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Recent News... Just for Pope Gregory... |
2002-01-10 - 9:47 a.m. All about nothing in particular Having nothing particular to do at work is a wonderful and terrible thing. It's wonderful because I really, really need some downtime. It's terrible, because dragging yourself to work for no purpose is tough - especially for people with a sleep deficit who are thinking longingly of their comfy bed. I know I'm tired because went straight home from Twelfth Night feast, ate a bowl of cereal to fill in the cracks left from feast, and slept ten hours. Roland slept thirteen. I spent late Sunday morning watching Inherit the Wind while he dozed.
When he stumbled downstairs sometimes after twelve, the sweet man was all concerned that we wouldn't have time to get to the Love and Virtue exhibit on it's final day at the National Gallery. He knew I *really* wanted to go. Kind husband chauffeured me and we spent a bit over and hour in the lovely Renaissance painting. I really like Ghiradello, but Boticelli and Ucello� magnifique! Then, we found the "Micro-Gallery", which is a digital Gallery cross-indexed sixteen ways till Sunday. You can thumb through their collection by date, by geography, by artist, by subject, � and print out a custom tour guide. AND, they have zoom in features, so you can get a closer look at the digital image than you can at the real piece. How cool is that? We played on adjacent terminals (Like you people would share one terminal well either.) for about forty-five minutes. For some reason, I thought of Jeremy and Genie and how much they'd like this toy. Sunday evening, we had dinner with Roland's parents (love my in-laws) and our too-absent friends, Cheng and Katherine. The SCA ate our life in the past year, and we just haven't seen many of our non-SCAdian friends. Spent about two and a half hours eating and talking. I amuse Katherine endlessly for some reason. First time she met me, I made quite a splash at their first Christmas party with one of *those* conversations. "So where do you work?" "Goddard - over in Greenbelt." "Goddard?" "The NASA center." "Ha. Ha. So, what are you? A (ha) rocket scientist?" Pause. "Well, um, yes, actually." Megan almost slid under the table and everyone thought it was the funniest thing at the party. Sigh. I have this conversation with someone about once a month. It's not my fault I'm a rocket scientist. I've tried telling people I'm a controls specialist, but then I have to explain and we're back to 'rocket scientist.' For awhile, I tried answering I worked in 'guidance and control,' but everyone thought that was a sexual entrendre thing - so I quit before people started giving me black leather. On the flip side, about a third of the time the conversation takes the 'oh, you're a girl so you must be a secretary' path - which makes me so hideously angry I become what Roland terms Southern polite and tear the person up. I love my profession, but it doesn't make for easy cocktail party chit-chat. How come all the computer nerds don't get this weird 'ohmigod' reaction that leaves people quiet/backing away? Does Dareth have to put up with this in the nuclear profession? What about psychology - surely Bera gets funny looks? Maybe I should just lie. Anyway, Katherine and Cheng went on safari last year, so they had a number of monkey stories all their own. Let me just say, (1) I want to go on safari someday and (2) I cannot wait to hear the tales of 'Bera meets the animals' after she gets back from Kenya. I spent part of Monday night watching Chicken Run (Thank you Mel!) which is hilarious. Especially the "Indiana Jones" and "Star Trek" take-offs. Of course, I paused the movie when Anne called. She'd read the story of the Gwen's dragon and just had to call and laugh (shades of her experiences with Kevin's cloak). So we talked for three hours about pretty much everything and nothing. Eventually, I will get her tipsy enough to repeat all those stories in broader company. Life's all about goals and the journey. What else did I distract myself with this week? Browbeat my co-worker Martin into buying me lunch. Finally mailed Jenny's Christmas present (blush). Found out I'm a "Frisky Morning Squirrel." Took my sewing machine for service and cleaning. (If it's not in the house, I can't sew.) Talked to an equally bored at work Padraiga. Read comics. Even if you don't read Sluggy Freelance, needs to read this week's 'Legomic' series. Checked the DVN site - listened to their new single The Enormous P*nis which is vastly entertaining. Browsed the museum sites. The National Zoo has babies. The baby elephant and the baby tiger! This may be the Zoo's panda extravaganza month, but I'm all about the little tiger cub. Disappointment of the week - I found a box on the front porch last night addressed to me. Wrapped boxes are such possibilities. I think and think - did something I backordered finally come? Is it a late Christmas gift? Wow, it's heavy. Open the box. Oh. It's just casting clay for Roland. Rio Grande just keeps putting my name on the address label. Watched my Kevin & Jake present of 12 Angry Men. I seem to be in the mood for vintage drama lately. This one features Henry Fonda - a master of understated acting and the only reason I can stand the "Grapes of Wrath" movie. (Stienbeck - bah.) All the vegging is doing some good. Katherine remarked that the film A Beautiul Mind managed to make math sexy. I've always thought math was cool, but I've been so burnt out on work lately, I couldn't find my usual interest. But yesterday, I spent at a presentation on Lissajous orbits - a nifty gravity field singularity problem - and I felt some of the old fascination returning. Ahhh. When I heard the learned astronomer, -Walt Whitman � � � 
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