The problem with being 1099’d is that you end up either paying quarterly taxes, or owing the feds. For me, the result this year, is the latter. Yes, we’re still paying off stuff from 2002 and 2000; yes, we’re requesting that they extend the installment agreements…

The good thing is: I’m not earning the bulk of my income from 1099’d income any more, it’s almost all w2’d which means next year, we’ll probably either break even or get a refund.

(The goal is to break even, honestly. Getting a refund means you OVERPAID via withholdings, not that the government is giving you a gift.)

But, anyway.

In other news, I might actually be caught up enough to resume the visits to Curves on Saturday. I’ve missed almost a month, and I’m not happy, but I’m caught up now. So, it’s all good.

…that impress me most.

Here’s an example: Viking Office Supply‘s remanufactured inkjet cartridges are half the price of the actual HP model. In addition, they come with a postage-paid return envelope to recycle the cartridge, and a moist towelette for removing stray bits of ink from one’s skin.

Color me Impressed.

The day began with me waking to a hazy sky and a raw scratchy throat. Also, the pool guy had called last night to ask to come give us an estimate at 10 AM, and I’d forgotten we needed to leave earlier than that today (note: there is nothing wrong with the pool, it was just the pool cleaning service).

I managed to get into my office without spilling my chai, but I didn’t remember to cancel my facial appt (which I am just not in the mood for) tomorrow, and since it’s now less than 24 hours, they’lll charge me if I cancel now. Well, tomorrow’s Friday, and I’ll probably be in the mood then, and if not, well, it gets me out of the office at 12:30. Can’t complain about that.

Today, by 10 AM I had already dealt with so many stupid people that I dubbed the day Stupid Thursday! (the exclamation point is, in fact, obligatory)…alas, I was confronted by more and more of the mentally challenged as the day went on and yet, despite the fact that we were in constant motion, it was productive, AND we got to chat which hasn’t been a factor in the work day in a long time, and I’ve missed it.

Also, we’ve confirmed now, that we do, in fact have a floor in our office, even if it does slope.

I came home wanting to write, but instead I felt hungry and crabby and anti social. Fuzzy brought me lasagne, which was inhaled, not merely eaten, and then I came into the bedroom to lie down, except there was a story burning, except that once I picked up a pen all the dialogue in my head had vanished and all I’ve produced now is a trio of handwritten pages full of stilted speech in a setting I’m not sure I like and at a time I’m not sure I can justify.

Some days, I feel like I should turn in my pen and pad. Today, for example. This notion was affirmed by the fact that my cute little lavender laptop decided to have a nervous breakdown and froze, then restarted and blamed the issue on bad graphics drivers.

I’ve downloaded an upgrade, and the system seems stable, but then, I’ve had the thing for over a year, and it’s only rebooted once, so who can tell?

In a bit over two hours, Stupid Thursday! will be over.
Maybe, just maybe, I can keep from committing senseless acts of violence before then.

Week of 4 April 2004

1. Condemn:: vilify
2. Promiscuous:: sex
3. Pro-life:: anti-choice
4. Mona Lisa:: Nat “King” Cole
5. Crown:: half-crown
6. Mumble:: mutter
7. Hack:: chop
8. Diet:: coke
9. Introduction:: preface
10. Latin America:: Canada*

I blew off the last two hours of work today, not because I couldn’t have found more things to do – there are always more things to do – but because by noon, both Jeremy and I had already had a day that felt a month long. By one I was fractured, and fractious, and just needed to be AWAY.

I came home, and spent about an hour just singing along with songs from Napster cranked up to the point where, if the neighbors hadn’t all been at work, like sensible, normal people generally are at three in the afternoon, they surely would have complained. Well, perhaps not quite that loud. But still, it was freeing, cathartic, to get lost in music, to remember the way resonance feels in my head, in my body. I think in melodies and lyrics, more than in text or images, and I’ve been boxing that part of myself this past month or so.

To further combat the severe Mondayness that permeated my life today (and involved a failure to visit Starbucks for my usual morning macchiato, among other things) I’ve decided to list fifty things that make me smile, in no particular order.

1) Rainy days, especially when I can hang out at home, and write.
2) The beach, in winter, or right after a large storm.
3) The beach, any other time of year.
4) Puddles, especially when no one’s watching and I can splash like the inner seven-year-old I still harbor within myself.
5) Cheesy musicals, especially the old Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland “Hey let’s put on a show” kind.
6) Horse racing.
7) Figure skating.
8) Sunflowers, and irises, and flowers in general.
9) Impressionistic art.
10) Good novels, and quiet time to read.
11) Fuzzy.
12) Zorro, especially when he play bows.
13) Cleo, especially when she’s wrinkly and tired.
14) Swimming.
15) Strong coffee.
16) Dark chocolate.
17) The smell of Clinique make-up – it’s my mother’s smell.
18) Sunshine on the wood floor of my office.
19) The smell of freshly-turned earth.
20) Stargazing.
21) Swimming.
22) Tap-dancing.
23) Singing.
24) Random *snugs* from friends I generally only see online.
25) Random hugs from friends I generally see offline.
26) Long phone calls with my aunt in Connecticut.
27) Handwritten letters.
28) Postcards, especially from places I’ve never been.
29) Smart dialogue in television shows.
30) Non-traditional casting.
31) Micro-fine roller-ball pens.
32) Crayola crayons.
33) The fortunes inside Perugina Baci chocolates.
34) Grumbacher oil pastels (the scent as well as the colors).
35) Brand-new spiral notebooks, college ruled.
36) Soft white cotton ankle socks on freshly lotioned feet.
37) Really good drawing paper, even though I can’t draw.
38) The cello.
39) Travel.
40) Coming home after a trip.
41) The moment in the middle of a hot summer night, when the heat breaks, and cool air drifts in.
42) Lightning.
43) Lady bugs.
44) Music, in general.
45) Pasta.
46) Grilled cheeseburgers.
47) Bubblebaths.
48) Clean sheets.
49) The smell of clothing dried on a line, outside.
50) Love – in pretty much any form.

1. What are the last two movies you saw?
Mona Lisa Smile on DVD and What a Girl Wants on cable.

2. What are the last two TV shows you saw?
The West Wing and, mainly because it happened to be on, and NOT because we chose to, American Idol.

3. What are the last two items you purchased?
Aside from coffee drinks? Algaecide and a lightbulb.

4. What are the last two beverages you drank?
“Cool blue” Gatorade and a generic chocolate protein drink.

5. What are the last two sites you surfed (before coming here)?
OpenDiary and LiveJournal.

Questions from Tuesday Twosome

I didn’t post anything about the weekend because I’ve been having this feeling that I should be writing real stuff, and not just “What I did on Saturday” stuff, but then I thought, is that any less real? And I realized that even if such posts are largely idle chatter, sometimes when I go back to them, they spark something else.

Translation: Even though it’s Tuesday, I’m writing a weekend wrapup post.

I’ve been in nesting mode, more often than not, this spring. Partly, this is because work is busy, and even though I generally like the people I work with, by the time I get home, I don’t want to deal with people. Especially, I don’t want to answer questions. This is why I’d never have made a good teacher; I’m impatient, and I don’t like repetition.

I’ve realized that I also don’t like it when people don’t try finding information before asking. No, this isn’t directed at anyone, and maybe it’s just a me-thing, but, it’s become a pet peeve lately, that I’m called upon to provide answers that are easily accessable. (Okay, it is directed at someone. Mom: You have highspeed net access in your home office If you need an area code or zipcode, you are just as capable of going to smartpages.com or usps.gov as I am. It is not my job to do this for you. Those sites work just as well from a computer in La Paz as they do from a computer in San Jose.)

I haven’t been to the gym in two weeks, and I can’t believe this, but I miss it. Just as I miss music, when I’m not around it, I miss having something physical to do. I’m going tomorrow morning, no matter what.

No, really.

So, anyway, the weekend. It was nice. We lazed around on Saturday, and then went to Jeremy’s concert. His group was joined by the SJ Peace Chorale, and I swear I’ve never seen a more dour group of singers outside a funeral mass. No, even in a funeral mass. I’ll accept that some music is serious, but there’s a such a thing as taking oneself too seriously, and this group was an example of that. Also, their director’s hair did not move. At all. Not even when she was conducting really wildly. This disturbed me, both because I’m certain this is a woman who doesn’t care if she uses aerosol loaded with fluorocarbons, and because it’s just not normal.

Anyway, we came home, and I changed clothes because I was cold, and then we went out for our monthly dinner with the Group. Somewhat frustratingly, for me, these group dinners coincide with the heaviest day of my monthly ‘visitor’ and I’m always overtired and a little on edge, so quieter than usual, as a result. Still, dinner was nice, conversation was fun, hey, even though I did NOT get coffee (my fault), I did get to spend time in a bookstore. This is never a bad thing.

Sunday, we slept most of the day. Well, Fuzzy slept most of the day. I left the bedroom to write, and ended up reading Harry Potter fanfic and watching cheesy movies, between naps, and then in the evening we hit Target, and the fabric store at Westgate, because my mother needed Pellon fleece and Schmetz sewing machine needles, and Beverly’s was out of the latter, and while there, I bought a quilting frame, even though I don’t quilt, because they’re great for doing large embroidery pieces.

We went to Friday’s after that, more because neither of us was in the mood to cook, and neither of us had eaten at all, and I was pleased with one of their Atkins offerings: two cheeseburgers (no bun) and a side salad, which I replaced with a side of broccoli. It satisfied my meat craving, and didn’t give me carb crash. I just wish they didn’t succumb to this paranoia that meat is only safe if it’s charred halfway to destruction.

And there we are, a quiet, completely unproductive weekend, in which I failed to write anything of interest, and accomplished nothing except managing enough laundry to provide us with fresh sheets, and clean underwear.

I think I’m feeling apathetic this week, but I’m not sure….

Books marked with an asterisk are repeat-reads.
Links do not open in new windows.
Titles are sorted by author.

Diane Duane:
High Wizardry
A Wizard Abroad
The Wizard’s Dilemma
A Wizard Alone

Laurell K. Hamilton:
Seduced by Moonlight

Laurie R. King:
The Beekeeper’s Apprentice
A Monstrous Regiment of Women
A Letter of Mary

Lorna Landvik:
Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons

J.K. Rowling:
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire*

Robin Sisman:
Weekend in Paris

I have a special admiration for cheeseburgers.

Not the kind that come in brand-labelled waxed paper, with something that might once have been an onion waved at it before serving, but the classic, homemade, grilled on the back yard barbecue, cheeseburger.

I think part of my admiration comes from the fact that even though the cheeseburger, and it’s non-dairy cousin, the hamburger, are simple foods, I can’t manage to make a decent one.

Yes, it’s true.
I can make beef stroganoff, but I can’t grill a patty of ground beef without causing it to be either raw, or dryer than the brickettes it is suspended above.

My love of the cheeseburger is tied up with memories of my grandmother hosting family picnics, in her back yard. My grandfather would fire up the gas grill, a surprisingly tiny one compared to what we have in our own yard, and my grandmother would slice tomatoes, either in wedges, which would then be marinated in oil, vinegar, and herbs, or in slices, which were amazing when sprinkled with a bit of salt.

The question and answer session would come next, involving whether corn should be boiled or done on the grill, or, more usually, in the form of the potato poll: white or sweet, wrapped in foil or not, grilled or baked in the oven (I love sweet potatoes, but with hamburgers, I’d always choose white, unwrapped, and grilled) .

Finally, whatever child was around, usually me, would be given a handful of silverware and paper napkins and told to set the table. The redwood picnic set was used as a staging area, but dining was inside, away from the mosquitoes.

Frosted glasses would be filled with my grandfather’s iced tea (a brew that I’ve approximated, but never mastered), or cranberry juice, and then, after a veritable cacaphony of conversation, of requests for medium, rare, well done, of near-catastrophes, and squeezing together of chairs, dinner would commence.

And every time, I’d be asked to specify the burger I wanted.
And every time, the adults would assume that because I was a child, and a girl, I’d want something medium, or more.
And every time, I’d choose rare.

My love of those summer dinners has morphed into my present-day love of the burger itself. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about grilled beef, melted cheese, a little mustard, onion, and a toasted Kaiser roll (in my world, lettuce does not belong on burgers, but in salad, and wimpy rolls are not welcome).

Is it a primal urge, hearkening back to humankind’s existence as hunter-gatherers?

Or is it just that the flavor combination speaks to my palate in worshipful words?

I’m not sure I’ll ever know, but it doesn’t matter.
What does matter, is how I’ll have my next burger cooked:
Rare.

::Rebel Without a Cause::

Onesome: Rebel– Hey, are you considered a rebel in any areas? Yeah? Like how, man? (…or not? Maybe you are one of the conforming types?)
I think I’m a pretty typical Nothern Californan – fiscally conservative, socially liberal. I’m not into organized religion, sports or casseroles, and I’ve done patient escort at women’s clinics, but none of that is particularly rebellious.

Twosome: Without– Hmmm… What have you done without lately that you could use a little of? Sunshine? A break from schoolwork? Housework? Kids?
Work imploded about three weeks ago, and I haven’t had time to hit the gym since the 12th of March. I’m caught up atm, and hopefully will be able to go on Monday, but, I’m surprised that I miss it, because I’d barely started.

Also, my long stretch of going home at three is over, and I’m working full days again, and MORE, and I find I miss the couple of hours of alone-time I had between the end of my day, and the end of Fuzzy’s.

Threesome: a Cause– …and just ’cause’ it’s the type of thing we ask: are you getting away for Easter/Spring break or is the usual routine in effect?

I’m staying home, though we have plans to hit the beach and the zoo next weekend, but half my office will be away for the week.