Archive for March, 2009

Opportunities

Published at March 31, 2009 in Library stuff and Travel. 0 Comments

This library thing could be very, very interesting.

There was a guest lecturer in my class last night who’s in the publishing industry and who started a library in Tanzania with his wife while they were there with Habitat for Humanity.  They need volunteers who can help with the library stuff, since a) they’re not librarians themselves; and b) Tanzania doesn’t really have a library culture.  In particular, they need someone who can talk to the women of the village about health issues, and maybe collect some women’s health materials in Swahili.

I’m seriously considering going for a week or so when they go in August.  I won’t have classes at that point, and I shouldn’t have a problem getting time off work.  And I can spend a few days in Europe on the way back as well.

Eep!

Published at March 22, 2009 in Spend!, Clotheshorsery and Vanity. 10 Comments

I just spent an ungodly sum of money on a dress. A fancy dress. A dress I may never wear but once.

But, damn, it’s a nice dress. And it makes me look fantastic. And it’s fancy enough for a fancypants black-tie-optional event, which is something I’m going to next week.

I’d spent the whole afternoon Saturday looking for something, anything, that I could wear and look good in and feel good in and maybe not have to fork over almost as much as I would like to spend on a flight to Iceland for. Lane Bryant had some cute dresses, but they all had Empire waists — which make me look simultaneously hunchbacked and pregnant — and also had major static issues. Most of the stuff at Macy’s either had Empire waists, needed special underwear, or was matronly.

So I went to Leelee’s Valise, a store I try to avoid because it makes me want to spend money. But damn, they have some gorgeous stuff.

And let me tell you, after an afternoon spent trying on stuff that looked cute on the hanger but made me look horrible, it was nice to be handed a pretty broad selection of beautiful, well-made dresses that made me look great. And the killer one was this knee-length Tadashi dress with a black ruched-chiffon bodice and skirt and lace-over-nude sleeves with a little bit of sparkle (something like this one, but with a portrait neckline). I walked out and looked at myself in the mirror and was almost speechless. I looked really damned good.

I actually bought a different dress at first. Not that I didn’t love the Tadashi, but that price tag was giving me fits. And I don’t go to many fancypants black-tie-optional events, so I figured that I’d be better off buying a cheaper dress I could dress up with accessories and probably get more use out of. I will most definitely be going to cocktail parties and dinners at library conferences. Librarians, I am learning, network like nobody’s business. Nobody likes a good conference, complete with opening receptions and closing dinners, like a librarian. But the Tadashi might be a bit much for that kind of event — though it might not, but I won’t know until I actually go to one.

So I got the cheaper dress. But that lovely, gorgeous Tadashi dress was still calling to me.

I started looking for shoes. I wanted gold, but so many gold shoes look tacky. But I found these, and fell in love.

I spoke to my sister, who’s also coming up for the event (our aunt is being honored for her work with a Catholic foundation). She was going to wear a black wrap dress that she’d worn to her company Christmas party. I was again hearing the call of the Tadashi, so I offered to let her wear the lace boudoir dress, which would give me an excuse to go get the Tadashi. Which is what I did.

And you know? Now I have something to wear to fancypants events. It won’t go out of style, since it’s classic, I know it looks good on me, if I lose weight I can have it taken in and if I gain weight I can sell it on eBay.

I’ll just have to start going to more fancypants events, that’s all.

How to get lucky in the stock market

Published at March 16, 2009 in Money and Spend!. 2 Comments

I’ve been thinking about that line from Wargames in regard to the stock market:  The only way to win is not to play.

For years, I’ve been kicking myself about not having a job that affords me 401(k), and not having an IRA, and in general being in a very precarious situation financially — that was, of course, my own doing, intermittent periods of unemployment notwithstanding.

And when I sold my apartment last year and wound up with a big chunk of money in my hand, I thought I should invest it, or put it somewhere it could make some money for me.  It’s not that I trusted the stock market, exactly, but it seemed like a reasonable thing to do, and interest rates on Treasury securities were so lousy.  Instead, because I couldn’t get past the inertia, I just parked it in an online savings account and some CDs.

Probably a good decision, I’m thinking, even if my savings account’s interest rate has been slashed to 1.65% recently due to the financial crisis.  Not that I really “decided” so much as defaulted into this position.

Oh. Boo. Hoo.

Published at March 12, 2009 in Female trouble, Sex miseducation, Anxious masculinity, Woman-Hating and Dipshittery. 7 Comments

How little sympathy do I have for Travis Henry?

Travis Henry was rattling off his children’s ages, which range from 3 to 11. He paused and took a breath before finishing.

This was no simple task. Henry, 30, a former N.F.L. running back who played for three teams from 2001 to 2007, has nine children — each by a different mother, some born as closely as a few months apart.

Reports of Henry’s prolific procreating, generated by child-support disputes, have highlighted how futile the N.F.L.’s attempts can be at educating its players about making wise choices. The disputes have even eclipsed the attention he received after he was indicted on charges of cocaine trafficking.

“They’ve got my blood; I’ve got to deal with it,” Henry said of fiscal responsibilities to his children. He spoke by telephone from his Denver residence, where he was under house arrest until recently for the drug matter.

Henry had just returned from Atlanta, where a judge showed little sympathy for his predicament during a hearing and declined to lower monthly payments from $3,000 for a 4-year-old son.

Three days after the telephone interview, he was jailed for falling $16,600 behind on support for a youngster in Frostproof, Fla., his hometown.

“I love all my kids,” he said in the interview, but asserted he could not afford the designated amounts, estimated at $170,000 a year by Randy Kessler, his Atlanta lawyer. Kessler said Henry was virtually broke.

$170,000 a year works out to $18,888.88 on average per child.  Obviously, some are getting more, such as the 4-year-old in Atlanta, but it works out to an average of $1574 per month per child.  Which is neither a huge burden for a pro football player with a $20 million contract *nor* a huge amount of money relative to what it costs to clothe, feed, educate, shelter, entertain and transport a child.  His cocaine habit probably cost more per month.

Actually, he got cut loose from the team because of injuries and the cocaine thing.  So he’s only been paid $6.7 million.  Are those tiny violins I hear? Continue reading ‘Oh. Boo. Hoo.’

Score!

Published at March 11, 2009 in Clotheshorsery. 1 Comment

Just got a $750 Dana Buchman robin’s-egg blue suede jacket for $99 at Filene’s Basement.  And it’s not dowdy!

For that, I will (temporarily) forgive them for moving their women’s department to the top floor in an out-of-the-way location and cutting it by about 2/3.

Speaking of biceps

Published at March 8, 2009 in Iron. 6 Comments

Mine are coming along quite nicely.  I’ve just finished Stage 1 of the New Rules of Lifting plan, albeit a couple of weeks later than I’d planned.  I had to take a couple of weeks off recently.

First, I tweaked my back doing squats; I was somewhat pressed for time, and paying more attention to the clock than to my form.  Big mistake. But a week off lifting, combined with some stretching and judicious use of cold packs and anti-inflammatories, put me right.  Unfortunately, I had one workout after I got started again, and had to stop for another week due to the cold from hell.  But I’m back on track.  Which means that I’m off for another week before Stage 2, which is good, since it gives me time to practice the front squat with overhead press with my Swiffer.

I’d rather not whack myself in the chin with the bar.

The workouts are still very intense, and I still feel pretty wiped for a couple of days afterwards.  But if I don’t perturb the muscles, I won’t make them mad enough to get bigger and stronger, right?

Nutritionally, I’m still having a bit of trouble getting in all my protein, and I’m not cutting back as much on the sugar as I should to make room for the protein.  I’d really like to rely less on the soy protein powder, since it’s making me gassy.

David Brooks soils himself in fear over Michelle Obama’s biceps

Published at March 8, 2009 in Political theater, Anxious masculinity, Woman-Hating and Dipshittery. 5 Comments

Let’s ignore for the moment all the other dreck in this typically specious MoDo column. Let’s focus on the glimpse she gives us into the psyche of David Brooks:

Let’s face it: The only bracing symbol of American strength right now is the image of Michelle Obama’s sculpted biceps. Her husband urges bold action, but it is Michelle who looks as though she could easily wind up and punch out Rush Limbaugh, Bernie Madoff and all the corporate creeps who ripped off America.

In the taxi, when I asked David Brooks about her amazing arms, he indicated it was time for her to cover up. “She’s made her point,” he said. “Now she should put away Thunder and Lightning.”

I’d seen the plaint echoed elsewhere. “Someone should tell Michelle to mix up her wardrobe and cover up from time to time,” Sandra McElwaine wrote last week on The Daily Beast.

Washington is a place where people have always been suspect of style and overt sexuality. Too much preening signals that you’re not up late studying cap-and-trade agreements.

David was not smitten by the V-neck, sleeveless eggplant dress Michelle wore at her husband’s address to Congress — the one that caused one Republican congressman to whisper to another, “Babe.”

He said the policy crowd here would consider the dress ostentatious. “Washington is sensually avoidant. The wonks here like brains. She should not be known for her physical presence, for one body part.” David brought up the Obamas’ obsession with their workouts. “Sometimes I think half the reason Obama ran for president is so Michelle would have a platform to show off her biceps.”

Oh. My. Continue reading ‘David Brooks soils himself in fear over Michelle Obama’s biceps’