Monday, January 25, 2016

Advice Column, The Podcast


Well, we're trying something new today.  My son, Riley, is learning about editing sound and recording humans and so on.  So, we've been recording our typical advice column discussion.  Here's the first one, just to try it out.  It might be too much blah blah blah, and I trust that you'll let us know.  Enjoy.



Sunday, January 24, 2016

"Working" at home


It starts out great.  You roll downstairs and have a cup of coffee while scrolling through Facebook, and just for old time’s sake, you look at the traffic websites, grateful that you aren’t affected.  You look out the window at trees, and think about how lucky you are to just stay in this beautiful setting.  Well, it’s kind of a mess inside, but still, looking out the window is lovely.

You decide that, with all the time saved on commuting, you can throw in a load of laundry before you get started on your work day.  But as you press the detergent pump thing, it doesn’t spring back very quickly.  Is that because of the temperature of the room (60 degrees)? You decide to start a fire, which is good, because it’s the first thing all day that requires you to be fully dressed.  You go outside to get wood, and it seems as though, since you’re already outside, you might as well take a walk.  That way, your mind will be clear and READY FOR WORK.

After your walk, you go back inside and decide you should probably make another cup of coffee before you get started.  While the water is heating, you remember that it’s freakin’ cold in here, and you forgot to bring in wood.  You go back outside to get some wood, and notice a really cool dead spider on a log, so you pull out the microscope to look at it.  You capture a picture of spider teeth, which is amazing, and wonder if it’s weird or creepy or too self-involved to post it to Facebook.  You can’t decide so you do nothing.  

Then you remember your first question of the day, which was, why was the laundry soap pump so slow?  You realize you aren’t 100 percent certain how pumps work, and feel a little embarrassed by that.  Like, if a six-year-old asked you to explain, could you do it?  I mean, you kind of get it, but is it about reduced pressure in one area?  And where does the spring fit in?  So you google it and get lost in some technical answers, and then find one that makes you laugh out loud.


The sound of your own laughter makes you realize that you haven’t heard a human voice in a while, and you wonder if you’re maybe getting a little bit off, turning into that person.

You decide to get to work, and begin doing whatever it is you do.  For some of us, it’s writing the same damn report:  “The site was vegetated with a forested community dominated by Douglas fir, with red alder and western red cedar occurring occasionally.”  You’ve written this sentence so many times that you briefly consider sticking your head in the oven but decide not to because you should probably clean the house first, leave things in a better state.  You google, “sticking your head in an electric oven,” just to learn.  And then, for old time’s sake, read Ariel.  And so on.

This is why we have coworking, people!  You get to go somewhere, hear other human voices, stop obsessing about weird house abnormalities, and have a little companionship.  There’s a herd mentality that works.  Because you’ll notice: Everyone’s working here.  No one is researching confessional poetry or how soap dispensers work.  Me too!  I’m totally one of the herd!
For this reason, I’m grateful to the Tolt Hive Coworking community.  We’re sponsoring a really fun writing workshop, with all proceeds to benefit the Tolt Hive community.  Check it out!

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Horoscopes for the New Year

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I received a text the other day from one of my favorite Pisces; he sent me a photo that demonstrates his prowess with sorting laundry by color.  It was the first text I've ever received about dryer lint, so you can imagine the complicated joy I'm feeling right now.  Pisces, find your own complicated joy this week!  You might have to
look.  

Aries (3/21 - 4/19): One of my [many] problems is that now that I need reading glasses, which is recent, I have trouble reading on my side in bed, the preferred position.  The side bar presses into the side of my head, and the glasses shift upward, away from the eye area.  Is anyone working on this problem?  It seems like a pillow with a cushioned half-pipe embedded for the glasses arm might work.  Can you work on that, Aries?  Because here's what we know:  the only think you have control over is working hard, doing good things, behaving well.  Everything else is out of your hands.  And what could be more important than creating a half-pipe pillow for the reading impaired?
.
Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  While I was searching the internet for glasses though, I came upon these bed prism glasses.  I suppose if you want to lie on your back and hold your arms up in the air for hours at a time, turning page after page while wearing super dorky tortoise shell prisms, well, go for it, but Taurus, they haven't solved the side-lying problem.  Although, for lots of reasons, I am the perfect candidate for the prism glasses.  I know.  Taurus, think about the prism this week, and what it teaches us:  that light is full of color!

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21): I know someone who's been trying to reduce the moisture content in honey that isn't fully cured, which has led me to wonder how to expedite evaporation.  Which factors are more important:  increasing surface area, external temperature, ambient humidity?  Of course that led me to want a chocolate fountain.  Because what's better for increasing surface area than a waterfall made of sticky sweet goo?  Gemini, may your week be all about sweetness and increased surface area.  (Try not to get too sticky.)

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  I looked into chocolate fountains in the usual ways:  E-mailed a list of likely suspects who thought I was planning some sort of chocolate orgy; looked into renting which isn't cheap (Like, $450 for 2.5 hours.  I know!); and finally, Ebay.  Remember when ebay was new and so were beanie babies?  Yeah, me too, but Cancer, that has nothing to do with your horoscope.  I was just bringing you back to that time when we learned that the very first thing you do before you bid on something is check the shipping and handling fees.  I forgot about that, because now we're all Amazon Prime, some nice lady will bring whatever you order to your house for free in like, 15 minutes.  So, I bought a fountain for $17.  Shipping and handling was only $43, but it came immediately, and strangely, it was the same nice Amazon lady.  It came instantly, all the way from Florida, because the seller must know that when you need a chocolate fountain, you can't wait even a minute.  Cancer, don't waste a minute this week on things or people that don't bring you great joy.  This is it, Sistah!

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): So, after first having buyer's remorse about the costly shipping and handling, and the fact that who needs a tacky chocolate fountain, anyway?  Well, Leo, I turned that ship around and decided to own it.  I am that person, the one who may show up at every potluck from this point forward with the fountain.  Leo, look for chances to turn your own ship around when necessary.  Or drive, full speed ahead, when you're on the right track.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  Honeybee males are all fatherless, sadly.  Which is hard to wrap your brain around.  How can a creature involved in sexual reproduction be fatherless?  I have to think about that like, a thousand times a day to keep it straight.  But here's how it goes:  Queen bee goes on one (or maybe a few) mating flights where she hooks up with a bunch of drones (male bees, not Amazon delivery service).  After this, she has enough sperm to last a lifetime.  A short lifetime, but that's all she gets.  She then lays eggs for the rest of her cloistered life.  If she dips into her stash of sperm to fertilize them they grow into female worker bees, but if she doesn't, they grow into drones.  So, the male bee has a grandfather but not a father.  If your week gets complicated or seems to lack mystery, Virgo, come back to this puzzle.  


Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  Do you guys remember chutes?  Am I making this up, or did houses used to have more chutes?  I remember friend's houses with laundry chutes, and there were dumbwaiters in my favorite books, and then when I worked in the Smith Tower, there was a really cool mail chute. (In fact, if you're ever in Seattle and need to mail a letter, I suggest you go up the Smith Tower to do it.  You can hear it dropping all the way down.)  And there were those pneumatic tubes at the bank.  Did we give up on chutes, Libra?  I don't know why we would do that.  This week, Bring Back The Chute!  (And, if you're not to busy, can we get a few bumper stickers, please?)

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  I've been trying to figure out pluperfect, not as a verb tense, but as a state of being.  I think it happens after the complete exhale, when you look back fondly at that one excellent breath that will never occur again.  Do it, Scorpio.  Celebrate with breath. (And, if you need to really celebrate, hit me up, I have a chocolate fountain.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): I woke up a few weeks ago with a back ache, the way I do, and though fer chrissakes, it's time for a new mattress!  And it was, Sag.  I ordered a Casper bed online from my bed, like a shut in. (Practicing, in case it becomes true.) And just like that, poof, a new mattress arrived on my doorstep in the tiniest box imaginable, considering it held a giant mattress.  It was like one of those dinosaurs that you drop into a glass of water, and it grows from tiny to huge.  Exactly like that, but without the water.  Or the dinosaur.  I put it on my bed frame, and it grew in all directions to a full queen size mattress, and I think it might become my best (although a little one-sided) relationship ever.  It doesn't expect a damn thing from me, and is just there, waiting to provide comfort, day and night.  I would totally recommend it.

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19):  I read a review of this book, which I can't wait to read.  One of the points is that so much of our sense of self is tied up in the future, the person we'll become when we get it together, the person we're striving to be.  But eventually, Cap, that sense collides with our mortality.  This is it.  How we behave today is who we are.  Live it, own it, celebrate your good fortune.  

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18) I bought a ticket for the gigantic powerball lottery, and now I'm a little terrified that I'll win.  I think that would ruin my life to come into wads of cash all of the sudden.  That's not what the humans need, Aquarius, and I'm a little sorry I got swept up in the frenzy.  Luckily, the odds are terrible.  

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