Unemployment insurance

I think I'm okay here.

I just got a call from a man named Aaron at the New York State Department of Labor. I told him that I don't advertise as a freelance copyeditor/proofreader [1], and that I'm doing a bit of that work for a former employer. He asked what day I generally work, and I explained that it's not a specific day, John contacts me and says something like "are you available Tuesday?" and that in fact I'd worked for them yesterday. I gave him ACM's address, and John Stanik's name and phone number. He asked how I was paid, and I explained it was via a 1099. He advised me that any day I work I have to "certify"--that is, when I say "please give me benefits for week X," I have to count that as a day worked. At the end, he said I should be okay.

[1] It may be that I should, and even that at some point I will again, but right now I'm not.

Unemployment insurance

I think I'm okay here.

I just got a call from a man named Aaron at the New York State Department of Labor. I told him that I don't advertise as a freelance copyeditor/proofreader [1], and that I'm doing a bit of that work for a former employer. He asked what day I generally work, and I explained that it's not a specific day, John contacts me and says something like "are you available Tuesday?" and that in fact I'd worked for them yesterday. I gave him ACM's address, and John Stanik's name and phone number. He asked how I was paid, and I explained it was via a 1099. He advised me that any day I work I have to "certify"--that is, when I say "please give me benefits for week X," I have to count that as a day worked. At the end, he said I should be okay.

[1] It may be that I should, and even that at some point I will again, but right now I'm not.

Spring!

It's March, and the apricot is in bloom!

There is an apricot tree on 207th Street, between the park and the A train, and it's blossoming. So are many daffodils, all over the place; red maples in the park; and suddenly lots of forsythia.

The mourning cloak butterflies are out, and while I was lying on the ground looking at woodpeckers and cardinals and such, a bumblebee buzzed close by. I'm more used to identifying birds by sound than insects, but this one was easy. The neighbors I was lying near—who were there first, and gave me the idea—said that yesterday the park rangers were showing off the bees.

There are lots of mourning doves around, and they seemed to be arguing over the best perching spots on one crowded tree. Chickadees are still here, but I expect they'll be heading north soon.

My neighbor, who is sure it's going to snow again, showed me where she's hidden the cache of birdseed, in case she doesn't feel she can trudge through the snow. (Someone removed the bird feeder she'd hung a couple of months ago in that area.)

After a longish walk in and along the park, I stopped in at the local library; tried the grocery store next to it, decided I didn't like their fish display or complete lack of lamb in the meat department, and went to the one I normally shop at, a bit closer to home.

Several people complimented me on my hair, including a child in the supermarket and a couple who live downstairs from us, who treated it as an appealing sign of Spring and asked me how I'd done it.

Spring!

It's March, and the apricot is in bloom!

There is an apricot tree on 207th Street, between the park and the A train, and it's blossoming. So are many daffodils, all over the place; red maples in the park; and suddenly lots of forsythia.

The mourning cloak butterflies are out, and while I was lying on the ground looking at woodpeckers and cardinals and such, a bumblebee buzzed close by. I'm more used to identifying birds by sound than insects, but this one was easy. The neighbors I was lying near—who were there first, and gave me the idea—said that yesterday the park rangers were showing off the bees.

There are lots of mourning doves around, and they seemed to be arguing over the best perching spots on one crowded tree. Chickadees are still here, but I expect they'll be heading north soon.

My neighbor, who is sure it's going to snow again, showed me where she's hidden the cache of birdseed, in case she doesn't feel she can trudge through the snow. (Someone removed the bird feeder she'd hung a couple of months ago in that area.)

After a longish walk in and along the park, I stopped in at the local library; tried the grocery store next to it, decided I didn't like their fish display or complete lack of lamb in the meat department, and went to the one I normally shop at, a bit closer to home.

Several people complimented me on my hair, including a child in the supermarket and a couple who live downstairs from us, who treated it as an appealing sign of Spring and asked me how I'd done it.