Mmmmm...

As a part of launching this new product, we’re rebranding one of the elements. This means that the previous acronym—FNA—will henceforth be known as MNA.

So of course I thought of this immortal Muppets song, which I believe is entirely suitable for a Dog Day Friday in the Year of the Pandemic. We need more Muppets!

You’re welcome.

Twofer

It’s been a while since I posted any of my vanity plate oddities. So here’s one I found at the local Trader Joe’s:

  

I mean, seems appropriate for a blue car.

The story here is that I was walking past this car to get to mine, and just as I was leaning down to shoot the plate, I noticed there was a woman behind the wheel. You do feel a little foolish when caught in the act, so I waited until she got out before saying that I just collect vanity plate pix and try to figure out the stories behind them.

We agreed that people who just have their initials are sorely lacking in imagination. And we were equally frustrated when we couldn’t figure out some plate content.

As it happens, the day before I’d been coming out of the Harris-Teeter and noticed a Mini Cooper idling by the barrier (grocery stores in Virginia frequently block off the pavement around their entrances so you can’t take your shopping cart to your car; I get it that shopping cart theft is a thing, but I have never fancied leaving my groceries unattended while fetching my car. You never know who’s going to spit in the bags). The plate was ‘N AVANT”.

I did not shoot a picture, but verified with the driver if the meaning was “en avant”, which is “let’s go”, or “forward” in French. It was.

The blue car lady and I both approved.

Actually, as long as I’m talking blue cars, here’s another:

Pairing

I have found that IKEA is an excellent source for candles. Their selection is not particularly broad, but it’s the only place I know where you can get 50 tealights for well under a fiver.

Some time ago—meaning possibly a couple of years—I bought these two candles and they’ve been sat on a shelf ever since.

Having run low on my non-tealights, I finally pulled them out last week. Only then did I realize how much they resemble a pair of…

Whatevs. They burn just fine.

Domestic affairs

We are indeed living in crazy times. Cadet Bonespurs spent the weekend playing golf and pretending to president while Republicans abdicated all responsibility for doing their jobs. Several shit-tons (sorry, not sorry) of ammonium nitrate blew away a goodly chunk of Beirut (a city in some country to which Bonespurs couldn’t quite put a name, even as he was insisting it was a bomb). Schools across the country have opened despite insufficient precautions against COVID-19, and cases are unsurprisingly spiking.

Me? I had the day off yesterday, and I decided to clean around my washer and dryer. I pulled out several hundred plastic carrier bags and several score of paper grocery bags. Dunno what I’ll do with the latter, but the latter are my trash bags. I don’t see why I should pay for “plastic trash bags”, when supermarkets used to give these away for free. (I wasn’t sorry to see that stop—I have several score of cloth tote bags from every tech conference and street fair I’ve ever been to. But now grocery stores have reverted to plastic and paper bags, so my collections are expanding again.)

But here’s the STOP PRESS news: I also found several articles of clothing that had fallen around and between the appliances. Here I was blaming the dryer for eating them, but that which was lost has now been restored. Time for the fatted calf.

Gratitude Monday: self care

Friday was my employer’s first company-wide “Self-Care” day. Meaning—except for essential staff (like some IT)—the entire company took the day off. No answering emails, no meetings, just step-away-from-the-device and take care of yourself.

My self care was the splendid joy of my yoga instructor coming to my house in person instead of via Zoom, and showing me a new pose where it’s possible to hurt yourself. (Half Moon, if you’re asking.) This way she could prevent me from doing same.

We wore masks, did not hug and stayed across the room from one another. (And if I can wear a mask during an hour of yoga, y’all can wear one to dart into the Piggly-Wiggly or wait for Jiffy Lube to change the oil.) I’m getting to like the Sun Salutation.

And then…we had lunch. Sitting at the far ends of my dining table, we ate salads and chatted about this and that. (I ran all the dishes and the cutlery through the dishwasher just before she got there, and I used gloves when I made the fruit salad.) It was the first time since March that I’ve spoken with someone in the same room not involving giving them my credit card for groceries.

Dear Lord—the sheer joy of carrying on a conversation face-to-face (across a distance, but still). Absolute heaven.

That’s my gratitude today—yoga lesson and lunch with a friend. It don’t get much better than this these days.

Fate should not tempt me

Around this time last year I was in the process of interviewing for my current job. My whole approach to this opportunity was different from my previous life. I referred to it as #playingtowin.

So for my Friday earworm this pandemic week, let’s have Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “I Take My Chances”. It encapsulates my attitude shift, and it’s one of my anthems.

Civic duty

You know, it seems odd that Uber, of all companies, sent out an email to remind its users to complete the U.S. Census, but they did:

So I finally filled out the form. Way less invasive than questions from the 2010 Census. But no citizenship nonsense.

Look—if you haven’t filled out the form, you’re worse than me. And you should do it, because it’ll piss off Cadet Bonespurs, bigly. For that reason alone, you should be counted. But it also matters to Congressional representation and other apportionments. 

If it scares the Kleptocrat and his minions, you really should do it.

Estimate this

At work we are looking at the promised launch date for the Next Big Thing in our rearview mirror, and the director of engineering (to whom I refer as Foghorn, as in Foghorn Leghorn) is still telling us that a major component for v1 is “coming”.

He’s been telling us that for going on three months, now. First it was actual dates, all of which whizzed past us like, I dunno, very fast whizzy things. Then it was “in two weeks”. Then “over the weekend”. Then, basically, mañana.

Frankly, it makes me think of an abusive relationship—you listen to lie after lie, or take hit after hit, and still think, “This time he’s telling the truth,” or “He says he’ll change; this is the last one.”

If you've had no experience with that, just think of Lucy holding the football for Charlie Brown.

So I considered posting this on the internal bulletin board, but decided instead to put it here.

Looking through rosé-colored glasses

I finally opened one of the wines I bought last year from the collective or Oregon wineries who bought California grapes that snooty California vintners wouldn’t buy after 2018’s devastating wildfires.

It’s fab; thanks for asking.

Gratitude Monday: not even Solomon

Back when Sidney Poitier won his Oscar for The Lilies of the Field, I had no idea what lilies were. I mean, I’d seen Easter lilies, and calla lilies; neither of those impressed me much, so I had no notion of how Solomon in all his glory would fall short of theirs.

Also—there were no lilies in the film, which was besides in black and white, so I was just lost.

However, about 25 years ago when I took a flower arranging course, I fell in love with their beauty and their scent. I planted stargazers and tigers and days in my garden so I could have them every year.

Well, I’ve not got around to planting much in my garden—still have a lot of soil amendment to do, but people around the People’s Republic do, and I have purely loved seeing them during my walks. I’ll share some pix with you for Gratitude Monday, because we should all enjoy their glory.