Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Signs of the Season

Driving home from work Monday I saw indisputable evidence that the year is rapidly coming to an end:  Christmas trees. 

In the neighboring counties in northwestern North Carolina, thousands of acres are dedicated to the cultivation of Christmas trees, which are already being harvested to ship to points far away.  Part of me hates to see so much acreage and resources involved in the production of a disposable commodity, but then we can't have every Paul Bunyan wannabe traipsing the National Forests, chainsaw in hand, in search of their perfect holiday icon.

Meanwhile, millions of pumpkins are being led to slaughter this week.  When will the carnage end?

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

That time of year

Last weekend's cold snap brought the first snow flurries to these here hills, and the freeze must have sent my muse in search of warmer digs because I haven't been able to come up with anything postworthy to note here.

Oh, you noticed.

This week things are warming up, in more ways than one. The weather is much more temperate, at least once the sun comes up. That means that we really don't need the heat on in our offices, thank you. (It has been a stifling 80-degrees in my windowless corner of the building!)

Outside the realm of meteorology, there is a spark of activity on the front, too. I won't risk jinxing any possible positive outcome by elaborating here, but will simply say that I am very pleased to have made contact with someone whose intellect and humor are compatible with my own. It's been so long since I've ventured into the realm of dating and such, however, that I have no idea what I'm doing. Hopefully that will seem endearing and not off-putting.

I'm not sure why, but most of my (at least temporarily) successful long-term relationships (all 3 of them) have started in the Fall of whatever year they started in. (Interestingly enough, one beau and I met at a Halloween party, where he was a cowboy and I was Cousin It.) Obvious biological drives aside, maybe there is another instinctual influence that prompts some of us to seek out warmth for the coming cold days -- and nights -- ahead.

Or maybe it's the dread of another New Year's Eve spent with the dog.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Making amends

... to JadedJ for inflicting unscenic imagery upon him. Click here for something a little bit más hermosa, my friend.

Last year around this time I was forced to spend 10 days in a resort hotel in San Juan, working the conference that my employer sponsored. Alas, the only way to really unwind after working 12-hour days was to head to one of the hotel's 3 pools (or 2 jacuzzis). If that didn't relax one sufficiently, there was nothing to do but walk up the street to one of the local dining establishments to fortify oneself with a mango and rum concoction. Or three.

It was the best worst 10 days of my life.

Now as the morning temperatures here in the mountains dip into the 40s, I wouldn't mind re-visiting SJ ... but as a tourist. Alas, any income allocated to travel must go towards intellikid's airfare home for Thanksgiving. That's ok, though -- I'll just add a trip to San Juan to that list of things for her to do for me when she graduates and is making more money than I.
Or else I could look for a Sugar(cane) Daddy . . . .

Saturday, October 10, 2009


I've been eating plenty of fruits and veggies lately . . . doing tai chi and strength training . . . feeling pretty damn good, actually. So it was rather distressing that yesterday two people in my building commented on how exhausted I looked. Huh???

Maybe it's just the work environment that makes me look less than perky. When I look in the mirror at home, I think I look fine. Especially since I changed out all the high-wattage lamps for 40-watt ones.


Random observation of the day: It takes a very brave woman to wear white trousers when she's got her period. It takes another type of woman altogether to wear see-through white trousers and sheer underpants that allow persons following behind her up the stairs to see her sanitary pad.

(Sorry, guys.)