Category: Mekeeping

The Continued Renegotiation of Ordinary Processes

It hasn’t been exciting here, which is frankly, awesome. I’ve had a few chats with recruiters; I’m still not actively looking, but I do take calls, and if I have a good conversation about one I can’t do, I pass it along to the folks I know who are looking. I still haven’t been able to make myself work on the refresher training I need for my professional certifications, but … I’ll get to it. I will. Really.

The writing’s going great, though! The rest of everything else is also getting there, one step, one wondering why something was put where I found it, one trip over the dog, one lily bulb in the dirt at a time.

I took Metro in to meet the NFCW for lunch last Friday. We didn’t know where we would eat or wander around, I didn’t think I could use my husband’s car1, and if I’m driving my truck, I don’t go anywhere near the Beltway without a pre-established plan to park. While my truck is not obscenely large, I’m not the most confident about how it should occupy space, even though I do have most of the fancy bells and whistles (not auto-parking because I don’t trust it). I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 23 for … many reasons, but let’s go with being verifiably inept at parallel parking. My beloved Mazda CX-9 also taught me some embarrassing lessons about needing a lot more space between cars than what’s afforded by just being at rest fully inside painted parking lines.

(Hey, automakers? Vehicles aimed at parents who don’t like to drive mini-vans need doors that will not slam into neighboring parked cars even if they are opened carefully by children who have earned the right to open their doors themselves. Or, y’know, by those parents trying to model civilized parking lot behavior.2)

It had been a while since I’ve eaten out in a restaurant; quite literally, the last week of December, when I met the NFCW for lunch after turning my work gear in.

Fortunately, I did not forget how, and the usual disaster associated with the cuisine we picked didn’t happen during the meal3. I thought this might have been a fluke, so, I tested it yesterday: I persuaded the husband to go out with me to grab lunch at a local Thai place before going to the grocery store (also together, which is something else we haven’t done for a lot longer than just the last week of December).

One stumble at a time, y’all. One stumble at a time.

  1. It was in the shop for almost two weeks due to deferred warranty/recall repairs. ↩︎
  2. Shout out to the mother who was yelling at someone on your cell phone while screaming at your kids and flooring your Lincoln Navigator in reverse until you smashed into the cart corral of the Target in Manalapan, NJ, WHERE. I. WAS. PUTTING. UP. MY. CART. WHILE. CARRYING. MY. TODDLER. ON. MY. HIP. YOU. OBLIVIOUS. PIECE. OF. SHIT.

    It’s been almost eighteen years since that incident, and I am happy to report that my son didn’t develop a trauma response to returning shopping carts when he’s done with them!

    Please continue to enjoy your stay in the pits of Hell. ↩︎
  3. We had Chinese food. It’s been my experience that sauces in Asian restaurants have traditionally had a slightly different relationship with gravity than they do at home, or they’re more attracted to the clothes I wear outside the house. ↩︎

Spring Cleaning, Excava-intentionally

Monday would have been my mother’s 76th birthday.

I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t automatically remember her birthday. I have a new OB/GYN, and the realization dawned on me while she and I were reviewing my family history during my first visit. My doctors are generally horrified when they notice that Mom died when she was 66, and yeah, I routinely add to that horror by pointing out that her sister didn’t even make it to 60.1

I’ve just started the late fifties to sixties gauntlet.

I am in much better health than my aunt was when she was my age, though the kidney stone I got last year did scare the crap out of me for a while2 since she did pass due to renal failure. I am also healthier than my mother was; I’ve never smoked, and I added ‘cardiac health’ to my routine of regular checkups years ago because I would really rather have some warning of a potential heart problem in advance than having to deal with the aftermath of having experienced one. The regular checkups have also helped me get a handle on some issues that I could do something about before they became things that required medications to manage.

Not that I’m opposed to medications if they’re necessary. I’d just prefer it if they weren’t, for as long as possible. Like antihistamines, augh. Two weekends ago, I promised myself that I’ll make a habit of taking the damn things every day that I plan to go dig in the dirt this year instead of suffering for weeks or, worse, winding up in my dermatologist’s office because I have a histamine reaction I can’t get under control without help.

So far, I’ve kept that promise! The side effect of keeping that promise, however, is that it deprives me of a ready-made excuse to lounge on the couch and doomscroll instead of gardening. Eh, making myself do things I enjoy is for my own good, right?

  1. On the bright side, I’ve had blood relatives who lived deep into their nineties and even a little beyond. Many of these allegedly had most of their marbles up until the end. However, the truth of this might have been obscured by their pre-existing mental aberrations and/or their storytellers’ magical thinking. ↩︎
  2. …until the cause was pinned to excessive dehydration triggered by mono and COVID. ↩︎

Spring Cleaning, Dementedly

There’s nothing wrong with your eyes: I did change the blog format. Actually, I messed around with it so much last week that I got disgusted and walked away without even writing a blog post. Trust me, you didn’t miss anything exciting. Chaotic? Unexpected? Not great? Also surprisingly good? Yep, all of these things did happen last week.

This week, I talked myself into attending a writers’ social. There were writers. They were social. Nobody ran away screaming, and I didn’t slip out the nearest exit at the first opportunity … okay, I didn’t actually get an opportunity to do that, but it was fine. Completely fine! Everything will be okay, except for the things that aren’t and won’t be.

The spring cleaning continues. I stumbled across a cache of old micro and flash fiction that I used to have posted here and various other places, and decided to put some of it back online. I’ll be doing that gradually over the next few weeks, as I continue to procrastinate about things to blog about my spring cleaning.

Penguins III: Snow Day

Happy post-Super Bowl week, if you’re on the Philly side of Pennsylvania. We are not, and are celebrating about as much as we intend to celebrate Valentine’s Day, which is … not really. I think I have chili mac planned for dinner that night1. We have zero incentive to go out, even if we are no longer snowed in that day, unless that’s the only decent window for getting to a grocery store before we are snowed in again.

The most romantic gift I can think of right now2 would be a new snowblower to replace the one that died during the last snowstorm or a new vacuum cleaner to replace the one I killed last week.

Speaking of a total lack of ambition, not that I was, but I decided to update the old page about the penguins and put it back up on this blog. I have gotten questions about them lately from folks who aren’t already in on that inside joke, so yeah, it was time? Maybe? Anyway, it’s here if you don’t want to click the link at the top of the blog.

And speaking of ongoing inside jokes about my being the last to join new social media platforms, I’m finally on Bluesky. You can find me there at shainorton.bsky.social.

  1. I suspect either my husband or I (or both of us) will want to bake something, though, even if I just wind up making more bread instead of waiting for the weekend. My last loaf of basic sandwich bread, unlike all of the others I baked in 2024 and January 2025, was not cursed! It came out great! It will probably be gone before Friday! ↩︎
  2. Within reason, with minimum planning required. Unreasonable things that require planning are way too much of a stretch for February. Ask me how I know … or better yet, don’t. We also have our wedding anniversary this month, which we’ll probably hold off on celebrating until summer, or maybe early fall. ↩︎

Move Slow, Carry a Broom

Happy not-Monday, February, or pre-Super Bowl week, whichever you celebrate. If you’re celebrating, that is. If you’re not, that’s completely understandable, because…

Dang, I’m in this weird mental space1 of feeling like I dodged a bullet by leaving my last role and guilty that I didn’t stick it out to face the mess alongside the people I was working with, never mind how unreasonable doing that would have been. All the reasons I needed to walk are still just as valid as they were in December and as unrelated to the current Great Collapsing Hrung Dis … I mean kerfluffle.

Other than that, I don’t have a lot of things to say, interesting or otherwise2. I did succeed in killing another vacuum, a picture of which is on Instagram3. That’s been the third vacuum since we’ve gotten the dog. We should probably stick to using a broom on the carpet.

  1. Yeah, it’s equipped with inner Musak. I’ve had “Fortnight,” the chorus of “I Had Some Help” (most noticeably when I’m cleaning), and “Nosedive” stuck in an earworm loop for a few days now. I’m sure this will clear up once we’re out of endless February and I’ve clawed my way up past the rubble. ↩︎
  2. Writing’s happening. Professional Education … isn’t yet. My home office plants have perked up enough to stare at the back of my head and plot vengeance. I think. I’m a little afraid to turn around to look at them. ↩︎
  3. Oh, yes, I also succeeded in joining Instagram! It only took, uhm, a while. My username there (nine.penguins) is a throwback to my old LiveJournal, which I swear I took down a long time ago, but it’s still apparently online. At least the earlier posts of Modus Dementi have had the decency to stay in their box, seriously, y’all … I just can’t even. ↩︎

Chaotic Ambitious

Past sabbaticals on this side suggest I’ll have the daily domesticity under control within a month.
– “In Absentia, Refactor” 12/29/2024

The current “under control” daily domesticity trend line looks more like a chicken chase than I had anticipated last month, but it hasn’t stalled. Overdue maintenance has taken more of a priority than I expected, as well as juggling with weather-related schedule changes. All of the birthdays in my household are winter ones, so over time, all of our annual medical appointments have drifted to this quadrant of the calendar. Every year around this time, I spend an increasingly unpredictable amount of time trying and failing to move storm fronts with the power of my mind1.

But I’m still writing every day2, and I’ve convinced myself to start working on renewing one of my certifications. I have watered my sad home office plants, but I am still trying to figure out a better situation for them.

I’ll call January a personal success. Here’s to a Happy Lunar New Year and an okay February!

  1. While I’m descended from a grandmother who could (hypothetically) scare a tornado into swerving, it looks like this talent skipped my generation. ↩︎
  2. I added a “post to blog every Monday” goal to this, so you will see more inane natterings from me. Today’s entry was supposed to be about politics, but, eh, I couldn’t do it. Maybe at some point, but not today. ↩︎

Pre-Requisite Routines

Despite all my recent talk about doing things and resuming old practices, I didn’t make any resolutions for the New Year. I haven’t for a while, choosing instead to re-examine existing, desired, and otherwise routines to see what fits, what doesn’t, and what might work better if it were tweaked.

This re-examination requires a three-step process: ‘Look at the calendar,’ ‘Look at the list of tasks’, and ‘Look at current twitchiness.’ I don’t do the vision board thing (long story), and manifesting seems like just asking to get into trouble with the Greater Good, or in grace with the Greater Evil, whichever one is listening. Kidding. Mostly, but not about vision boards.1 I know manifestation is less about playing Ouija with the universe than it is about psyching oneself up to be more attentive to opportunities to move closer to one’s goals.

I also check my routines when I pick up a new paper planner or try/re-try an electronic planning system, which I do more than I should. For 2025, I’ve dropped the messy mix of Azure DevOps Boards, Todoist, and several Microsoft Outlook and Google Calendars that I was using to keep track of things for an old-school return to a Moleskine XL Planner, with a few recurring timeboxing alerts set up on my phone.2

Is it working?

Ask me in March. I should have figured out the professional education routine by then.

  1. I transferred between several institutions before I finished my bachelor’s degree program. Because of this, I lost academic credits because of institutional policies about rejecting STEM courses that were more than ten years old.

    I have retaken introductory courses (e.g. Introduction to Computers), because the only way I could challenge having to spend money and time taking a class that covered material I learned more than thirty years ago and kept current due to work experience was to pay the same amount of money and spend the same amount of time creating a vision board that illustrated how I would use my experiential knowledge to benefit society.

    Arguing with a transcript evaluator that this basic knowledge was a pre-requisite for the advanced coursework the institution had already agreed to accept got me nowhere. I could have sued. I could have also paid up and spent a term cutting out pictures from magazines and gluing them to posterboard while biting a hole in my tongue to remind me that I needed to pretend I had only cheerful feelings about the colossal waste of time.

    This was pre-AI, y’all. If it weren’t, I would have handed buckets of contempt to an LLM, asked it to translate the mess into Positive Vibes, apologized for the inconvenience, and thanked it. I always thank AIs, just in case. ↩︎
  2. I no longer have alarms for my son’s going to the bus, after-school activities, and to bed on school nights, but he still stops whatever he’s doing when he hears the Apple “Playtime” ringtone. ↩︎

Penciling in a New Recipe

I have a new former co-worker who insists I start writing again…
…I don’t know what to think about that right now, or even if I want to pencil in when I want to think about that.
– “In Absentia, Refactor” 12/29/2024.

After I turned in my work paraphernalia, I met the NFCW and another new ex-colleague for lunch. Thanks to the happy confluence of being within walking distance of a Vietnamese restaurant and not having any afternoon meetings, I got to have phở for the first time. It was as delicious as I had hoped, and I had zero regrets afterward about the food.1

The jury remains out on the aftermath of my lunch conversation with the NFCW, which picked up again via text while I was walking back to the nearest Metro station. She bet me a bottle of fancy brandy2 that I could come up with seven chapter titles by the time I got to my last stop on the Metro. There were seven stations on my way back.

I did it in five. I didn’t invest a lot of thought into coming up with the titles. I was paying more attention to her messages about the horrible date she’d had over the weekend and my inner argument about how ridiculous it was that my first reflex to figure out when I could distribute the boxes of holiday cookies I bought for the neighbors before dropping off my work stuff3 was to check my work calendar which I didn’t have a) access to anymore and b) a need to access anymore.

But, yes, yay, voilà, there the chapter titles were on the phone note I popped open when I sat down on the train, and they even seemed to fit together.

Huh.

Maybe not thinking so much can be a viable strategy?

Maybe?

Anyway, I’m trying it. Since I was already twitchy about no longer having a recurring 10:00 AM meeting, I decided to reclaim that timeslot for writing. I’ve consistently made that appointment. Unfortunately, I’m still struggling with4 making my biweekly 3:00 PM meetings, which I repurposed for professional education. I have a few certifications that will expire in 2025 if I don’t complete enough continuing education credits, and there are some others I’d like to earn while I’m on this vacation. I’ll figure it out.

Yes, I’m still calling it a vacation.

  1. I love trying new foods. This doesn’t always agree with my digestive tract, which still hasn’t quite forgiven me for spending five years in Indiana (or maybe it’s only still pissed at me for blowing out my gallbladder in 2005). I reserve my trying new food experiences for occasions when I don’t have to rush somewhere afterward, especially when I’m not at the house. ↩︎
  2. I recognized the brand name as “too expensive to make bread pudding sauce with,” which has been my primary experience with brandy. Side note: I discovered that cherry chouffee can work in Black Forest Cake if I can’t find any kirschwasser. I was going to try cherry lambic, but I couldn’t find any of that either. ↩︎
  3. I burned the batch of Orange Sparkle Cookies I made. They were fine for us, but not pretty enough for other people, and I was too aggravated at myself to bake the rest of the ones I’d planned to make. ↩︎
  4. “Struggling with” = I skipped them because I wanted to use the time to stage dinners, getting things cut up and/or into rubs or marinades, so everything is ready to go when it’s time to start cooking. I’ve always hated the idea of spending hours on Sunday prepping meals for the week, but I appreciate getting to spending an extra hour every couple of days or so getting my pre-mise en place on for a few dinners at a time. ↩︎