beancounters

The mountain comes to Cola Yak

He has ascended to his holy place once more, dispensing his brand of wisdom and an occasional slug of America's favorite soft drink.

This photo pretty accurately conveys just how dark it is here.

Why Bunny and Mr. Man are not destined for the prom

Bunny and I attempted another game of chess tonight. This was our third - and final - game in the world. If there's a worse chess player than my daughter, it's me. Together, we're a disaster. I don't think we have the patience to actually plot out the moves. Plus, we were laughing so hard, it didn't matter.

She sang an Eagles song, loudly, to distract me from what passes as concentration. "Raven hair, ruby lips/ Sparks fly from her fingertips/ Echoed voices in the night/ She's a something something/ And a something light." It worked. I lost a knight and a few pawns immediately.

"I have an idea," I told her. "You could join the chess club at school, and teach me what you learn." This was apparantly such a terrible notion, she ratcheted up the volume another few decibels as revenge. I took her second bishop, assessed the board, and decided to pull out the big guns.

"I have something to tell you, and I think now is as good a time as any. There's this boy, about your age, and I promised you'll go to the prom with him."

First day blues greys

So I survived the first day at the new job. Not much to it, obviously - we were supposed to have brought our cubicle stuff, but I didn't bother, so I had nothing to do for most of the morning. I read a huge prospectus about an ongoing project that will shortly consume my working life. I figured out my e-mail and programmed my voice mail. I started a binder of all the orientation materials.

I must still be depressed over saying good-bye to my dysfunctional work family last week - now it's hard to remember why I felt I had to jump up suddenly and transfer. If I second-guess myself too hard, I'll get really sad. Must have been the move - I didn't want to commute as far as I would have had to, starting next December. Yeah. That was it. Case closed.

My cubicle is decorated in grey. Everything is light grey and dark grey, with black accents. And for a newer building, pretty poorly lit. Clearly must bring my box of cubicle good cheer and good task lighting today.

Don't know enough about my new co-workers yet to snark about them. There is one woman, also a new hire, who is very, very cheerful. She's cheerful to the point of pathology. I swear I saw the cords standing out on her neck. It got kind of creepy, so I hope it was all just first-day jitters and she'll calm down soon. It's hard to imagine how she could have risen to this level in state service without having been culled from the herd one day and stomped to death.

Altoids Tin Survival Kit - TheUselessWiki

I'm enchanted with this, for some insane reason: the Altoids Tin Survival Kit.

It reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to carry a tiny doll (a Little Kiddle, for those of you female and my age), and her tiny accessories, all of which I made myself, in a tin about that size.

Anybody need an emergency kit? Heaven knows I need something positive to do with all the Altoids tins I collected, back when I was a curiously strong addict. E-mail me!

Or better: Maybe we could have an Xmas blogger gift exchange, of silly DIY gifts. Thoughts?

Should and would

Kid and husband went to church, and I pretended that I was going to ride along. But at the last second, as the truck pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed the door handle, jumped out, slammed the door shut, and made a break for the house. Nobody came after me! Free!

Things I ought to do in the next 3 1/2 hours:

- Vacuum the whole house, in order to divest all the rooms of approximately 5 lbs. of dog hair clinging to the carpet and furniture

- Clean the kitchen, which I didn't do last night because we went to a concert

- Read three chapters of Rainey, two chapters of Gray, and write an introduction to the frat boy group project (which is coming along well, no thanks to my lack of confidence)

What I probably will wind up doing:

- Reading blogs

- Playing Bookworm

Well, 3 1/2 hours was really too little time to get all that other stuff done anyway, right?

Have a happy what?

Presenting e-cards that you can send to your favorite gal-pal to wish her a "happy period".

I got one word to say: ohhellno.

I can't even count the number of ways that this is so wrong.

[via]

Thank this, suckas

It's Saturday, so you have time for the preview for Jay Pinkerton's Thanksgiving Day: The Movie. Starring The Rock.

(Don't know how old this link is, but in any event, it's seasonal!)

[via Pops, in a roundabout way]

And so it begins

This is tragic: one of the first American victims of the bird flu. [via]

Life is a box of kittens

The deed is done. I left my team. After seven years!

I didn't want a party, because, well, what if I don't pass probation at my next office and I have to exercise my return rights? I'd have to go back and face everybody. (I mean, not that I'm not a good employee, but shit happens. Or more like, budget cuts happen.)

But you can't tell my team anything. They made a breakfast buffet, and invited the whole department. And okay, we had a pretty good time, yeah yeah.

They also took me out to lunch, just the team. Lots of teasing and just a little crying.

At one point, I felt compelled to call my future office, for personal reassurance that they're expecting me Monday. Yes. All is well. This will work. My cheese was moved, like, four years ago. It's High Time.

Funny thing: my leaving has started a stampede amongst my team members. Alien Secty has applications out there. Marsha, too. My boss would normally be worried about the upheaval, but she's so close to retirement, she's more like a woman with a box of kittens - all she wants is to see each of us well-placed in happy homes.

I'm at the college computer lab now, procrastinating blogging preparing to meet the prof who gave me a bad grade on my prospectus proposal. From the ashes of my B-, I shall rise again! I shall put together a prospectus of awesome might and power!

Later tonight, I shall meet the frat boys. As of today, our group project feels hopelessly mired. I've never had great success in team efforts in this grad program, and this team effort will be no exception. What the hell is wrong? Our profs seem to thrive on assigning group projects. I believe it's their secret, underground mission to teach us how to work in groups, or barring that level of success, teach us how not to work in groups. The Trial And Error of Group Project Work - this'll be the stealth class we completed without knowing it. I imagine that in the last seminar in the last semester, they'll all jump out from behind the curtain and yell Gotcha! and then hand out our extra grades.

Baby needs a H1llary Duff fix

As usual, just when I get depressed, thinking all the things I know are too minor to blog, I visit Jo's site. For Jo, just eating breakfast and listening to Beethoven can be inspiring! And I am inspired to tell you minor things about my day, but with renewed verve and vigor.

You too can join the Spanglemonkey Robot Army! Be all that you can be!

My daughter's excited to be going on a fourth grade field trip tomorrow to snow country. "There'll be over a hundred kids on the bus!" she told us excitedly. "And it's one of the premium buses, too - it has a DVD player, an' screens, an' we'll watch movies! But parents can't go," she added, "'cause there's no more room. There's not even enough room for Mrs. S - she's driving up in her own car." BB and I were left to reflect sadly on that poor teacher, driving alone in the quiet instead of sitting on a crowded schoolbus, listening to Jimmy Neutron reruns at top volume for 4 1/2 hours. Such a shame!

They're going to Donner Summit, to visit the museum there and get acquainted with one of the more famous and, er, colorful events of CA history. So Bunny packed a backpack for the trip, and showed me how well she did. Extra socks, extra pair of gloves, etc.

"Maybe you'll want to take a lot of extra food," I said.

"Nah. There'll be plenty of students on board if I get hungry."

She's taking along a CD player. In a world where every other kid has a handheld game or an iPod, I couldn't begin to say no. But the batteries were dead. We went to the kitchen for replacements. The thin cabinet next to the microwave is where we keep lightbulbs, batteries, tools, candles, and God knows what else. There aren't enough drawers in this kitchen to make a junk drawer - this was the best we could do.

While I gingerly poked around the cabinet, trying to keep stuff from falling out, Bunny jiggled her CD player and prayed for the right size battery to come up. "Come on, double-A's. Come on, double-A's ..." Junk roulette!

Flux-capacitor headlines in 2005

For your consideration ...

California has the reputation of being the nation's political freakshow, and we have done little to dispel that notion this special election year. Imagine for a moment that you'd fallen asleep in 1985, awoken 20 years later, picked up a newspaper, and read this:

"Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, in his final harried weekend of campaigning for his lagging special election initiatives, vowed Saturday to "reach across the aisles" to his political opponents -- even as a crowds of protesters, lead by actors Warren Beatty and Annette Bening, dogged him across Southern California."

"... and I suppose Jane Wyman is the first lady!"

Don't quitcher day job

Well, that sucked. One room, three women across the table from me. They were looking for particular skill-sets (trainng and curriculum development) which I simply don't have. I threw all the junk I could muster at them from my generic experiences as a trained adult, but I doubt it even cracked the veneer.

Now comes the part of the day I hate: my brain will feverishly make up interview questions for the rest of the day.

Made-Up Interviewer: Ms. Beancounter, what experience will you bring to the making of this sandwich?

Me: I have strong sandwich-making skills. My first job was as an apprentice sandwich-maker for a residence with specific and exacting lunch needs. From there, I branched out into my own company, where I have been in charge of lunch needs for gatherings both large and small. I recently became proficient at making sandwiches for young children. The key to success is communication and a commitment to de-crust the bread.

M-U I: What is your position on peppercorns in the salami?

Me: Personally, I have always taken an anti-peppercorn stance, but recognize the need to be flexible when producing sandwiches on a large-scale basis.

M-U I: What are your condiment strengths and weaknesses?

Me: Oh, ha-ha, I never know what to say to that question! [Pause for laugh] I think my strengths are the levels and smoothness of the mayonnaise and mustard. My weakness? Well, I've always been partial to sweet relish. [Laugh]

2nd interview

Remember I said I "carpet-bombed" one agency with four applications? A second department has set up an interview with me for this morning. On the phone, I warned the schedule flunky that I've already heard I'm not reachable for a promotion, until I start to work there and take their in-house promotional exam. The flunky dutifully noted this, then called me back after telling this to her boss.

"Come in and interview anyway," was the cryptic advice.

I don't know if I am about to start a bidding war over my bad ol' self (heh), or if that's wishful delusional thinking and in reality, I've given away my trump card. No matter how long I work in state service, I think I'll always be naive about personnel matters.

I still believe this agency could accept my current promotional exam score if it really wanted to. So I guess that's primarily why I'm going to this interview.

Meanwhile, the cola yak still has no idea about his impending move. Not that it'll impact him much. A few days in a dark cardboard box, and then it'll be just another monitor in another cube.

But you still have to get in

Yale Makes Graduate Music School Free.

The anonymous donation, announced this past week, will make advanced music education free beginning next year. Music scholars hope it will pressure other schools to do the same.

Nice!

Ph.D. in Bogusology

It's Saturday, so you have time to get your doctor's degree at The University of Random Access. Don't like that name? Click the "state seal" and choose a better one.

Our Industrious Founder

Frat boys making causal order jokes

Can't think what to write about. Well, here's a gimme: it's Friday, and I haven't put up a cute dog picture in a month of Fridays. Here, let's go into Bunny's room before she wakes up:

A little off-center, but Daisy's in the shot, which is all you need. That quilt is one of Bunny's baby quilts, made by me.

Research methods midterm last night - the open book test I was bitching about earlier. It was okay. I think I blew the question about quasi-experimental models. Maybe I should have thrown in a survey of the treatment group. Should I have? How many people here think I should have surveyed?

Otherwise, an okay test. I can't say the same for the prospectus proposal. I got a B- on it. Part of me is laughing, because that's, like, a failing grade. What up? But remember, I dithered about this paper for two weeks, and then suddenly lunged for the laptop and pounded out two pages in about 20 minutes. Apparantly? Not the best method.

Also, it's just the proposal, and is supposed to be dreadful, and supposed to be subject to major revision after meeting(s) with the prof. Big picture, the final project will be better-cogitated and will deserve a better grade. Yes. It will. Make it so.

Met with the frat boys for our group research methods project last night. Frat Boy #1 laments that he is always laughed at in class. FB #2 comes back with this: "You're forgetting the antecedent variable, that you are the class clown." "Well, that's true," says FB #1 complacently, pleased that somebody noticed.

Coworkers: the dysfunctional family you never had

Gorillas in the mist,
originally uploaded by beancounter.

Counting down the days. My last day will be Thursday the 10th, but for all intents and purposes, my last work day will be Wednesday. Between a good-bye breakfast spread near my desk, and a good-bye lunch following that, Thursday will be a bust from a productivity standpoint.

My replacement is a nice woman who is surprised and not a little displeased to find herself thrust into a position of responsibility as quickly as all this. She is supposed to be "transitioning" from another dept. into ours; she has been slowly finishing up old workload. Sl-o-w-l-y transitioning. Well, not so slowly anymore! Sorry, but your new dysfunctional family awaits you, and there are lots of dogs to be walked, as it were.

Of course, all this transitioning could be for nothing; I haven't heard from my new employer since the job offer. They were supposed to have sent paperwork by now. This could all be a dream, like that year of "Dallas".

Coffee break game

I've always liked that game with the marbles, where you skilfully eliminate adjacent marbles of the same colors ... What's it called? Well, the FBOFW site has a version using snack foods. Fun!

Another wedding

Congratulations, Doc! Done snuck off to another blog and got hisself hitched!

Closed candy and open books

We have a midterm in our Research Methods class on Thursday. Open book, open note. Insideous! Just when I'm reaching the point where I can knock out a paper at home with efficiency (following the requisite lengthy period of garment-rending angst), they go and pull this: a real-time exam.

I let my study buddies copy my notes, and hardly charged them anything, which was nice of me. Savvy still hasn't just now made it home from her honeymoon. But I assume she'll do well on the exam; the word is, she and her new husband sat down and read for their respective classes - some of the time.

In other news, Bunnylou's total Halloween candy haul must weigh eight pounds, easy. In years past, she used to generously share with her loving parents - at least share the candy she wasn't wild about, like Smarties. Nowadays, though, she's more, shall we say, frugal. So far, she's parceled out lousy two Smarties, and I am fairly sure she's inventoried the rest. Buy your own, is her implicit slogan.

I'd like to come back with a snappy parental rejoinder such as Kid, that's why you have an early bedtime, but if I do, she'll get paranoid and hide her stash. And there are no brothers or sisters here to narc her out.

I'll bide my time, and later maybe I'll test the inventory theory.