Absence of fog

Whoo—the sun came out yesterday here in the District They Call Columbia! Blue sky, trees throwing shadows and everything.

(Well, apparently except around the White House, where the Kleptocrat motorcaded to Joint Base Andrews instead of taking Marine One. They cited “bad weather” and “fog” as the reason for the unusual arrangement, which meant he did not have to walk past reporters shouting questions to him. “Fog” in this case probably signifies “brain fog” under that manufactured hair.)

Anyhow, we had actual sun, and it was lovely, even though the temperature climbed up near 90. So I’ll share a couple of photos from my morning walk.

Just in from old country

I was walking around the Faux Urban Center (FUC) the other day and noticed this doubly-geopolitical vanity plate:

Well played.

What's in a name

It’s been a while since I’ve tangled with recruiters and recruiting technology. But some things just don’t change.

Witness what I got when I uploaded my résumé to Taleo, one of the two or three applicant tracking systems (ATS) with a lock on the market. Could have been one of their competitors—they’re all pretty much of a muchness.

The deal is, you upload your résumé, and it’s supposed to populate their fields—first name, last name, contact details, work history. The algorithm is meant to do all the heavy lifting so you can then jump through all the mindless hoops they insist on before they blow you off.

I looked at the first screen after I uploaded; here’s what I saw:

CSPO indicates that I’m a Certified Scrum Product Owner; it’s at the top of my résumé, next to my name, so that even recruiters can register it. You have to make these things obvious; I’d paint it red if I thought that would help. How it got converted to being my first name I cannot tell.

Their algorithm needs work.

Into each life...

Ah, not everyone in the environs of the District They Call Columbia was as happy as I about Saturday’s rain. For me, it was restful (and didn’t flood my livingroom). But for others…

Well, friends of mine in a part of Fairfax County that’s still got horse properties announced that a full day of rain washed out the four-foot culvert that supports their road over a creek. This marooned everyone on the down-side of the creek along the dead-end private road. Meaning the property owners will have to pay for rebuilding the road themselves.

And get it done before their supplies of milk, bread and single malt whisky run out.

But closer to [my] home, I was driving over to meet a friend for dinner in the People’s Republic on Sunday when I spotted this at the roadside.

I’d walked passed this stretch of the road coming back from the farmers market Saturday morning, and everything was fine. Obviously, some time between 0900 on Saturday and 1730 on Sunday, things became not fine. This car—which I truly hope was just parked and empty—was utterly totaled.

There’s more rain predicted throughout the week.

Gratitude Monday: a rainy Saturday

It rained here in the District They Call Columbia at the weekend. We did need it, because the 30-minute gully-washer on Tuesday that stranded motorists on the flooded George Washington Parkway (and leaked into Metro stations and other fun stuff) didn’t really do a lot to alleviate weeks of heat.

It wasn’t so bad most of last week; only one day did I have to close the patio door and crank up the AC. But Summer in the District is default brutal. And as a transplant from California, I’m still in drought mode, worrying about the water tables way more than a city dweller ought.

Saturday morning I walked over to the plaza where the farmers market is held. I got an overpriced café au lait (note to self: their espresso is okay, but their coffee is so bitter you have to add sugar) and piece of dry coffeecake from the coffee house and sat outside watching vendors set up. The older fella and dog from a couple of weeks ago showed up and took what obviously is Their Table. This time they were joined by a couple who were clearly well known to the dog and her human.

I overheard them say that the expected rain wasn’t supposed to arrive until mid-morning. I took notice because I hadn’t been aware of the forecast. There were a few sprinkles as I wandered over to buy a baguette, but that was it. I was glad, because it’s a couple of miles from the farmers market to my house, and I did not fancy getting the baguette soaked.

I got home and proceeded with my usual Saturday activities—laundry, cleaning, etc. By 1130, the rain started. It wasn’t a few sprinkles, nor was it torrential; just steady soft rain. After about an hour, I opened the patio door so I could listen to it. It kept on raining for more than 12 hours.

I spent at least five of them in the livingroom, reading, writing and listening to it. When I went to bed, I opened the bedroom window to allow it to continue "playing" for me. It was so restful, and such a blessed change. It’s been so long since I’ve had that natural music for an entire day, and I’m so grateful for it, as we move into a more typical July week here in the District.