hullcloth.com - warped woofing

Warped Woofing loose threads, fabrications, purls of wisdom and other belabored puns baste on my adventures in real life
in loving, laughing memory of JRW `@-->---` feed me go home: hullcloth.com just who do i think i am: cut from hull cloth previous woofing: fellow babblers: Greetings from Evanston, Ill. Big Dump Truck Driver's Log Pet Rock Star Brian's Daily Rant Spam-O-Matic Curious Furious torasan04's Journal Answer Girl DC Metro Blog Map misc-ing links: hullcloth.com Top5 Pets The Accidental Guitarist Close But No Guitar Style Invitational Losers The Top Five List Ruminations bradsimanek.com	Thursday, April 29, 2004 Sticktoitiveness When I moved from my old office to my new a few weeks back I made sure to un-stick and bring along with me a few items stuck to my monitor. The bulk of these are frivolous yet somehow vital decorations -- like my sticker with SpongeBob SquarePants playing a ukulele -- but the one item that is actually useful to me (and that I nearly left behind) in fact came in handy yesterday. I was called upon to help a procrastinating person pull together some numbers from an Excel spreadsheet and plug them into a PowerPoint chart for a meeting that was scheduled to begin within the hour. Other than his timing, which brought to mind the saying "Lack of planning on your part does not constitute emergency on my part," I was happy to oblige, since assisting/instructing users in the art of software manipulation is part of my job. However, one of the things this person wanted help with was not so much an application thing as a math thing: i.e. determine what percent of certain values in a column constituted what percent of the total number of values in the range. Isolating and counting unique values is a cinch, but I would have despaired of my ability to provide percentage help in a timely and heroic manner had it not been for the tiny scrap of paper taped right below eye level on my monitor that provides the key to sussing out such mysteries: part/whole = %/100. 100% grateful shout-out to friend and math geek Marty for providing same to me in the first place, several years ago. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 4:22 PM Wednesday, April 28, 2004 Note to self: When pushing hard on the bottom of the stubbornly sticking handle of cheap umbrella in a attempt to force it to collapse, hold it away from your ample bosom. When that handle finally yields, you run a high risk of pinching a highly sensitive bit of anatomy. Again. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:30 AM Saturday, April 24, 2004 Random excess memory The current high pollen count and attendant nose-blowing reminds me of a story that still makes me giggle when I think of it. The background: In the mid-80s I was in France, living with a French family in the Loire Valley. Madame Méron augmented the income she got from gouging room and board out of foreign students by babysitting a 3-year-old boy and his infant sister during the day. Le petit Christopher and I got to be good buddies and when I came home from class we'd sit in the salle de séjour (no, that's NOT the bathroom) and look at his farm animal picture book together. Our game was that he was teaching me the names of animals so I would point to a picture of a horse, for example, and ask "C'est quoi, ca?" and he would respond in a singsongy voice "C'est un che-VAL". I'd point at a pig and he'd sing "C'est un cooooo-CHON". Too damn cute. The story: That year another American student and I spent one of the November long holiday weekends in Avignon with an aim to shop, dance on the bridge, and shop. We saw some hand-carved wooden animal figures in an outdoor market stall and my friend picked out a sheep for her nephew back in the States, whereupon in my best petit Christopher singsongy voice I said "C'est un mooooou-TON!" It cracked us both up and for the rest of the trip whenever we saw anything sheep-related - which for some reason was a lot of stuff - we would sing "C'est un moooooou-TON!" On the train ride back to Tours we sat in the bar car sipping straight Scotch to ward off the head colds we were both coming down with. My friend pulled out a tissue to dab at her runny nose. I laughed and sang a la petit Christopher: "C'est un moooooou-CHOIR!". This made us laugh so hard we both ended up needing a mouchoir because Scotch was coming out of our noses. Which does wonders for the sinuses but I don't recommend it. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 12:36 PM Monday, April 19, 2004 Zero degrees and nine years of separation The temperature reached 91 degrees here today. Only one other time since I moved here in 1987 can I remember its being that hot in April. The exact date was, coincidentally, April 19, 1995. No, I'm not gifted with that keen of a memory, nor am I a weather nerd. A nerd, yes absolutely, just not meteorogically so. I happen to remember that on that particular day I had to drive to a meeting in another part of town and found myself having to turn up the radio so I could hear over the first-time-that-season air conditioner noise reports of the Oklahoma City bombing. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:24 PM Thursday, April 15, 2004 Just plain nuts Forty cents a pound extra for already-shelled pistachios seemed a reasonable tradeoff for easy cleanup and no fingernail wear-and-tear so I gave in and treated myself to a bag at Trader Joe's a few days ago. Where the equivalent-sized bag of in-the-shell nuts would be finished by now, all but a few handsful of these remain untouched. I'm all for luxury, being pampered and so forth, but I've learned that pistachio nutmeats simply don't taste as divine if I haven't had to work for them. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 9:57 PM Wednesday, April 14, 2004 Early is later than you think As I went to take the trash out this morning, I espied something through the front door window that I have never before witnessed in all of my 43 years. There was a bird at the foot of the front stoop snarfing up a worm, the hapless latter flooded out of its home due to several days' worth of April showers. It got the worm so what could I conclude but that this was the proverbial Early Bird. Alert the National Bureau of Standards or whoever keeps track of these things: according to my observation, "early" is officially 8:46 a.m. A prideful gender note: the bird was a lady cardinal. You go, girl! Dux Femina Facti. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 9:49 AM Monday, April 12, 2004 Sour notes Today for the first time in a while I had time to drop in on a certain humor writers' chat list. A major thread had to do with some members' Easter traditions of listening to or watching versions of "Jesus Christ Superstar" and "Godspell". Most of the participants, ranging somewhere between mid-20s to mid-40s, were familiar with both and named favorite versions. Then along comes Mr. Music Snob who pooh-poohs both, and by extension their fans, by tossing out a term like "pop claptrap" and haughtily naming the Baroque composition he and his family enjoyed on Sunday. Now see here: I'm all for diversity and a person's right to their opinion, but don't be dissing someone for the music they happen to like. And whatever you do, don't assume that's the only music they like. Even if it is, as long as they don't impose it on you, what's the deal? (I say this realizing I have in the past been guilty of same. Er, no saint like a reformed sinner?) Me, I didn't weigh in on the discussion, but as it happens I like both musicals and own versions of each in various flavors of audio and video. I also happen to like classical music, albeit as an occasional change of pace, not a mainstream choice. Both JCS and Godspell came out when I was a pre-teen; listening to or watching them now evoke a strong sense of that time and place in my life. Are you sitting down? I sometimes listen to bubblegummy stuff like Melanie and The Archies for the very same reason. It's part of my lifetime soundtrack, not by any means the only type of music I listen to. I pretty much always have music happening in the car, at work and at home; the genres vary depending on my mood. Yesterday found me listening to a religion-themed playlist in my MP3 collection. Selections ranged from the pop hit "Spirit in the Sky" to soul-stirring gospel pieces by Mahalia Jackson, The Staple Singers, The Five Blind Boys of Alabama and, yes, The Soul Stirrers. So there. The point is: sometimes you want a fancy meal, other times junk food hits the spot. So back off, music snob dude. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 6:00 PM Saturday, April 10, 2004 A run or the money This past week my radio station of choice has been conducting two different call-in contests. One offers a prize of $10,000, the other a spot in an upcoming 10k "Fun Run". As much as I could use the ten grand, I'm staying far away from my phone lest I win the wrong one. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 6:57 PM Thursday, April 08, 2004 Sometimes it is better to receive I accept that one of my gifts is the ability to make others laugh with quick quips that often come to me as easily as my next breath. So I appreciate it all the more when other similarly gifted people cross my path. Like this person who called the help desk the other day: Caller: "I am unable to reach outside web pages." Me: "Yes, there is a connectivity problem. It is being investigated." [Background: This is an ongoing issue w/the provider. Connectivity gets iffy when it's cloudy, bright, windy, etc.] Caller: "Anything I can do in the meantime?" Me: "Think happy thoughts." Caller: "Ok: There's no place like homepage... there's no place like homepage..." Me: (belly laugh) this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:02 PM Sunday, April 04, 2004 Update Good My car is up and running. I have wonderful friends. I will soon have my old IT training job back. Bonus: I will have my old IT training job back without having to answer Help Desk calls as well. I will also be away from management that cares more about barking at employees to pick scraps of paper up off the floor than they do about seeing that those employees get tools they need to do their jobs, such as headsets for those who answer the phone all the time. My niece or nephew to-be is doing well, as are its parents. Bad Car repairs were of course pricey. The automotive malfunction made me miss most of the party honoring the Czar. By the time I arrived he had left. The caterers were packing up but agreed to let me lick the dishes first -- I was famished. My phone's gone kerflooey again. Incoming calls are shunted directly to voice mail and the line appears dead when I pick it up. This happened once before and cleared up in a few days in spite of the phone company's insistence that a site visit was the only way to deal with it. (Good news: the DSL connection works!) Ugly Dad's hospitalized for at least the next several weeks. He's had a series of small strokes and is at high risk for another. He and the rest of my family are in Cleveland and I'm in Virginia, about to start a job where I'm my own boss -- if I don't work I don't get paid. Taking time off to visit is going to be tricky. this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 7:13 PM
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Warped Woofing

loose threads, fabrications, purls of wisdom and other belabored puns baste on my adventures in real life

in loving, laughing memory of
JRW @-->---

feed me

go home:
hullcloth.com

just who do i think i am:
cut from hull cloth

previous woofing:

fellow babblers:
Greetings from Evanston, Ill.
Big Dump Truck Driver's Log
Pet Rock Star
Brian's Daily Rant
Spam-O-Matic
Curious Furious
torasan04's Journal
Answer Girl
DC Metro Blog Map

misc-ing links:
hullcloth.com
Top5 Pets
The Accidental Guitarist
Close But No Guitar
Style Invitational Losers
The Top Five List
Ruminations
bradsimanek.com

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Sticktoitiveness

When I moved from my old office to my new a few weeks back I made sure to un-stick and bring along with me a few items stuck to my monitor. The bulk of these are frivolous yet somehow vital decorations -- like my sticker with SpongeBob SquarePants playing a ukulele -- but the one item that is actually useful to me (and that I nearly left behind) in fact came in handy yesterday.

I was called upon to help a procrastinating person pull together some numbers from an Excel spreadsheet and plug them into a PowerPoint chart for a meeting that was scheduled to begin within the hour. Other than his timing, which brought to mind the saying "Lack of planning on your part does not constitute emergency on my part," I was happy to oblige, since assisting/instructing users in the art of software manipulation is part of my job. However, one of the things this person wanted help with was not so much an application thing as a math thing: i.e. determine what percent of certain values in a column constituted what percent of the total number of values in the range. Isolating and counting unique values is a cinch, but I would have despaired of my ability to provide percentage help in a timely and heroic manner had it not been for the tiny scrap of paper taped right below eye level on my monitor that provides the key to sussing out such mysteries: part/whole = %/100.

100% grateful shout-out to friend and math geek Marty for providing same to me in the first place, several years ago.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 4:22 PM

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Note to self:

When pushing hard on the bottom of the stubbornly sticking handle of cheap umbrella in a attempt to force it to collapse, hold it away from your ample bosom. When that handle finally yields, you run a high risk of pinching a highly sensitive bit of anatomy. Again.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:30 AM

Saturday, April 24, 2004

Random excess memory

The current high pollen count and attendant nose-blowing reminds me of a story that still makes me giggle when I think of it.

The background: In the mid-80s I was in France, living with a French family in the Loire Valley. Madame Méron augmented the income she got from gouging room and board out of foreign students by babysitting a 3-year-old boy and his infant sister during the day. Le petit Christopher and I got to be good buddies and when I came home from class we'd sit in the salle de séjour (no, that's NOT the bathroom) and look at his farm animal picture book together. Our game was that he was teaching me the names of animals so I would point to a picture of a horse, for example, and ask "C'est quoi, ca?" and he would respond in a singsongy voice "C'est un che-VAL". I'd point at a pig and he'd sing "C'est un cooooo-CHON". Too damn cute.

The story: That year another American student and I spent one of the November long holiday weekends in Avignon with an aim to shop, dance on the bridge, and shop. We saw some hand-carved wooden animal figures in an outdoor market stall and my friend picked out a sheep for her nephew back in the States, whereupon in my best petit Christopher singsongy voice I said "C'est un mooooou-TON!" It cracked us both up and for the rest of the trip whenever we saw anything sheep-related - which for some reason was a lot of stuff - we would sing "C'est un moooooou-TON!" On the train ride back to Tours we sat in the bar car sipping straight Scotch to ward off the head colds we were both coming down with. My friend pulled out a tissue to dab at her runny nose. I laughed and sang a la petit Christopher: "C'est un moooooou-CHOIR!". This made us laugh so hard we both ended up needing a mouchoir because Scotch was coming out of our noses.

Which does wonders for the sinuses but I don't recommend it.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 12:36 PM

Monday, April 19, 2004

Zero degrees and nine years of separation

The temperature reached 91 degrees here today. Only one other time since I moved here in 1987 can I remember its being that hot in April. The exact date was, coincidentally, April 19, 1995. No, I'm not gifted with that keen of a memory, nor am I a weather nerd. A nerd, yes absolutely, just not meteorogically so. I happen to remember that on that particular day I had to drive to a meeting in another part of town and found myself having to turn up the radio so I could hear over the first-time-that-season air conditioner noise reports of the Oklahoma City bombing.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:24 PM

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Just plain nuts

Forty cents a pound extra for already-shelled pistachios seemed a reasonable tradeoff for easy cleanup and no fingernail wear-and-tear so I gave in and treated myself to a bag at Trader Joe's a few days ago. Where the equivalent-sized bag of in-the-shell nuts would be finished by now, all but a few handsful of these remain untouched. I'm all for luxury, being pampered and so forth, but I've learned that pistachio nutmeats simply don't taste as divine if I haven't had to work for them.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 9:57 PM

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Early is later than you think

As I went to take the trash out this morning, I espied something through the front door window that I have never before witnessed in all of my 43 years. There was a bird at the foot of the front stoop snarfing up a worm, the hapless latter flooded out of its home due to several days' worth of April showers. It got the worm so what could I conclude but that this was the proverbial Early Bird. Alert the National Bureau of Standards or whoever keeps track of these things: according to my observation, "early" is officially 8:46 a.m.

A prideful gender note: the bird was a lady cardinal. You go, girl! Dux Femina Facti.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 9:49 AM

Monday, April 12, 2004

Sour notes

Today for the first time in a while I had time to drop in on a certain humor writers' chat list. A major thread had to do with some members' Easter traditions of listening to or watching versions of "Jesus Christ Superstar" and "Godspell". Most of the participants, ranging somewhere between mid-20s to mid-40s, were familiar with both and named favorite versions. Then along comes Mr. Music Snob who pooh-poohs both, and by extension their fans, by tossing out a term like "pop claptrap" and haughtily naming the Baroque composition he and his family enjoyed on Sunday.

Now see here: I'm all for diversity and a person's right to their opinion, but don't be dissing someone for the music they happen to like. And whatever you do, don't assume that's the only music they like. Even if it is, as long as they don't impose it on you, what's the deal? (I say this realizing I have in the past been guilty of same. Er, no saint like a reformed sinner?)

Me, I didn't weigh in on the discussion, but as it happens I like both musicals and own versions of each in various flavors of audio and video. I also happen to like classical music, albeit as an occasional change of pace, not a mainstream choice.

Both JCS and Godspell came out when I was a pre-teen; listening to or watching them now evoke a strong sense of that time and place in my life. Are you sitting down? I sometimes listen to bubblegummy stuff like Melanie and The Archies for the very same reason. It's part of my lifetime soundtrack, not by any means the *only* type of music I listen to. I pretty much always have music happening in the car, at work and at home; the genres vary depending on my mood. Yesterday found me listening to a religion-themed playlist in my MP3 collection. Selections ranged from the pop hit "Spirit in the Sky" to soul-stirring gospel pieces by Mahalia Jackson, The Staple Singers, The Five Blind Boys of Alabama and, yes, The Soul Stirrers. So there.

The point is: sometimes you want a fancy meal, other times junk food hits the spot. So back off, music snob dude.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 6:00 PM

Saturday, April 10, 2004

A run or the money

This past week my radio station of choice has been conducting two different call-in contests. One offers a prize of $10,000, the other a spot in an upcoming 10k "Fun Run". As much as I could use the ten grand, I'm staying far away from my phone lest I win the wrong one.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 6:57 PM

Thursday, April 08, 2004

Sometimes it is better to receive

I accept that one of my gifts is the ability to make others laugh with quick quips that often come to me as easily as my next breath. So I appreciate it all the more when other similarly gifted people cross my path. Like this person who called the help desk the other day:

Caller: "I am unable to reach outside web pages."

Me: "Yes, there is a connectivity problem. It is being investigated."

[Background: This is an ongoing issue w/the provider. Connectivity gets iffy when it's cloudy, bright, windy, etc.]

Caller: "Anything I can do in the meantime?"

Me: "Think happy thoughts."

Caller: "Ok: There's no place like homepage... there's no place like homepage..."

Me: (belly laugh)

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 10:02 PM

Sunday, April 04, 2004

Update

Good

My car is up and running.

I have wonderful friends.

I will soon have my old IT training job back.

Bonus: I will have my old IT training job back without having to answer Help Desk calls as well. I will also be away from management that cares more about barking at employees to pick scraps of paper up off the floor than they do about seeing that those employees get tools they need to do their jobs, such as headsets for those who answer the phone all the time.

My niece or nephew to-be is doing well, as are its parents.

Bad

Car repairs were of course pricey.

The automotive malfunction made me miss most of the party honoring the Czar. By the time I arrived he had left. The caterers were packing up but agreed to let me lick the dishes first -- I was famished.

My phone's gone kerflooey again. Incoming calls are shunted directly to voice mail and the line appears dead when I pick it up. This happened once before and cleared up in a few days in spite of the phone company's insistence that a site visit was the only way to deal with it. (Good news: the DSL connection works!)

Ugly

Dad's hospitalized for at least the next several weeks. He's had a series of small strokes and is at high risk for another. He and the rest of my family are in Cleveland and I'm in Virginia, about to start a job where I'm my own boss -- if I don't work I don't get paid. Taking time off to visit is going to be tricky.

this piece woven by Sandra Hull @ 7:13 PM

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