~Robert Fritz
Read the third chapter of my dissertation, and then write about this.
It's strange seeing connections like that now, when I'm so far from the dissertation and from ever considering publication, because I'm still really into all of the things I wrote about, and it all still really intrigues me.
But every time I see a cool connection to my project, I think, Somebody should really write about that.
My office is upstairs in our house. It's actually the original master bedroom, with its own full bathroom and a wall full of closets. (For the record, I originally chose one of the smaller bedrooms, but HP recommended that I take this one. It has the best view in the house.) So. . . office upstairs. The space where we spend the most time, though, is downstairs. Downstairs is at least 10 degrees cooler than upstairs. Our bedroom is downstairs. Our living area is downstairs. HP's man cave/office is downstairs. And, of course, the majority of the alcohol and the beer fridge are downstairs, so why would I not hang out down there?!
When I was bringing my work laptop home every day, I spent most of my work time downstairs, too. I could easily sit on the couch with HP and Abby and do work without feeling like I was taking time away from them. At least I felt better then about doing work at home. Now, though, I have a fantastic new desktop sitting up in my office, so when I work, I work upstairs.
A couple of days ago, I was going to do some research for my teaching award project*, and I really wanted to hang out downstairs. I dug through my shelves and pulled out an old notebook and headed downstairs, ready to read and write notes for a couple of hours while listening to whatever TV HP was watching.
But I couldn't.
I type so much faster than I write that it's frustrating to sit and take notes, especially recording quotes that I might want to use later. It's so frustrating, in fact, that I didn't even get through one line of notes before I gave up altogether.
I'm a slave to technology. If I have a toy or tool that will let me do something more quickly or with more enjoyment, I really only want to do that something with that tool!
We just got DVR about a month ago. H-O-L-Y C-O-W. If I could marry a machine, I would marry this DVR. It remembers when my favorite shows are on. It doesn't record repeats (if I don't want it to). If I remember while I'm sitting in my office that Shark Week starts next week, I can send it a little electronic message that reminds it to record. And while it doesn't cook me breakfast, it could find some really great breakfast recipes on the food channel.
The downside is that I don't want to watch TV without DVR ever again. I don't want to watch commercials I don't like. I don't want to sit through the last five minutes of some show so that I don't miss the beginning of my new favorite (The Cleaner. Have you seen it? Fantastically flawed characters.). I don't want to watch episodes of Deadliest Catch from 2005. I've already seen those. And I'm really only into PTI when Wilbon and Kornheiser are on. A fine-tuned database of TV info, the DVR takes care of it all. It will even let me pause (pronounced pa-ooo-say) when I need a bathroom break. So nice.
And now. Now I have a Wii (thanks to HP who was probably tired of hearing me talk about how we really needed to get one). A Wii that informed me yesterday that I'm as fit as a 65-year-old. Yes, I was hungover. No, that definitely didn't make 34 years' difference. Combine that with the recent bikini technology that makes my boobs look perfectly round and perky but that does nothing for the flab the bikini doesn't cover, and I have a bunch of technology shaming me. It's telling me to stop spending so many hours sitting on my arse in front of a desk (and maybe a few with my fiance, the DVR) and to start shakin' it!
I'm not going to turn into one of those socially awkward people who has to have ear buds shoved in her ears or a cell phone in her hand in order to walk down the street. I enjoy smiling at people and saying hello, watching them try to figure out whether I'm insane or on something. I'm also not going to become a basement recluse who would rather interact with Mii's than with real humans. But I am going to continue taking advantage of the perks these technologies have to offer.
And I'm going to be as fit as a twenty-year-old.
__________
*This is that award that I didn't post anything on. I won a big award. It was very exciting, especially considering that I was only in my first year at Fantastic College. The really exciting part, though, is that I get paid time off to design a Bridge/Transition program (to help new-to-college students get prepared for the demands of college) for our school. I'm stoked.
UPDATE: In some twisted form of cosmic irony, my [brand new] keyboard's enter key just stopped working. And I spent a good 2 hours on the phone with Dell and Logitech. And they want me to mail them my keyboard and then get another one back in about two weeks. Because clearly I shouldn't need a keyboard for two weeks. F***ers.
I'm on a chicks with guitars kick lately. Any recommendations?
He's like, "What the heck are you doing behind that computer? It's a gorgeous day out here!" He and his gang of masked yellow buddies proceeded to fly around and land on my office window, posing for the lady with the camera.
HP just snapped photos through our back screen door of these new visitors to one of our flowerbeds.
Jen C. invited me over to enjoy her new (and newly assembled) patio furniture tonight, and an impromptu pop-over turned into the perfect evening with a new friend. We started with grilled chicken, potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. . . accompanied by some really fantastic red wine (the name of which has completely escaped me now). The wind and drizzles cleared up just in time for us to take bowls of perfectly ripe honeydew out onto the patio as the sun set over the lake.
And then there were fireflies. . .
The California girl in me gets very excited when there are bits of twinkly light flitting around in the sky and the grass. Fireflies are kind of my thing. I lub 'em. And when I mentioned them, Jen said "Did I tell you about the cornfield?"
Jen's house is perfectly positioned with a cornfield on one side, a lake on another, and a 20-acre forest on another. We walked around to the cornfield, and there, rising out of the corn, were literally hundreds of fireflies. You know how on romantic comedies and animated fairly tale flicks, there's always the pre-kiss moment filled with magical twinkle lights? This was kind of like that but way better (I didn't, after all, have to eat a poisoned apple or wait for some way-too-pretty dude with over-coifed hair to kiss me afterward).
That inspired some star-gazing, and I learned that Jen is as much of a geek as I am. She even has a star maps book. So we whipped that sucker out and walked all over the property, identifying all sorts of constellations and feeling probably a little too self-satisfied. I can now quite capably point out Lyra, Libra, Scorpio, the Northern Cross, the Corona Borealis, and some others in addition to my normal repertoire of Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Orion, and Cassiopeia.
Oh, and Wilma, Jen's (nervous and a little uncertain) dog decided after only our second meeting that I'm a perfectly decent human who knows how to pet a dog and, so, is worthy of her attention.
And I decided that I very much like spending time with my new friend.
