Use your words

Is it possible to live in a world without acronyms? I’m a government contractor; my whole workday is filled with alphabet soup. The business world in general uses them all the time, and it’s everywhere in software, so even if I weren’t in the government contracting business, I don’t think I could escape acronyms. Maybe I can avoid them when I’m not talking about work.  Would I sound like the biggest weirdo if I pronounced whole words instead of acronyms?*

[Big pause: I fell down the Google rabbit hole and learned some things.]

Things I didn’t know before this morning’s googling:

  • Acronyms are only acronyms if you can pronounce them as a word (like NATO). If you’re just saying the letters in order (like FBI), it’s an initialism.
  • Initialism is a word (and its plural is initialisms). Who knew?  Microsoft’s spellcheck does not agree that it’s a word, but the internet says otherwise, and I know that the internet is always right.
  • When you say the whole word (or phrase or proper name or whatever), all spelled out (like I’m considering doing), you’re saying the expansion of the acronym. I didn’t know that was a thing! I mean, obviously it’s a thing. I just didn’t know it had a word (expansion).

And all of this started because I was wondering if I would have to say television instead of TV, so I googled to see if TV was an acronym. Answer: No, it’s an abbreviation.  (I suppose it could be an initialism, but it’s short for one word, not two….it’s debatable, I guess, but now I am equipped for the debate.)

Back to my original point: I am tired of acronyms (and initialisms), and I’m going to try to avoid them in all non-work situations.  I have no idea if this is going to be difficult.  How many do I run into on a daily basis?  What’s much more likely (than success) is that I’ll have forgotten about this plan by morning.

*Will I sound like a weirdo?  It depends (and probably, yes).  If I spell out – I mean, if I use the expansion of sonar or laser, then I will be very much the weirdo.  Zip code is a sneaky one.  And PIN.  This probably won’t last.

Sometimes you feel like a nut

(Now I want an Almond Joy.)

A friend at work asked me what kind of degrees my interns usually have (or are working on).  Most of them (I’m including interviewees, too) are IT-related, but I’m considering hiring a guy with a sociology degree and a minor in religious studies.  I told my friend that; his response was to tell me I shouldn’t hire another religious nut. (He was clearly joking – no need to be outraged on anyone’s behalf.)

“Having a minor in religious studies does not make him a religious nut.  Wait.  “Another” religious nut?”

“Yeah, like yourself.”

“How, exactly, am I a religious nut?”

“You don’t celebrate Christmas.  Or decorate.”

“I’m an atheist.”

“My point!”

“Are you kidding me?  That might make me an anti-religious nut.  But I’m not militant or anything.”

“I didn’t say you were militant.  Just a nut.”

It was a ridiculous conversation, but there you have it.  I am a nut.

My evil twin returns!

I’d completely forgotten about my evil twin, but she made an appearance at work the other day.  I was typing my name and didn’t realize my right hand was shifted one key to the left when, like a cobra, she struck!  There, in black and white on the screen, I saw her name:

Zabbag

What is she doing here?  What nasty tricks will she play on me this time?  Will she insert a paragraph of gibberish into our product’s installation instructions?  Will she hit Reply All on a company-wide email  when I only meant to reply to the sender?  Will she sign that email “Love, Zannah” and click Send before I can catch it?

I won’t let her!  Instead, I’ll spend the rest of the day second-guessing everything I type, slowing down to make sure I feel the ridge on the J key under my right pointer finger (Forefinger?  Why can’t I remember what that finger is called?).  Sure, I won’t be as productive, and yes, I’ll be constantly distracted, looking over my shoulder when I feel her hovering nearby.  But that won’t affect my work, right?  Right?

Drat.  She wins.  I can hear her laughing.

How many laptops do you think I need?

I picked today to unsubscribe from all those marketing emails I get every day.  Most were easy – I don’t need to get emails from FansEdge, an online store I ordered something from once and then promptly canceled the order.  I suffered a pang or two over a couple (like Lucky Brand – love those jeans, but I’m not in the market right now.  Unless they start to sell boot cut jeans that aren’t giant flared bellbottoms.  I’m looking for actual boot cut jeans.).  The one I really don’t understand is Lenovo.  I keep getting emails from them.  I bought my laptop from them in December (which is why I’m getting the emails, I know), but AFTER that, they immediately began sending me marketing emails about laptops.  Guys, I JUST bought a laptop from you.  I no longer need one.  I’m not going to buy one.  Back off!

Sunflower

It sounds a little…hippie? flower child-ish? new age-y? pretentious? something…to compare myself to a sunflower, but I’m going to.  Because I love the sun.  Sunshine.  I don’t worship the sun in the I-must-be-tan-all-the-time way (I am very pale and I have come to (mostly) embrace it), but I like to be in warm sun patches.  Like a dog or a cat.  I follow the sun that way.  Like a sunflower!  Except sunflowers don’t move when the sunny patches move.  They just turn…okay, this is falling apart.  Mostly what I mean is that I’m much happier when the sun is shining.  And much MUCH happier when the sun is shining and it’s at least semi-warm outside.  (THAT’S how cold this winter has been: 54 degrees and super-windy counts as semi-warm.)  I don’t drift into depression in the cold and the dark (SAD is a thing, but I don’t think I have it, at least not in a serious way), but a sunny day can cause a shift in my mood that I didn’t even know it needed.  I’m sure that’s true of most people – I’m not special in any way here.  Who couldn’t love a sunny day?  Besides John.  I mean, he likes sunny days, but he’s the only person I know who prefers clouds and overcast days.  And he REALLY doesn’t like heavy, humid heat.  We could never live in Florida.  (This is not a problem for me – I don’t particularly want to live in Florida, either.  Visiting for a while, though…that’s okay.  Especially if Disney World is involved.  I would like to live in Disney World.  Because I am a pretty pretty princess.)

Hm.  I think I’m going to end all of my blog posts that way.  Anyway, I am sitting on my bed in the apartment, in a patch of sunlight, all windows open (to get rid of the smell of fajitas from last night), and I am very happy.  Also, I am a pretty pretty princess.

What a difference a mortgage makes

It’s amazing how much more relaxed I feel now that we’ve closed on the house.  It’s noticeable, apparently.  Several people at work have commented on it.  I was stressed about not having a contract on the house.  Then we got a contract, and I was stressed about our buyers not having a contract.  Then they got a contract, and I was stressed about packing and moving and timing and holding both deals together until closing.  That’s all over, we’re 100% moved, and I have fewer things to be stressed about.  It’s a wonderful thing.  AND I don’t have to worry about looking for a new job for a while.  Even better.  AND AND spring is coming.  It’s warmer, the days are longer, the sun is out, the birds are chirping* – I should stop before I jinx everything.

*Someone said that yesterday (the birds are chirping), and another coworker told us that her dad always said “the chirds are burping”.  Ruined forever (you’re welcome).  He also calls a parking spot a “sparking pot”, and it has rubbed off on her.  Dads are annoying that way, Dad.  Anyone: “What’s today?”  Me: “Friday.  Unless it rains.”  I do it EVERY TIME.

It’s the little things

I am not going to talk about the weather, even though it’s snowing.  I suppose it’s February, and snow should be allowed in February, but John and I had really hoped we’d be out of the house before we had to shovel again.  With 5 to 8 inches in the forecast, shoveling is almost certainly in our future.  On the plus side, it’s likely we’ll be working from home tomorrow.

Our neighbor has been over here twice today.  They don’t have any water (he thinks the meter is frozen), and the water people haven’t shown up yet.  He’s been here filling a big cooler with water from our sink.  I’m not entirely sure what the water is for, actually.  His wife has already gone to their daughter’s house, but someone has to be around when the water people show up, so he’s still here.  I offered up our shower – no idea if he’s going to take me up on that offer.

Update from John: the water is probably to fill the toilet tanks.

I started a new book at the gym this morning – it’s an evil take on Peter Pan.  The prologue sucked me in.  I hope it holds up.

Update on the neighbor (because I know you’re dying to hear): their water is back on.  They’re unlikely to need our shower now.  Thank goodness.

I was productive today (kind of), so I’m going to forgive myself my afternoon of The Vampire Diaries (I only watched two episodes).  I slept through boxing, but then I had breakfast with John (not really productive, but I was out of the house), then I went to the store (we’re COOKING tonight!  And tomorrow!), then I went to the gym, then I cleaned the house and started laundry and helped my neighbor – twice!  And I rolled up all my boxing wraps.  (I might be reaching a little.)

John just got home.  We have no intention of being productive again (except for cooking dinner), and we finally finished the last few episodes of How I Met Your Mother last night, so we’re starting at the beginning of Futurama.  We always need a good half-hour show in our back pocket.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls

We had a plumbing issue about a month ago (leaking pipe), and to fix it, the plumber had to cut some holes in the wall along the stairs and the ceiling above the front hall.  The contractors are here today to repair the drywall and paint, so I’m working from home in the dining room.  I just walked into the kitchen to reheat my coffee, and I realized that I have been sealed in.  Because they’re going to paint the ceiling in the front hall, they have closed off the doorways from kitchen to front hall and living room to front hall with a big sheet of plastic and some tape.  I’m feeling closed in all of a sudden, claustrophobic despite having at least 700 square feet available to me and a back door to get outside if I have to.  What if I have to go to the bathroom? I CAN’T GET TO ANY OF THE BATHROOMS!!!

I guess I could go out the back door, go around, and come back in the front.  But I DON’T HAVE SHOES!!!  WHATEVER WILL I DO?!?

I’ll start with cutting out the coffee, for sure.

Two things you need to know

1. The bread pudding at Ford’s Fish Shack is really really good.  White chocolate and blueberries and some sort of delicious sauce and vanilla ice cream and WOW.  We split one tonight, in honor of our delayed anniversary dinner.  Also, their crab cakes are good.  Also, they’re crazy popular.  The first reservation I could get for tonight (I called at 4pm) was at 9pm.  So instead of waiting, we ate early (like before 5) because we’re old married people.  But dude – it was good.

2. Friends is on Netflix now!  I mentioned it to my esthetician (I had a facial last night), and she got so excited.  We spent the last half-hour of my appointment quoting our favorite lines and giggling like idiots.  It was fun.

It’s the most bakingful time of the year

It’s that time again, kiddies.  Time to bake ALL the cookies.  138 of them, to be exact (although it’s 137  now – we ate one).  Not as many as last year, somehow.  Did I bake bigger cookies?  Or did John eat more batter?  Anyway, the cookies are cooling, and two more sweet potato pies are in the oven.  The toffee bark and peppermint bark get made tomorrow (they’re way easier – melt, mix, freeze, break into pieces).

We’ve determined that we are NOT going to the mall tomorrow.  It would have been just for fun, anyway, since we’re done with the shopping, but why make the trip if we really don’t have to?  No open house tomorrow (we’re taking the next couple of weeks off, although we’re available for showings, of course), so we don’t have to scramble to clean up or disappear.  It’ll be great.  We can sleep in, wrap some presents, leave the house if we feel like it…  That works for me.

We watched Knights of Badassdom last night.  Mom, you’ll hate it.  Don’t bother.  Same goes for you, Margaret.  Everyone else who hangs out around here would probably enjoy it (if you haven’t already seen it – I’m looking at you, Randy.  You’ve seen it, haven’t you?), silly as it is.  Full disclosure – it’s about LARPing.  And there go Mom and Margaret.  Bye, guys!  We still love you!

It was fun, and we liked it.  Great review, right?  That’s what they pay me for.  Except for the paying part.  And the “they” part.  There’s no “they”.

I can’t be funny on purpose

I’m pretty sure it’s common knowledge to you people that I can’t tell a joke.  I’m terrible at it.  I laugh through them, get the details wrong, and I almost always screw up the punch line.  Every once in a while, I start with the punch line.  I have to practice before I can do it, and by the time I’m ready, the moment’s gone.  So I generally don’t tell jokes.  I need to expand that personal rule to include relating funny incidents.  I was SURE the lines that had me laughing ’til I cried over lunch yesterday were objectively funny, and that John would appreciate that when I told him the story.  And you know?  If ANYone else had told him the story, he probably would have laughed, too.  But I SUCK at it.  It was something to do with a guy from eastern Europe or Russia or somewhere who bench-pressed cows instead of lifting weights and how he refused to go to a regular gym here, and then a coworker of mine took that idea to its logical conclusion of imagining what that guy would say when offered a gym membership that didn’t include livestock and I SWEAR it was hilarious, but honestly, what I just wrote is pretty much the best I can do.  You’re not laughing, are you?

Update: John objected.  He says he promised me he would laugh when I told him the story.  He did.  But it was a fake laugh.  A pity laugh.  Doesn’t count.

Going a little batty

I need to get my eyes checked.  Or maybe I just need a vacation from work.  Or maybe both.  I was logged in to a database at work, looking for which columns in which tables hold the data I need, and I saw a column called BATCHID.  No exaggeration – it took me a full 30 seconds to identify that column as “Batch ID”, not “bat child”.  I was sitting at my desk, almost scratching my head in confusion over why on EARTH we had a column to store data about bat children.  Was it a joke?  Did “BAT” stand for something and this is child data of some sort?  I’ve worked here for nearly five years – how could I have never heard of it?  Eventually, the light bulb came on, and now I feel stupid, but man – I was really puzzled for a bit there.

What am I missing?

You know what I don’t understand?  Vests.  Not the sweater vest or leather vest (although those, too).  I’m talking about outerwear here.  The puffy kind or the quilted kind – it doesn’t matter.

puffy vest

quilted vest

I don’t understand the point.  Under what circumstances would I want warmth and protection from the elements for my body but not my arms?  My arms get just as cold, if not colder, than the rest of me.  I guess I’ve just never been in the right situation, but I really cannot imagine what that situation might be.  When I run in the cold, I certainly start out in need of body and arm warmth, and I’ve never felt that my arms warm up before the rest of me.  When it’s time to lose the outer layer (if I ever warm up that much), it’s not just my arms that are overheated.  And I’ve really never had hot arms just walking around outside.  The whole idea sounds ridiculous.

Is this a fashion thing I don’t understand?  ‘Cause there are lots of those.  I mean, check this one out:

riding

Does this one even close, tiny as she is?  And what’s up with those gloves?  Honestly – I need someone to explain this to me.  The whole vest thing, not just the oddity in that last picture.

I’ve made no promises!

I just checked, and it turns out I didn’t actually publicly declare my intention to post something here every day in November (my version of NaNoWriMo, which, turns out, is an actual thing, as I discovered by reading Ms. Wombat’s blog).  And it’s good that I didn’t publicly declare my intention because I’ve already failed, having skipped Sunday the 2nd.  So let’s just say I didn’t even privately declare any such intention and move on.  Nothing to see here.  Except when I post something.  Which will happen every once in a while.  “Every once in a while” might look a bit like “every day”, but let’s not raise expectations.  Expectations lead to obligation.  I don’t want any more obligations.

Everything gets in the way

Things have been busy.  And stressful.  And sometimes, even when I have time to myself in the evenings, I’m so worn out from EVERYTHING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED EVER that I can’t do anything but sit on the couch and watch Scrubs.  Sometimes I can stretch my brain far enough for Mad Men, but that doesn’t happen as often as it should.  So I haven’t been here.  And I’ve been trying not to feel guilty about it.  I feel guilty about other things – no, not guilty (not about everything, but definitely about some things).  Responsible.  And that’s tiring.  Weighs me down.  So I let this go.  Not writing doesn’t hurt anybody.  I let other things go, like book club.  We were reading good books (most of the time), but fitting in the time to go to the meetings turned into another responsibility, another obligation.  I have other obligations, ones that are more important to me, so I let that one go.  I’m tired of ignoring my friends (hi, friends!).  What other things can I let go of?  Selling the house ought to open up some time (no more open houses every single weekend), but then moving will take over with all the packing that entails.  But then we move.  Will free time appear the way we hope it will?  Emily’s wedding will be past us soon – that should free up some weekends.

So am I back?  I’ll try.  But it might be at the expense of other things.  I don’t like having to choose.

Wanna feel better?  Visit the Bloggess’s Pinterest page.  Some highlights:

 

 

 

 

And…you’re welcome.

 

And now I feel old

I was helping a friend from work with her resume the other day, and she mentioned that she was just doing admin stuff for a couple of years after school, and I gestured to the end date of that section in 2007 and said, “so this is right around graduation?” with the intention of telling her that this probably doesn’t need to be included unless it’s directly relevant to the job she’s applying for, and she said, yes, for high school.  And then I stopped helping her.

Okay, I didn’t stop helping her, but I did pause to feel old.  She’s TEN YEARS younger than me.  What am I, her mentor?  Oh, god, what if I’m her mentor?  I thought we were friends…

I’m not a weirdo, I swear

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but we live in the very definition of suburbia.  Cookie cutter homes, sidewalks, kids, schools, playgrounds, the same shopping centers with the same grocery stores every two blocks.  Completely developed, practically overdeveloped, and looking to do more.  So imagine my surprise when I see two people riding horses on the bike trail overpass near the house.  Who’s got horses around here?  And where on earth do they keep them?  And will they be my friends?  I should have abandoned the car and chased them down.  Because you know how much they’d want to be my friends if I did that.