, i sit down in front of my computer, fingers poised in anticipation, wrists resting, spine aligned, and i cast my memory back to try to find that breadcrumb, to tease it out, turn it into a substantial meal, something i can get my teeth into. i knead it through the fingertips, add bits here and there, roll it around on the tongue. eventually, finally, hopefully, lovingly producing something satisfying.

except when i go back in search of that crumb only to get lost on the way, or find it disappeared, or discover a pebble instead of bread. alone in the empty woods with only the whistle of the wind through the dark shadows of the trees.

this is my longwinded way of saying i have nothing of substance to blog about today.

the clash – lost in the supermarket

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the other day at thanksgiving dinner, the conversation turned to the “laminated list”.

you know the “laminated list”. from the friends wiki:

The show also popularized the idea of the “laminated list”, a list of celebrities that a person’s partner will permit them to sleep with if they were to ever meet them. In “The One with Frank Jr.” the characters exchange “lists” verbally, while Ross creates a physical list and laminates it, making his choices permanent.

and then i read this post, which reminded me of it. so, without further ado, i will answer the burning question: who’s on my laminated list?

1. john cusack

he’s quirky and funny and warm and self-effacing and just seems very genuine. plus, having been like 16 when “say anything” came out didn’t hurt. who can resist a vulnerable man with a boom box? my crush for him has continued to grow throughout the years with his offbeat movie roles and understated stardom.

2. dave grohl

i *may* have mention my love for him here before. the man is a modern day rock god, but a goofy, endearing one. the day i almost got his sweat on me remains one of the highlights of my fandom.

3. brad pitt

pedestrian choice, i know. but two words: “fight club”. also, at some point, he became a pretty darn good actor. and i was brainwashed with repeated viewings of mr. and mrs. smith.

okay, here come the strange ones…

4. andre 3000

he’s soooo freaky-deaky, but he’s completely confident in his uniqueness – whether he’s rocking jeans or a wildly floral three piece suit or a blond wig and green-fringed trousers. and he’s a musical genius with more than a hint of jimi hendrix.

5. ewan mcgregor

i’ve never been a fan of his movies… but i love watching him on television. his personality and humour really make me all melty inside, and he wears a kilt for crying out loud.

and the girl crushes…

gwen stefani

she’s got style, a ridiculously successful career, red lips and a washboard stomach. but i still liked it best when she had pink hair.

drew barrymore

she’s a little bit ditzy, she’s got that wildchild past… there’s just something about her.

and finally, the obligatory angelina jolie

let’s face it, there’s not a laminated list she’s *not* on. and i was brainwashed with repeated viewings of mr. and mrs. smith.

ok go – you’re so damn hot

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as someone who tends to go into hibernation mode as the temperature drops, yesterday was a pretty busy day for me.

the march went well – we started in trafalgar square and headed straight down tottenham court road. amusing to see all the tourists taking photos of the demonstration, as if it was another london attraction. there was even a bit of an impromptu sit-in in front of a strip club we passed on the route – good to see some passion amongst the next generation of younger women.

a few photos

after the march, i headed over to the always delightful nicole’s house for her thanksgiving get together – which quickly descended into drunken boardgame madness, as such gatherings are wont to do

more amusingly tipsy photos here

even more activity today as i head off for an afternoon sunday brunch with friends. all this is interaction is a real shock to the system! more later today…

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it’s sunday morning and i’ve awoken late, reluctantly. begrudgingly peeling open my eyes, i see the weather outside matches my mood perfectly: grey and cold, with a biting wind. i’d planned on going for a run, but mentally scupper that idea before my feet even emerge from the covers, callously dislodging the sleeping cat . i can’t be arsed.

there’s been something under my skin the past few days. i’ve been walking around edgy and permanently dissatisfied, uncharacteristically sullen. j and i grumping at each other, the apartment far too small to contain my crankiness without bleeding over. quick, cutting remarks slipping carelessly from my lips, with little remorse. i’ve not been very nice.

like anyone, i’m prone to the occasional bout of grouchiness – but i can’t shake it, this churlish miasma enveloping me in its little grey cloud of bad attitude. and like everything else these days, it’s annoying the piss out of me.

samiam – bad day

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so off to the dentist i dutifully went to get my tooth filled.

there’s the well worn stereotype about british teeth – which, to be brutally honest, does hold more than a kernel of truth. in comparison to everywhere else i’ve lived, people around these parts have some jacked up teeth. now i know americans probably place far too much emphasis on a perfect, pearly white appearance (i mean, as long as they’re *healthy*, it shouldn’t matter how they look), but even people on television (who presumably make enough money to at least get their choppers straightened), don’t seem the least bit bothered in displaying a wonky yellowed grin.

so i was understandably a bit apprehensive the first time i went to the dental surgery after moving here. i admit having been completely spoiled in the past, with a family dentist whom i’d seen since i first had teeth, and who also happened to be fantastic at his job – great work, great manner, and i trusted him implicitly with no nervousness whatsoever. as a kid, there was the bubble gum flavoured toothpaste, a toy from the chest, and a new toothbrush and pink disclosing tablets to go home with. as an adult, i used to love going in for cleanings with the hygenist, and coming out running my tongue along cool, smooth, polished teeth that felt like new. i even went to see him during the 8 years i lived in nyc, timing my appointments to coincide with visits home. ah, dr. chessler was great – he died a few years ago from lung cancer, and i truly felt a pang of sadness. i still remember how he smelled faintly of pipe smoke, and i can still recall his warm, gravelly voice, giving fatherly advice about my tongue ring, (yet not chiding me when i cracked a tooth on it), asking about my family by name, encouraging me during the difficult college years. i was really lucky to have him.

and, knowing that no other dentist could ever live up to the legacy of dr. chessler, my expectations are modest. with that in mind, my dentist surgery here seems… fine. clean, competent, nothing i could complain about. but they just don’t seem as thorough or careful or caring about things. there isn’t that friendliness or extra time to double check things. no gentle reminders to floss more often, no praise for having quit smoking. they do perfectly servicable, fine work – but they’re no dr. chessler.

wherever you are melvin s. chessler, dmd extraordinaire, i hope you know you were appreciated. and you are missed.

jets to brazil – Your X-Rays Have Just Come Back From the Lab and We Think We Know What Your Problem is

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i went to the dentist last night – i’ve had a toothache for a few weeks, but was terrified to go because the last time i went, i had a filling done which apparently went quite deep. in fact, the dentist said that she couldn’t drill any deeper without hitting nerves, so if the decay came back, i’d need a root canal. i was afraid that this was, in fact, what was causing my toothache.

the good news? i don’t need a root canal, that tooth is fine.

the bad news is that I now have a cavity in the tooth right next to it.

i cursed the paper thin tooth enamel that i inherited from my mother… and celebrated the “no root canal” news by polishing off the box of candy my sister sent.

mary lou lord – sugar sugar

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i was going through a bunch of photos from our trip last year. i can’t believe it’s been more than a year now since we’ve been back. in a way it feels like yesterday. in a way it feels like ages ago.

i wanted so desperately to hang on to that relaxed, open-armed, open-hearted girl – the one with the wide eyes and insatiable thirst for adventure. in spite of all my best intentions, she’s been lost, ground down, washed out.

the less i have to hold on to, the more it feels like the whole thing was a dream – and the photos are the only thing i have left.

jack johnson – breakdown

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this has been the work week that just will not quit. my work environment is so crazy-making that i have had to keep myself from saying a few very choice, very unprofessional, very unwise things at several points these past few days. my back is in knots and my tongue is bitten clean through. and it’s only wednesday.

i am usually very good about not “bringing work home” – in my past life as a care management supervisor, i had to learn to block stuff out of my head when i walked out the door, otherwise it was the kind of job you could stress about 24/7. and i realise i am once again breaking one of my cardinal blogging rules, (namely not blogging about my workplace), which in and of itself is rather ill-advised.

i think i’ve just been so burned out and so overburdened and so frustrated for so long now, that it’s all coming to a head. i no longer care about being diplomatic. i no longer care if i get sacked. and i no longer care if anyone knows that i no longer care. we are currently going through a mini-restructuring in my department, and i have been fervently praying to be made redundant – that’s how bad it is.

i try not to burden j or my friends with my moaning – after all, it’s a bit unfair considering the only person with the power to change my situation is me. if i feel trapped and run into the ground and saddled with enough anxiety to give me a stomach ulcer the size of a moon crater… well, then, i need to do something about that. but j walked through the door and i just unloaded on him – i couldn’t help myself. i needed to get it out someplace safe, with someone who can listen and make sympathetic noises and tell me it will be okay. someone i can depend on to be there if i lose my cool and walk out in resignation. my safety net, my sanity net. this is one of the things i love most about j – he’s always in my corner.

so i’m home now. i’ve got a bottle of wine and a promise of a back rub and a warm cat on my lap – all is right with the world. for right now.

tomorrow’s another day.

eta: i’m also very cross now because my “on demand” date with ewan macgregor and charlie boorman is postponed. apparently you need 8 different levels of security clearance to use the bloody “on demand” function and virgin media (as usual) cannot manage to get even the simplest thing right. activating our pin will require “second level support”, for which we will need to wait 24-48 hours. grrrrrrrrrrrr.

hey mercedes – quit

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I spent all day cleaning the house – I mean scouring, scrubbing, dusting, hoovering, mopping, washing. Every nook and every cranny is clean enough to eat out of. Our flat is pretty small, but it hadn’t had a deep clean in a while, so this took some effort.

After it was all done, I “treated” myself to a bath. The problem being that, while I try to convince myself that I enjoy baths, I actually don’t. In a bath-obsessed country like England, admitting this amounts to heresy.

There are a lot of reasons I don’t enjoy baths, the first of which is that the tub needs to be scrubbed both before and after a bath, thereby negating any supposed relaxing effects. There is nothing more disgusting than soaking in the tub only to see an unfamiliar stray hair float by. Thus, the tub must be pristine before bathing.

Secondly, drawing a bath is an art form that I’ve never really mastered. Getting the water the perfect temperature, with just the right amount of bubbles seems to be neigh on impossible for me. And a tub just takes sooooo long to fill. Then I hop in, and it’s either too warm, so my face gets all sweaty and sticky, or it’s too cold and I’m shivering before I can even get out.

Thirdly, there’s a definite order to the ablutions which I am always forgetting. If the hair needs washing, this must be done *first* before anything else. Instead, I’m forever sliding around trying to shave my legs, pumice my feet, loofah the elbows… only to then be faced with washing my hair in the cloudy scum of soap, stubble, and dead skin.

Fourthly, what exactly are you supposed to *do* in a bath? Reading material only gets wet. There are no outlets in the bathrooms in the UK, so no radio can be plugged in. Lying around is meant to feel luxurious I suppose, but I can’t help being bored, hot, and aware of stewing in my own filth. (Though I did manage to come up with the idea for this blog post whilst waterlogged in the tub.)

I think from now on I’ll stick to showers.

no doubt – bathwater

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nablopomo is upon us. it’s the internet counterpart to nanowrimo, and since i don’t write novels but i *do* blog, i signed up for it in a fit of enthusiasm a few weeks ago. probably when i was exhausted and sleep deprived.

in a way, it seems a bit redundant, since i do usually blog 5 days a week anyway – i guess i’m hoping to stretch my writing chops, move outside my comfort zone a bit, while trying not to rely on “cheater” posts about the cat. i’ve got a pool of questions that i may resort to in order to get the creative juices flowing. but overall i’m hoping to make this a meaningful experience, not simply a rote exercise.

so it should be simple: blog every day for the 30 days of november.

we’ll see how it goes!

orson – bright idea

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i’m run down. physically exhausted, emotionally frayed. i am wound up over baseball, nervous about my race, anxious about future plans. walking to the station this morning i was hit with an intense, visceral yearning for new york that brought a lump to my throat. sitting at my desk, i had to supress the urge to run screaming in frustration. hunched over my computer at home, i am dozing off with my eyes open.

i am sleep deprived and overwrought in the extreme, running on the fumes of umpteen cans of red bull and insane amounts of sugar, and i’m just holding on tight for sunday – my day of rest.

i’m from barcelona – oversleeping

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you know you’re tired when…

you get up in the morning and put your thong underwear on *sideways*.

sadly, this is not even the first time this has happened to me. i once wore it that way for nearly half a day.

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it’s amazing what a difference a few weeks makes. four weeks ago when i got back from holiday in the states, i felt rested and mellow, with a fresh sprinkling of freckles.

but now. nights are officially longer than days, the sun is going into hibernation and i can feel its energy draining from me like the slow leaching of an essential nutrient. it’s a struggle against the forcefield that is the duvet every morning, and i wake up heavy-lidded and puffy-eyed. bleak, watery light comes up just as i’m getting ready for work, and is nearly faded as i leave the office to trudge underground. raw, clammy days invade the weeks. shades of grey pervade everything.

shadows fall, darkness descends.

loney, dear – warm, dark, comforting night

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so i’ve been tagged again, and i’m supposed to tell you seven things about myself. it’s rainy and dreary and i’ve been stuck in the house most of the day, so here goes:

1. i have nine tattoos. i got my first tattoo a few weeks after i headed off to university at the age of 17, 17 years ago. i got my most recent tattoo last year on our worldtour. each one is deeply symbolic, but i don’t think i’ve ever told anyone what they all mean. for a while, it used to piss me off that everyone and their brother started getting tattoos – as if that somehow made mine less special, when i had invested so much of my identity in them. then i realised i was being ridiculous and got over myself.

2. i love to bake. cakes, cookies, breads and biscuits. it reminds me of snowy winter days when my mother would make batches of cookies with all of us kids, cozywarm in the kitchen with the wood-burning stove glowing and the smell of cinnamon in the air. i have several treasured recipes passed down from grandparents and great-grandparents. it kills me that i’ve never really been able to get my baking mojo going here in the u.k. – apparently my skills don’t convert well into metric.

3. i love cats – but at heart, i am a dog person.

4. i love being *on* the ocean and *near* the ocean, but i hate being *in* the ocean. i had recurrent nightmares about sharks as a kid, and didn’t watch “jaws” until i was an adult. even now, if i’ve been watching an oceanic nature special, i will have a hard time falling asleep.

5. i am a big foot snob – my toes are always manicured, my heels smooth. i own a fantastic pair of italian designer hot pink patent leather stilletto sandals, and have been waiting for the perfect occasion to wear them out. i do not, however, generally go anywhere that would merit wearing such spectacular shoes. my pink shoes are more aspirational than practical.

6. i turn 35 in just a few weeks time. eeeep!

7. i am currently gearing up for the “temperature wars” that take place every winter in our household. i was gifted with my mother’s reptilian circulation, whereas jonno sits around in t-shirts on even below-freezing days. it makes for a constant struggle – j opening windows for “fresh air” every chance he gets, me bundled in layers of jumpers and cranking the heaters to their maximum setting. we seriously need an independent arbitrator up in this joint, and it’s only october.

hey mercedes – eleven to your seven

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