Civic improvement

I’d not been on the W&OD trail for a while, so when I headed out last week, I found something new:

I’d heard of these little popup libraries. The idea is that you take a book you find interesting and, at some point, return it or leave a different book in its place. In fact, “little free library” is an actual thing, website and all. I’d read about them a few years ago, and came across one of them on one of my walking meetup’s walks somewhere in Sunnyvale. (I thought I’d taken a photo, but I can’t find anything now.)

It’s kind of interesting to see it here, and wonder about the location. I mean—the W&OD is used by people seriously interested in getting from one place to another. They’re either commuting (by foot or bicycle; although there’s one maroon with an electrified unicycle who whizzes through on weekday mornings), or they’re getting in their cardio. I find it odd to imagine any of them stopping to browse the book shelves in the midst of this purposeful activity. (As opposed to, say, putting it near a bus stop. But there might be municipal liability issues involved in that.)

Anyhow, I certainly get behind any effort to encourage reading actual books.

The stuff of nightmares

Well, it’s All Hallows Eve, so the 9^th floor at work must be awash in blood and bones.

And so it is.

I’ve written before about our IT department’s relish for Halloween. From their humble beginnings in the server room two years ago, they expanded out into the atrium last year. I expected them to build on that platform, and indeed they did.

Way more skeletons, way more dark spirits, way more mayhem. Viz:

 

 

 

 

 

(I was looking for at least one of the players to have aces and eights, but I suppose—since they’re all already dead—it’s a moot point.)

However, I thought the particular deck of cards was a nice touch.

The stairs of our two sets of atria are built in the form of the double helix of DNA. Turns  out they were a good backdrop for a giant spider web. (The web turned out to be larger than one of the decorators had imagined from its online listing. But the staircase was up to the task.)

They must have enlisted the help of building services over the weekend to decorate, because hanging some of these specters required ladders, if not the electric scissors lift those guys use to swap out the big art pieces they hang there.

Anyway—ooer.

Water supply

A while ago I noticed this in Costco:

(Organic. Because of course.)

And it must be very popular, this harmless coconut water, because they had a shedload of it in the chiller:

I did not pick any of it up, so I can’t give a review. I was making a beeline for the wine aisles. I have my own idea of what’s “harmless”, and what’s “necessary.”

Gratitude Monday: If you're lost

Dear sweet baby Jesus—I would not have believed that last week could drop below the level of Thursday (from state-sponsored voter suppression to IEDs sent to critics of the Kleptocrat), but then Republican turbo-charged hate rhetoric served up the weekend.

So I’m at a loss about what to be thankful for today and I considered not posting anything at all. Seriously—this has happened only twice since I began consciously practicing gratitude a few years ago. But after this weekend I feel like saying fuck it to everyone and everything.

This being the case, I’ve had to go to my comfort-place: music. I’ve cycled through Mozart, Chopin and Bach, and through Clapton, Piaf and Lennon-McCartney. But I keep coming back to Eva Cassidy’s voice for the warmth and hope I so desperately need if I’m going to make it through the next hour, week, year. Eva is how I’m shielding myself from the fuckwittery all around us, connecting myself to the good that I know is out there (even if I cannot feel any of it at the moment).

I’ll share this one for precisely that reason:

And this one because it breaks my heart every single time I hear her sing it:

Do you care enough?

You know, given the events of this week—just the most recent abominations in the run-up to the mid-terms—I feel we could all use something different. So, have the latest recruiting video for New Zealand cops:

I say “latest”, because those clever clogs are known for creativity in online recruiting; here’s the one from last year:

You’ll want to watch all the way through the credits, especially for the exchange on this year’s video.

Now—get out there and vote.

Fashion statement

Someone in the neighborhood has a somewhat original fashion sense. I’ve seen him around occasionally, and the question has crossed my mind as to whether he’s a narcissistic jerk or someone who just doesn’t like trousers. (This one is a tartan, but I've seen him in a gunmetal grey version, too.)

The answer could lie somewhere on that spectrum, but in the meantime, I’ll just give you this photo I took of him walking a dog.

Woof.

States' rights? Seriously?

You know, this state; this Confederate state…

I described my whole tax preparation michegoss a couple of weeks ago. But that wasn’t the last word.

Because I received a letter from Virginia informing me that—in an effort to cut back on “fraud”, they required further information from me before they’d consider issuing my refund. (If I’d owed them money, there wouldn’t have been any issue.)

Well, I went to their poxy site to “enter [my] information” that would enable them to reluctantly and begrudgingly issue my three-figure refund, but it wouldn’t accept the entries. After switching from Firefox to Chrome, here’s the response I got:

Okay, 60 bloody days was unacceptable, so I called the number on their letter. And—fair dues—I’d forgotten all about the issue of inputting the property taxes I’d paid changing my tax liability. Because, although I’d focused on the federal return, of course it also affected my state liability. Which meant the refund I saw on my pre-property tax liability wasn’t what was in Virginia’ system.

Well, Jamal cleared it up for me. I’m getting $200 more back from the state—yay!

But I still don’t grasp where Virginia gets off requiring extra “proof” when I’m due a refund. And they’re still pissing me off.

Hard times indeed

Over the weekend I got a notification from my pals at Facebook, announcing that I’d transgressed their “Community Standards”.

Well, I had no idea what they were on about, so I clicked on the link and it only got worse:

Nudity? Sexual activity? Facebook has standards?

Well, first of all, I had no idea what I could possibly have posted that amounted to high crimes and misdemeanors against standards of nudity and sexual activity. Bad language, sure, but...

But then I discovered that my transgression occurred on 24 August LAST YEAR, and Facebook was only just now—14 months later—getting around to telling me I’d been nicked.

And then when I realized what the post was that had triggered this wrist slapping, my gobsmackedness just increased by an order of magnitude.

So I clicked on “take another shot at this, you cretins”, which resulted in them allowing as to how there was neither nudity nor sexual activity in my post. (Here's the whole histoire.)

And they let it back up. A year and two months after they hid it from the delicate eyes of my friends.

So, if you’re interested: here’s what got Facebook’s knickers in a twist:

You may want to avert your eyes.

Gratitude Monday: seasonal change

Autumn has finally arrived in the District They Call Columbia. We don’t have the spectacular foliage colors, although my back yard is a six-inch-deep carpet of fallen leaves. Pumpkin spice has been washing over everything since at least the last week in August and CostCo is only now starting to shift out some of the Halloween stuff to make room for Christmas yard displays.

Even Neiman bleeding Marcus has had their little Christmas shop up since the first week in September.

Because some people just need to ease their credit cards into the season, I guess.

No—I know we’re well and truly into Fall because the temperature and humidity have finally dropped, and you need long sleeves or a jacket outside. This is the season I love, and it seems like it took forever to get here—last week was the first time we could actually feel like the heat and humidity finally gave up their grip on us.

So—despite some folks jumping the gun on the various holidays—today I’m grateful for the snap in the air and the excuse to make soup and light candles.

Vive le Champagne!

No one comes right out and admits it, but I’m pretty sure le jour mondial du Champagne was dreamt up by a marketer. Either for a producer, importer or distributor. Whatever.

I have no boeuf with any of that, since Champagne is my substance of choice. I’m perfectly happy to fall in with the fête and pop a cork in solidarity. I’m just a wee bit surprised that there have been eight such celebrations before this one, and I did not know about any of them.

Regardless, I shall contribute to the day by opening a bottle and toasting the art and science of Champagne—even though as far as I’m concerned, every day is Champagne day. And so, here are a couple of photos for you:

Grapes about ready to be harvested at a vineyard in Épernay. Yes, I tasted a few of them. Delish.

A glass of Champagne at a café across from le tour Saint Jacques (all that remains of the traditional starting place for pilgrims headed to Santiago de Compostela—Saint Jacques de Compostelle) in Paris. It was a miserably cold and rainy day, and I was waiting for my bowl of soupe à l’oignon gratinée to arrive.

Everything improves when you’re viewing it through a glass of Champagne.