redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( Dec. 16th, 2005 10:18 am)
It has been brought to our attention that we've come to take certain oddities for granted. To wit: we've been so bombarded by the Santa Claus story and the stockings hung on the chimney with care, that we've only recently stopped to wonder how in the world people started hanging socks on their walls. —from the Powell's Books newsletter
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redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
( Dec. 16th, 2005 10:18 am)
It has been brought to our attention that we've come to take certain oddities for granted. To wit: we've been so bombarded by the Santa Claus story and the stockings hung on the chimney with care, that we've only recently stopped to wonder how in the world people started hanging socks on their walls. —from the Powell's Books newsletter
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We don't have a transit strike. According to one story I read, we are in fact promised that there won't be one at least until 12:01 a.m. Tuesday. Nonetheless, my boss was concerned that there might be a strike, leaving us "stranded" at work.

She'd be more stranded than I--I could get home, though with annoyance, by commuter rail, and she's in a part of Brooklyn not served by same. (Queens and the Bronx get commuter rail because it goes through them on the way to the suburbs.) So she called around 7:30, leaving a message (I was in the shower) not to come in. There have been times on this project where she handed me three days' worth of work; at the moment, I'm getting things in hour-or-less chunks, so have nothing to do if she's not there.

I could have used today's pay, but I can also use the rest. Thus far, I've gone out with Andy, taken the train as far as 181st Street, bought rye bread, and stopped off on the way home to pick up a package at the post office, and some groceries at the local supermarket. Eggs, frozen peas, that sort of thing.

And [livejournal.com profile] julian_tiger, having kneaded me thoroughly, is now lying on my lap, all curly.
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We don't have a transit strike. According to one story I read, we are in fact promised that there won't be one at least until 12:01 a.m. Tuesday. Nonetheless, my boss was concerned that there might be a strike, leaving us "stranded" at work.

She'd be more stranded than I--I could get home, though with annoyance, by commuter rail, and she's in a part of Brooklyn not served by same. (Queens and the Bronx get commuter rail because it goes through them on the way to the suburbs.) So she called around 7:30, leaving a message (I was in the shower) not to come in. There have been times on this project where she handed me three days' worth of work; at the moment, I'm getting things in hour-or-less chunks, so have nothing to do if she's not there.

I could have used today's pay, but I can also use the rest. Thus far, I've gone out with Andy, taken the train as far as 181st Street, bought rye bread, and stopped off on the way home to pick up a package at the post office, and some groceries at the local supermarket. Eggs, frozen peas, that sort of thing.

And [livejournal.com profile] julian_tiger, having kneaded me thoroughly, is now lying on my lap, all curly.
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redbird: a butterfly, wings folded, resembling the letter V (leaf)
( Dec. 16th, 2005 01:51 pm)
I remember just enough Greek to, before hitting the "post" button on a comment, exclaim "Damn it, that should be dative!" and pull out Liddell-Scott again.
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redbird: a butterfly, wings folded, resembling the letter V (leaf)
( Dec. 16th, 2005 01:51 pm)
I remember just enough Greek to, before hitting the "post" button on a comment, exclaim "Damn it, that should be dative!" and pull out Liddell-Scott again.
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