Three Favorite Sites

1. The Seattle Weekly's "Uptight Seattleite" column. If you've spent any time in Seattle, you'll probably understand why I love it so.

2. The Jabberwocky Variations. This page has been online forever, and hasn't been updated since sometime in 1998--but it makes me happy every time I visit it.

3. Planetizen, where I feed my inner urban planning geek.

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All is well, but I think my body is finally going to let me catch some sleep--so off to bed I go. I hope to be back tomorrow; in the meantime, I give you this preview of my self-portrait for today, Day 245, taken just a minute ago.

Jam Karet

Our title is an Indonesian phrase that translates to "rubber time." It's something we teach the students in our field study prep course each Spring, not because it's particularly useful vocabulary but because it explains a lot about how the culture differs from that of the U.S.

I've found myself living under jam karet for the past couple of days, working at a slightly slower pace and taking more breaks than usual. Yesterday's blog entry was a casualty of this low-key approach, alas, and I did have a nasty bout of insomnia last night--but even so it's been wonderful to have a chance to catch my breath. I'll get back to being a good clock-driven American tomorrow...or possibly the next day.

Asahel and the Tree of Promises

The church around the corner from my apartment has had what I, at least, think of as a "tree of promises" sitting outside it for a few days now. It's a wire-coathanger structure with paper leaves, each containing a Bible verse involving some sort of promise. I find it a compelling object, even though I don't really know why it's there. On my way home tonight, I realized that it might well have something to do with a service planned for tomorrow, so I stopped to try to get a picture or two in the dark.

As I was shooting away (and muttering under my breath, for long-exposure hand-held photography is an exercise in frustration), a man emerged from the bushes a few yards away. I watched his approach with some concern. I wasn't worried for my personal safety--the church is on a busy street with lots of foot traffic, and he was hobbling to a degree that made me pretty sure I could outrun him in any case. My worry was that he would ask me for money, or tell me drunkenly that I was pretty, or in some way or another want some response from me that I was unable or unwilling to give him.

That didn't happen. We had a nice conversation, the kind of conversation I'd like to have with any of my neighbors but rarely do, and then we parted ways. As I was leaving, he asked if I would take his photograph--which turned out to be the best picture I took at the site. I hope at some point I'll be able to track him down to give him a print of it.

Musty, Fusty, Cucumber, and Grubby

In 1991, the E.U., recognizing that laboratory tests fail to expose many acts of adulteration, instituted strict taste and aroma requirements for each grade of olive oil and established tasting panels, certified by the International Olive Oil Council, an office created by the United Nations, to enforce them. According to the E.U. regulations, extra-virgin oil must have appreciable levels of pepperiness, bitterness, and fruitiness, and must be free of sixteen official taste flaws, which include "musty," "fusty," "cucumber," and "grubby." "If there's one defect, it's not extra-virgin olive oil—-basta, end of story," Flavio Zaramella, the president of the Corporazione Mastri Oleari, in Milan, one of the most respected private olive-oil associations, told me.

--Tom Mueller, "Letter from Italy: Slippery Business" (The New Yorker, August 13, 2007)

This week's New Yorker is a treasure trove of geekiness. There's not only the surprisingly interesting story on olive-oil fraud quoted above, with the Beatrix Potteresque list of adjectives that form our title, but also a piece on a rare self-destructive disease known as Lesch-Nyhan syndrome, an NYC-centric update of Aesop's Fables, and a Talk of the Town bit by none other than Oliver Sacks which I fully intend to use as justification for my bryophiliac tendencies for the foreseeable future. (Consider yourself warned.)

I love the New Yorker. And I love my parents, who give me a subscription every Christmas as a gift.

(And, yes, this makes two posts in one day! Don't get used to it.)

Window on My Psyche

My psyche throws up some truly odd images. Take the dream I had last night. As it began, I was at work, surreptitiously watching a 14-minute-long video of Paris Hilton confronting the instructor of an American Government class. Even asleep, I felt all the guilt one should feel at enjoying watching a human being in tears yowl, "But I'm smart too!"

Then the dream shifted, and I was in a photocopy room, removing someone else's discarded originals from the copier I wanted to use. The first one I picked up was an 11" x 17" sheet entitled "BETTER STUDY GUIDE," in large letters. I'd just put it aside in favor of a smaller sheet showing a magic-marker rainbow enclosing the words "Contract with America" above a group of dancing stick-figures when Newt Gingrich came storming into the room, muttering under his breath. He grabbed the drawing from my hands, gathered up the rest of the sheets, and stormed right back out.

A minute later, the hapless instructor of the government class came into the photocopy room.

"Have you seen Newt Gingrich?" he asked. "I think I insulted him."

Dreaming the Impossible Dream

I've decided on a new goal: I will update this blog daily. Yep, daily. After all, I've managed to keep my 365 Days project alive for over 230 days, which would tend to suggest that a daily blog post shouldn't be beyond me.

Of course, I'm three days behind on posting my self-portraits as I write, so perhaps this suggests my daily commitment will lead me to post in bursts every few days--but even that would be far better than my current blog performance (to say nothing of my woeful record with more personal correspondence). My 365 Days performance would also tend to indicate that not every post will be particularly interesting, but I guess that's a risk we'll have to take.

Watch this space to find out what happens.

Hurray!

Two of my photos were chosen for Schmap. (Click on the "Photos" tab above to see them as well as some other people's pictures.)

Good News

I've just received a completely unexpected e-mail telling me that three of my photographs of the U.W. Medicinal Herb Garden have been shortlisted for inclusion in the next revision of the Schmap Seattle Guide. While there's no guarantee that they'll be chosen, and no fiscal reward for it if they are, I have to admit I'm thrilled.

Insert City Name Here

No matter how long you have been here, you are a New Yorker the first time you say, That used to be Munsey's, or That used to be the Tic Toc Lounge. That before the internet café plugged itself in, you got your shoes resoled in the mom-and-pop operation that used to be there. You are a New Yorker when what was there before is more real and solid than what is here now.

--Colson Whitehead, The Colossus of New York

This is more or less exactly how I feel about Seattle. Not surprisingly, I'm quickly coming to adore the book--the rest of this chapter is a meditation on how your experiences shape "your" city, and the rest of the book is a tour of Whitehead's personal New York.

I've been thinking a lot about these issues because I've just recently been appointed to the Seattle Landmarks Preservation Board. The criteria for landmark designation are pretty exacting, which is probably as it should be--but one of the first nominations that came before me dealt with a place that is clearly a part of many people's personal Seattle, and it was hard to watch them struggle to find a way to preserve that piece of their city under the terms of the ordinance. It was also quite an experience to make a decision about the designation in front of a room packed full of people with passionate opinions both for and against it. The Board ended up being split on the decision; I voted in the minority, for designation, but I was comfortable with the Board's decision.

Five months and 11 days later...

Hmmm. It's been a long time since the last update. Where has the time gone?

Alas, much of my time has been devoted solely to the gentle art of daily living. Although I'm getting better at managing my health, my energy's still pretty low, and I haven't been getting out as much as I'd like.

My Summer's off to a good start, however. As previously forecast, I switched to a new job at the UW last February; I managed to hit said new job at a point where several big projects were coming to a head, but things are settling down now, I'm settling in nicely, and I think I'm even beginning to see some small benefits from the quieter worklife.

I am positively delighted to be able to be back in school again. My quarters seem to be coming in MUP prerequisite themes this year; Spring was environmental science (with a 100-level online class and the UW Water Center's Tuesday morning seminar series), and Summer is American government (with POL S 202 supplemented by a class on state government at the Evans School, and a dash of GIS for kicks). I'm a little concerned about the workload this Summer; I'm taking vacation time for the first two weeks of the quarter (this week and next) and will also be using a few hours of vacation each week to go to class, but it may still be more than I can handle while still working. Fortunately, the Evans school class meets only during the b-term (mid-July to mid-August), so if I find my hands are full with the other two classes I can easily make it disappear.

January 11.

How can I be 37? It sounds like such an advanced age, an age at which I ought to be wise or at least set in my ways. For me, though, it's an age at which I feel very, very young. The last year has made it ridiculously clear that I need to make big changes in how I live my life, something I find by turns frustrating, frightening, and hopeful.

The first of those big changes is coming right up: I'm turning in the job I've found so stressful over the past three-odd years for something I think I'll find less so. I gave notice at the old job a few weeks ago, and am slowly coming to terms with everything that will entail: leaving a group of people I've come to care about, turning away from a challenge, likely even taking a pay cut. It's been hard and wonderful to hear over the past few weeks that I'll be missed there. I'll probably be gone by the end of the month.

Where am I going? Well, it's reasonably certain that I'll be the assistant to the director of a much smaller program on campus, although nothing's final as yet. If it works out, I think it will be a nearly perfect job for me right now. I'll have a chance to learn some new things, but in a quieter environment; I'm hoping that will help me manage my energy better so I can start taking classes again.

In the meantime, I've been having a great birthday week despite my battle with a nasty respiratory thing. Mom and Dad took me out to an indulgent dinner on Saturday, the lovely Carissa organized a wonderful (and deliberately non-surprise) dinner tonight, and I've been showered with gifts and good wishes. Thank you all--I won't be complaining this year about having a birthday so close to Christmas.

I carved my first pumpkin in more years than I care to contemplate last night. Far be it from me to boast, but I think it has a certain joie de vivre. Look for details of seed-roasting escapades soon on the Anderson Recipe Exchange.

Painters and thieves seem to have a thing or two in common. I deduced this this morning, as I tried to open a window or two in my apartment...and found that the ones I'd found open were now stuck closed. Add that to the ladders lying about, my freshly-painted windowsills, and the incredible neatness of the presumed thieves in moving plant pots and plant pot feet, and I think I can come up with a hypothesis that fits all of the phenomena. Alas, it's one that would imply my home security system has yet to be tested (and one that means I'll have to ask the manager to ask the painters to reopen the windows on the east side of the apartment), but it does put paid to the master criminal scenario.

Interesting. I have finally had one of the classic urban experiences I'd heretofore missed: I think someone tried to break into my apartment while I was at work today. Fortunately, they don't seem to have succeeded.

My first clue that something unusual had happened was to find that the plant pot "feet" I'd been using to prop open one of the windows of my sleeping nook were on the futon, and the window was closed. All of my windows are single-hung sash windows, and this particular one is quite loose in its frame. It was a windy day, and my first thought was that the window might have been banging against the frame and that my manager had come in to close it--which seemed unlikely, as I'd seen him in the lobby just moments earlier and he'd said nothing about it, but was nonetheless a highly embarrassing thought. (A year's worth of illness has not done much for the cleanliness of my living quarters.)

I didn't really think about an attempted break-in until I went into the kitchen for cat food...and noticed that the pots on the kitchen windowsill had been moved, and the window itself was unlatched and pushed up against the secondary locks I installed after Carissa's apartment was broken into. After I fed the cats, I checked and, sure enough, the other window on that side of the apartment was also unlatched and pushed up against its secondary locks. I can't really tell if whoever it was also tried the window over the doorway awning or the other windows in the sleeping nook, since I usually leave them open up to the secondary locks anyway, but it seems likely.

The funny thing is that instead of feeling pleased that the secondary locks actually deterred the would-be thief, I just feel vulnerable. I chose the locks--which aren't really locks, but hinged wedge-shaped stops nailed on to the frame a few inches above where the window sits when it's closed--knowing that they wouldn't hold up to a sustained attempt to break in. I figured it was unlikely that anyone would attempt to get in at all since my apartment is quite exposed, and I didn't want to worry about getting out in an emergency or fuss with keys if I wanted to open the windows. (The wedge stops can easily be flipped out of the way if I want to open a window all the way.) Even though I'm pretty sure that whoever tried to get in was a not-particularly-persistent robber who gave up upon meeting resistance, I have a disturbing mental image of said robber coming back with something to pry the stops out of the frame. And, worse still, somewhere in my head there lurks a master criminal who got in, found (without disarranging a thing) the extra key that I really don't think I had, and let himself out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. I know it's silly--but there you have it.

Update: the ants have been vanquished! (I wouldn't want you to worry.) It took about a week to get rid of them, but the Dr. Bronner's solution was pure...magic. I still swab down the counters once a week; my kitchen smells like cloves and peppermint, and I haven't seen a single ant.

I'm back...

I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be gone so long. The short version: I managed to overburden myself last quarter. I got a lot out of doing so--apparently, so much that I'm going to do it again this quarter!--but the workload made me slightly, well, insane. I never thought I'd enjoy driving myself crazy with statistics and economics. It might have been better never to know it was possible.

I've made a solemn oath to take better care of myself this quarter. To that end, I'm spending some time on Sundays cooking, making sure I get to the gym, learning to knit, spending more time with the cats, and updating this web log. (Is there a better way to keep yourself sane than keeping in touch with the people you love? I can't really answer that question, poor correspondent that I am--but I'll keep you posted.)

I have a lot on the schedule in the next few months. This is usually the worst quarter for me at work, and this year's going to be even worse than usual: two new training grant applications and two competing renewals in addition to the circus of admissions and recruitment.* As noted above, I've signed up for two Public Affairs classes on top of that, one on survey design and the other on media relations. I think they'll be great fun, but also a lot of work.

So far, though, the new resolution is working. I was away from the gym for a couple of weeks as the result of an unfortunate tendon injury, but I went back today. I'm finding knitting both compelling and restful; my first project is a scarf in two shades of red, and I think I'll even be able to wear it outside of the house if the cats don't take it over behind my back. I made a big pot of lentils this evening, using a Greek recipe I found on the web. (If you're interested, you'll find it here. You'll need to search for "lentils" or just scroll down until you see the "Bottomless Lentil Soup Pot." I used the cinnamon variation, boiled it down a bit, and put in some sundried tomato paste as I didn't have any passata to hand. It was, and is, wonderful--a good thing, since I'll be eating quite a few bowls of it this week.)

I hope you all are well. Take good care of yourselves, and let me know the latest!

*I can't help imagining The Circus of Admissions and Recruitment. If only we had a big tent and some lions!

I still haven't managed to send out the link to this log--ack! I have, however, been busy, and not only working and attending class: I am battling an ant invasion in my kitchen. So far, I have great hope that the organic homebrew anti-ant potion I found on the web (Dr. Bronner's soap and oil of cloves) will be effective, but I'm reserving judgment, and the right to run out and buy ant traps, for a while yet.

I hope you are are well, and pest-free. If you have any ant warfare tips, let me know.

I've posted pictures of the household (including a rather silly one of me) as a quick-and-dirty webpage. Don't worry, I'm not really planning to take over the world.

Hmmm. It appears to have been a good thing that I never managed to send out the link for this log back in April.

Many things have happened since April. Perhaps the most surprising is that I've managed to make a decision about my future: I'm going to apply to the UW Master's in Urban Planning program next February. This has kept me very, very busy, especially as I somehow managed to skate through my entire undergraduate career without taking a single one of the six prerequisites for the program. This Summer, I'm taking an economics class from a 22-year-old and revisiting the algebra I haven't studied in nearly as long as my econ instructor has been alive. In the Autumn, it will be introductory statistics and an American government class; in the Winter, a math class; and in the Spring and Summer, some sort of coursework in environmental systems and cultural diversity. So far, I'm enjoying it all--even the math.

I'm also starting to get involved with the Capitol Hill Housing Improvement Program, a local Public Development Authority. I'm not sure whether housing issues will be a particular focus of mine yet, but I walked by one of their new project development sites (on Harvard and Denny) and was shocked to find that they weren't just planning to bulldoze the existing buildings and put up vinyl-clad monstrosities instead. I'm looking forward to finding out more about how they do what they do.

In other news: I have a new cat. Feffo is still going strong at 13, but my dear friend Carissa talked me into bringing home a second from the Seattle Humane Society in late May. I'd planned to come home with a four-year-old female tabby, but through circumstances beyond my control I ended up with a six-month-old long-haired Balinese mix, who is an adorable little puff of fur and teeth and claws. I've named her Annushka, which means she gets called "Nush" or "Nou." She runs around scattering fur everywhere, attacking Feffo's tail, ambushing me, and scratching the furniture. It's a good thing she's cute.

I'm still holding up at work, but it's been a rough Spring--just too much work all the time. I have a couple of applications in for new jobs on campus; I'm particularly hoping to hear back from my old haunt, the Department of Philosophy, where I've applied for a job that's similar to mine but less intense. I'll keep you posted.

I do plan to post on a more-or-less regular basis--perhaps once a week. Please do check back to find out what's going on--and if you write me I'll make a concerted effort to write back. I miss you all!