Look me in the eye and tell me

You know things are bad when the brief list you start jotting down of all the things you need to remember to do ends up taking the entire back side of the Starbucks bag that had the apple coffee cake slice you had for lunch, at 2:55 PM, when you suddenly realized you were starving because you hadn't eaten, and weren't in a place to get an appropriate meal, nor did you really have time because you had a 3 PM appointment. And yes, it was decaf.

Getting away with it

As a child, I stuck to a rigid rule - no one was allowed to call me anything but "Jennifer". Absolutely positively, I was Jennifer. Then, in high school, and certainly by college, I was going by Jen. Never ever ever ever was anyone allowed to call me Jenny. My high school tennis coach sometimes called me Jenny and it bothered me no end for a while, I told him off a few times, and then I just gave up. I saw him over the weekend this past week, for the first time in years, and he did not call me Jenny, but it's the first time I've spoken to him as an "adult". And I was struck by how much he reminded me of someone in my life currently. A few hours later, I figured it out. He was reminding me of Allan, one of my senseis. Allan, too, rarely calls me Jen. Recently, he's taken to calling me Jenster. No one else could get away with that. But I'll take Jenny from my high school coach and I can live with Jenster from Allan. I think for both of them, the nicknames are terms of endearment.

Now, I try not to let people call me Jennifer unless they're my parents or other family, still obeying the "you will call me Jennifer and nothing else" rule. But I introduce myself over the phone as Jennifer. More syllables makes for easier first time hearing. Otherwise people think I'm saying Jean, Jan, Gina, a whole host of other things.

Then there was the time at Starbucks when they asked for my name and when they wrote Jen on the cup and the pen slipped, it looked like they'd written Jew! Didn't think I would be outed at a Starbucks, but...

The morning show

Although I hate waking up and getting up, I really like mornings. The air is still cool, the sun is hot, and everything feels fresh. Now that Glen has to get up earlier than me (insert silent happy dance!), I've been waking up earlier too, which means getting to work earlier, which means more time to enjoy the quiet.

I have also discovered a new favorite morning drink at Starbucks, the iced caramel macchiato. This is much better than a hot caramel macchiato for a few reasons. 1) Good to drink cold stuff when it's hot out. 2) Very pretty - they put the milk and thin caramel syrup in first over ice, then pour the espresso on top, so it comes out layered. This makes drinking it a challenge (either you get a mouthful of straight espresso which is kind of bitter, or a good amount of sweet milk), but I like the look of it. 3) The caramel they drizzle on top thickens and becomes slippery little caramel strings. If you can get some of them with a mouthful of espresso (and hopefully a little milk), they kind of melt in your mouth and are a bit salty which is just perfect.

More cellphones than people in Holland

So, according to this story from Engadget, there are more cellphones than people in Holland. I suppose it's the same dubious-type distinction that New Zealand has when it professes to have more sheep than people.

Then again, there are still those few people who keep the U.S. from distinguishing itself that way by refusing to buy a cellphone until it can run their lives, complete with garage door opener, laser pointer, and toaser oven. ;)

Slow dog

You know how sometimes random things just make you really happy? Radio does that to me on occassion. Particularly KEXP. This last hour they've been playing great sets.

Other things that make me happy today:

My calendar. The June picture is very funny. It's a Far Side cartoon, captioned, "In what was destined to be a short-lived spectacle, a chicken, suspended by a balloon, floated through the samurai bar's doorway." Makes no sense. But I enjoy it nonetheless.

The fact that Julie made name tags for each intern's cubicle on the color laser printer. They obviously don't need them; they know where they sit. But still...

You're old too

I have discovered I am turning into my parents. When I was little, my parents used to pack my sister and me into the car, and then go for long drives. Usually, a majority of the time was spent driving REAAAAAALY slowly, looking at houses. They would comment to each other about the houses and various features. As Glen put it, “I can’t imagine something more boring for a kid.” And it was. I hated it. It was terribly boring. And I couldn’t ever figure out what they found so appealing about it. This happened repeatedly, and things only improved when I got a walkman so could listen to music in my headphones and zone out. I remember thinking to myself that I would never ever do this “looking at houses” thing as an adult. How totally dull!!

Well, much to my horror recently, I found that I’m suddenly interested in looking at houses. I want to look at houses. I want to talk about houses. I want to compare houses. I want to see as many houses as I can and talk about their features and imagine what it might be like to live there. And I’m suddenly seeing the appeal of going out with the sole aim of looking at houses.