What a week. Or two. Three, actually.

Hello all,

So this is Mr Renaissance writing this post. Why am I writing this? Mostly because the last few weeks have been rather stressful and dear Eliska hasn't the time or energy to tell this story anymore. So if you'll allow me, I'll be your trusted storyteller for this tale.

It all started in November, when one of the residents of the house (Lucille Two) decided to move out with a month's notice. Which not a big deal in and of itself, but it is where we start.

That same month, the Baker was unable to pay his rent.  He had been laid off from his job at the beloved cupcake store. The Baker had recently ruined several batches of cupcakes at work and had laid the blame on another employee, but the managers unfairly blamed him.

We felt bad for the Baker and assumed his story was true. I had a little suspicion though, as the Baker is a HEAVY HEAVY pot smoker, and frankly, pilfered a lot of stuff from work. So much that I think he was likely fired more for the petty theft than the ruined cupcakes.

So the Baker tells us that he contacted the landlord and would pay the late fee along with his rent later in the month. He also said he would pay the utilities late as well, he was just in a weird place with the paycheck cycles being out of whack with the new job. Sounds believable, right? And he's a nice guy, so we give him the benefit of the doubt.

As the month continues on, the Baker begins openly stealing food and other goods from the house. Frankly, the entire house would gladly help the Baker, if he would ask. Instead he simply steals.

The kicker is that he is CONSTANTLY stoned. Quite literally he smokes from the moment he wakes until the moment he goes to bed. So he can afford pot, but not dog food for his 100lb rottweiler.  This also means he has plenty of time to actually do his household chores each week.  Instead Eliska has to "remind" him if she's in the mood to have them done.  We can all imagine how well this was going over.

As the month wears on, the house has a meeting to discuss the "communal" food to remove any confusion in the Bakers mind.  Unfortunately the Baker doesn't put two and two together and continues to steal food, detergent, dog food and whatever else is in the common areas of the house.

This reaches a tipping point, and between the empty room from Lucille Two and the Baker not paying rent, it would be incredibly difficult for the remaining two housemates to make the rent. So the decision is made that the Baker needs to move out at the end of December and they would need to find a more stable roommate.

So a house meeting was called and it was gently explained that things weren't working out with the Baker. He was told that it would be better if he would find a new place to live. He was surprised, threw up his hands and yelled "LAME" in a loud voice and ran upstairs. He was asked to discuss details but instead said there was nothing to discuss, he would move out and that was that.

This seemed like it might actually work for a few small, hopeful moments.

But this hope was quickly shattered when he then began turning the heat on full blast with open windows in 30 degree weather. It was apparent that he was interested in costing the house as much as possible before he left.

His behavior deteriorated to the point that we realized allowing him to stay through December was not tenable, so he was asked to come downstairs to discuss the details of his departure. He refused to leave his room. This prompted a call with a lawyer to understand our rights, his rights and possible courses of actions. Effectively what we learned is that only the landlord could affect his eviction and even that process has very clear guidelines and in the worst case, may take several months.

The lawyer advised that if there was theft taking place, then it should be reported to the authorities and a subsequent restraining order could be filed. So a quick call to the non-emergency line was made to file a police report.

The police arrived and we discussed the situation. They very clearly indicated that the pilfering that had been occurring was difficult, if not impossible to report. He then told us that this situation is relatively common and the rest of the housemates are pretty powerless. He said that the only two options are to lock your goods and belongings in your room, or move out. There was little the police could do in cases like this. The officer was also the one to advise us that the eviction process can take "up to 3 months".

The officers left and I went upstairs to see if I could talk with the Baker and convince him to accelerate or otherwise allow me to financially help him move on. (I can't reiterate how much of a toll this shitty housemate situation was taking on Eliska.)

The conversation was not particularly fruitful, except to understand that he would move of his own accord, in his own time, and that he "would give us as much notice as he was given".  WTH?  And that this isn't the first time it has happened to him.  So it was apparent he was better versed in how to handle the situation than we were. Touche Baker. Not only are you a shitty baker with poor ethical and moral standards, but you are enough of an asshole to inflict financial pain on those who call you on it.

I relay this to Eliska, and after yells of "Lies!" about all that he tried to tell me and the excuses he gave, she said "ok, we're leaving". This was Tuesday afternoon.

Wednesday morning, I rent a 14ft box van and park it next to the house. Eliska and the other roommate spend the day packing and loading the van while I work all day. Wednesday evening we look at three different places to rent.

Thursday I stay home from work and assist in loading the van. Frankly, this was almost necessary, for as efficient as Eliska is at Tetris, this skill does not carry over to optimally loading a moving van [Editor's note: I call as evidence our new storage room, thank you very much]. It is fair to say at this point, although Eliska is packing, I am in charge of the loading and logistics.

We spend at least 12 hours packing and loading the van on Thursday. By the time I am done, the van is literally packed, floor to ceiling. We spend the night in the place I've been living (I've been staying with a friend in his spare bedroom during the renovation). To say we were exhausted in an understatement.

Friday morning we check out another place to rent, near my renovation. After that, we both go to work, and manage to schedule one more evening appointment to visit a second place near my renovation. Low and behold, that evening we visit quite possibly the perfect interim place for us to live. Its blocks from my renovation. It's less in rent than our previous rent budgets, and it's half a block from the local pub and used bookstore. It has two bedrooms, two baths, an office, dining area, fireplace, reasonably sized kitchen, and a small fenced front yard.  Really it doesn't get any better.

We knew instantly when we looked at it, that it was perfect, so I pulled out my checkbook and forced a deposit on the landlord. He was thrilled as he just listed the unit and was happy to have already found a tenant.

As thrilling as this was, it also meant that there would be no rest, as we would need to disgorge the (filled to capacity) 14ft moving van into the new place. Thankfully it's a single story, ground level unit.

One of the few times I've asked for help in the last year, I called up a friend who offered to help us move and asked if he could help me unload the van. Well, in the span of two hours, with four people, we unloaded the van and were able to start unpacking.

But all told, Eliska was thrilled. She would have her own kitchen again. A house that we could keep clean. And more importantly, a place we could keep warm!  (Ok, maybe that's just me.)  Also, being so close to the renovation would be sooo helpful to me working on it at night, after I get home from work.

I'll add one thing on a personal note. Even with all of this stress, although we both had moments of rage and anxiety, we didn't fight once. We had one "moment", but neither of us would even consider it a tiff.

So now that I have gotten all of the items unloaded and placed in appropriate rooms of the house, it was Eliska's turn to lead. She took over the organizing and it was my turn to follow.

Or more to the point, I would call it "into the maelstrom", as she went into overdrive, getting the whole house squared away. By Sunday, the bedroom and bathroom were completely done. By Tuesday, the kitchen was done. By Thursday the office and Friday, the front room.

By Saturday I had moved in some of my belongings, namely a TV and XBox, which have become the center for entertainment in the living room.

And it was done. Within a week and a half, we had made the decision to move, packed up, found a place, unpacked and settled in. That was last Saturday, for the record.

And I know we are fully settled in. You know how I can tell? Just ask the dog.

Christmas is coming!

This is the best thing ever.

Sounds of love...

definitely include a power washer that's been running on the front porch for almost an hour.

Occupied

It would be a bit of an understatement to say that what happened at UC Davis on November 18th has been occupying my thoughts.  Of course by now you've heard what happened to a group of students at UC Davis protesting for the Occupy movement, the privatization of the University of California public education system, the proposed 81% tuition increases, and in solidarity with the UC Berkeley students and professors whose non-violent protests were met with batons and beatings earlier in the month.

These students were "occupying" The Quad (which is as you can imagine a large grassy public space in the middle of the university) with a small encampment of tents.  They had received permission from Chancellor Linda Katehi to break the "no camping on University grounds" rule on previous nights.  They went through the proper procedures for staging a peaceful protest.  They had the support of the Student Association.  Then on November 18th they received word from the Chancellor that they would have to remove their tents by 3:00 pm because of "serious health, safety and legal concerns".  Naturally, as their point was to stage a peaceful protest, which may include civil disobedience, they decided to stay.  The Chancellor sent in the University police to remove the tents and disband the protestors.  These police, who on normal days spend their time issuing tickets for rolling through University stop signs or not having a front and back light on your bike, came in with riot helmets, batons, and teargas guns.  According to reports and video, the students would not leave, the police started breaking down tents, a few students got arrested, and that's when the student protesters decided to sit in a circle around their tents and link arms.  And then this is what happened.



Here's another angle.



Students sitting in a circle on the ground had pepper spray shot at them multiple times, some down their throats, which led many to vomit and cough up blood.  Several of the students had to be seen by paramedics, and two were sent to the hospital.  Many had effects (in terms of continued burning) for over 24 hours.  This pepper spray is so strong and full of capaicinoid (the burning chemical in peppers) that it is  made chemically to get the burning agent up that high.  It's not quite as high as the concentration used in bear spray, but not far off either.

Professor Nathan Brown wrote an incredibly thoughtful letter to the Chancellor decrying the incident and calling for her resignation.  You should definitely read it.

This interview with one of the pepper-sprayed students is a must-read.  He/she gives the play-by-play from the protesters point of view.

From the Boulder Weekly:

Geoffrey Wildanger, 23, a graduate student in art history from Los Altos, said, "Three days ago, I was pepper sprayed. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but you know that already. What happened on Friday is not exceptional. Police brutality may not be the most common occurrence on UC Davis but it happens every day to poor people, women and people of color."

And this short article from the Davis Enterprise is quite interesting.

Professor Bob Ostertag has written an article about the incident on the Huffington Post.  This is a must-read.  Regarding the use of pepper spray use on criminals in prison:

[R]egulations prohibit the use of pepper spray on inmates in all circumstances other than the immediate threat of violence. If a prisoner is seated, by definition the use of pepper spray is prohibited. Any prison guard who used pepper spray on a seated prisoner would face immediate disciplinary review for the use of excessive force.

He also outlines one of the protesters' issues - the very large tuition increases.

 Just six years ago, tuition at the University of California was $5357. Tuition is currently $12,192. According to current proposals, it will be $22,068 by 2015-2016.

What this has to do with the Occupy Wall Street movement is quite simple.  The State of California in is a severe budget crisis.  You can easily argue that this budget crisis is exacerbated by severely inadequate tax revenues.  If corporations and the 1% paid more in taxes, the burdens of the budget crisis would not be felt so strongly by lower- and middle-class citizens.  Currently there are state worker furloughs, drastically reduced research budgets, and lay-offs.  Slashed funding for state parks (which actually bring in quite a bit of tourist revenue).  And slashed state funding to the "public" university system.  With this revenue gone, the expenses of the UC System has to be found in other ways.  Furloughs and salary and hiring freezes have been employed.  Unfortunately, that does not cover it.  With decreased state funding follows drastically reduced quality of education and/or increases in tuition.  The "public" university system gets dismantled.  Twenty thousand dollars a year for in-state tuition (currently out-of-state tuition in the UC system is $36,000 per year) is out of the league of a lot of qualified students .  Accruing these kinds of loans is a major burden for professions in which a university degree is essential, but pay is not stellar (I'm thinking accountants, nurses, and teachers here - and this is probably because these are the professions of my parents).*

Let's focus on elementary-high school teachers here for a second.  They're supposed to pay $22,000/year for their education in order to enter into jobs which pay barely more than that?  How are they supposed to pay those loans off?  How do we expect to have qualified teachers, especially in the math and sciences where people with these skills can get other jobs that actually pay?  Teachers' salaries are laughable on their own, but with the added burden of an education system that will not give them a true public option and the loans that go along with that?  As individuals, and as a society, we need people to do these jobs, but we expect them to do them practically for free.  Meanwhile, we will not take care of or educate their children, because they don't have enough capital to pay for it.  And if you can't pay, it's too bad for you, deadbeat.

Public universities, which were meant to bring a quality higher education out of the exclusive realm of the elite, are very quickly not going to exist in that respect at all.  I can barely imagine a scenario 10-20 years from now, given they way we're going now - by which I mean not valuing education as a nation at all, in which it is possible to get a decent education without paying private school prices and tuitions from kindergarten through to college.  And in that situation we've separated the rich from the poor even further.  Further than now.  And the education system now is already defined by inequities in class and capital.  The difference is now, with hard work, you can still get by and get ahead by merit.  That is eroding quickly.  "Eroding" isn't even an appropriate word.  "Destroy" is more accurate since it is more a function of neglect and greed than some natural process.

So let's review.  These students were protesting the use of violence against peaceful protestors at Berkeley, and the blatant inequalities that seem to be exponentially increasing in this country.  We've got corporations  that do everything they possibly can to turn the biggest profit.  That is the one and only bottom line.  Mortgage companies had been basically swindling people into horrible real estate decisions to make a buck, and these kids are pepper sprayed in the face for breaking the "no camping on campus" rule.  Based on all reports (excepting the University of California police department) and multiple videos showing what happened, the police were under no threat whatsoever.  Their shields weren't down, their body language in no way depicts people under threat, and the protesters seated on the ground with their heads bowed.  End of story.  The pepper spray (pepper spray so potent that you and I can't buy it) was used at a cattle prod, or as a punishment.  Haven't we set up a judicial system to fairly mete out punishment according to due process?  I was under that impression.  I was clearly naive.  What has happened is that due process was not required for these kids, and either the UC Davis administration or police department got to decide on punishment on the fly - punishment for unauthorized camping.  Meanwhile, the police officers who used what many of us would consider undue force without provocation, and what some of us would consider assault, are not going into the judicial system but instead are being "disciplined" by paid leave.

From the California Penal Code Section 12403.7:

(g) Any person who uses tear gas or tear gas weapons except in
self-defense is guilty of a public offense and is punishable by
imprisonment in a state prison for 16 months, or two or three years
or in a county jail not to exceed one year or by a fine not to exceed
one thousand dollars ($1,000), or by both the fine and imprisonment,
except that, if the use is against a peace officer, as defined in
Chapter 4.5 (commencing with Section 830) of Title 3 of Part 2,
engaged in the performance of his or her official duties and the
person committing the offense knows or reasonably should know that
the victim is a peace officer, the offense is punishable by
imprisonment in a state prison for 16 months or two or three years or
by a fine of one thousand dollars ($1,000), or by both the fine and
imprisonment.

Now of course there needs to be an aspect of the law that protects police officers when they are doing their duties, and of course their job sometimes requires the use of force.  However force and violence are separate beasts - the use of violence should never, ever be taken lightly.  The use of violence when it is not in self-defense should be inexcusable, even for police officers.  Can you imagine what would have happened if one of the students sprayed Lt. Pike back with pepper spray?  Would that have counted as self-defense?  We all know that kid would be in jail.  Police should be protected by the law in limited instances and when they are doing their duties within the law, but they should not be above it.  That is not what we saw here, and it is not what we are seeing across the United States.

* As an aside, let's think about how much we each paid in tuition.  Personally, I paid $3500/year at my state university in 1997-2001.  Not because I couldn't get in anywhere else (in fact I was offered a partial scholarship at a private college in California), but because this in-state tuition is what I could afford without accruing loans.  If I had to pay $22,000/year for in-state tuition, I would currently be over $65,000 in debt.  With a Ph.D. in science, making about that in a yearly salary, that would be a pretty overwhelming situation.

Marcel the Shell Part II

It makes me happy.  Merry Sunday, everyone!

Working at home...

with some help.

Oh, then this move.  

This one's a little trickier.

Did I tell you about the time Bubba tried to poison himself?

No?  Well, that's probably because I was super busy at the time.

About a week before the workshop I was putting together at work, I came home around 6 pm.  I immediately took Bubba for a short walk.  When we got back in the house he puked a dark brown liquid onto the floor.  Now, this dude pukes kind of a lot what with the car-sickness, so I had seen a lot of dog puke, but nothing that looked like this.  My housemate, The Baker, who had been home all day with the dogs, told me that Bubba had puked the same stuff a few hours earlier.  I looked at it, looked at him, looked at it, looked at him, and decided to look around the house for what he could have gotten into.

This didn't take long.

On the dining room table was a pan of brownies The Baker had made from scratch a few days earlier.  The day before I had moved all of his baked goods from the kitchen counter to the dining room table to make room to cook.  And then I forgot about it.  And I also forgot that when no one's looking Bubba will use the window seat to jump on top of the table in order to shamelessly go to town on whatever food is up there.  I have walked in on him a few times full on standing in the middle of the table eating something.

And then I left him out all day while I went to work.

The wax paper that was covering the brownies was off, but other than what looked like an irregular cut, or as if someone had just used a fork to eat one end of the brownies, it wasn't obvious that a dog had been eating them.  Bubba must have just eaten from the cut edge all neat-like.  He likes to cover his tracks.

So I took him upstairs and looked up how much chocolate is too much for a 12 lb dog.  Five minutes into this, I realized it would probably be a good idea to have him near me so I could monitor him.  I had him jump onto my lap, and then he immediately turned around and yakked over the edge onto the carpet.  Now this dark chocolate colored and smelling liquid puke was going to stain the carpet if I didn't get it up soon.  I got to cleaning and called Mr. Renaissance at work to have him continue the online research.  At this point I wasn't sure how quickly I would need to get him to the hospital.

Every chocolate-per-pound-of-dog calculator online said his dose (~1/8 pan of good quality dark chocolate brownies) was "severe" and to "take him to the vet immediately".  So I called the emergency vet.  The vet said definitely bring him in.

So off we went.  After hearing we were headed to the vet, Mr. Renaissance met us there.  Counting once more in the car on the ride over, Bubba puked a total of 6 times in a few hours (this brown puke was easy to trace).  Despite having never been to the emergency vet before, he smelled trouble and refused to go through the door.

So the vet saw him, at which point we learned that his heart rate was at 240 bpm.  I wasn't sure how to judge this until I learned it's supposed to be about 150.  His heart was beating so fast there wasn't time for it to fill properly.  He was flushed, he was jittery, and he was "quaking".  I told the doctor that Bubba has the shakes an awful lot for all sorts of reasons (he's part chihuahua after all), including being at the vet.

Given that he had already been puking a lot they thought inducing vomiting wasn't necessary, but they wanted to get an IV in to give him liquids, give him some valium to reduce his heart rate, and get some tests started.  Given that Tina Turnher had long ago convinced me to buy pet insurance, I said "Do it".

The tests showed that he indeed had a severe level of chocolate in his system.  Chocolate poisoning can not only kill a dog, but cause heart, liver, kidney, or brain damage.  We decided to do the "textbook" treatment.  I put a lot of stock in textbooks (literally and figuratively) so you know I was sold.  The plan was valium, IV fluids, tests including an EKG, activated charcoal to soak up the poison, and a catheter to keep his bladder empty (the chemical expelled into the urine can be reabsorbed through the bladder walls).

After that was decided, along with a discussion of the bill estimate ($1900-2400), we went to visit him in the back in his little vet cage with a an IV, a purple bandage, and a cone, and then left for the night.  He would stay at the vet overnight.  Honestly, that was the scariest part.

When we got home I tried to be cool - he was being taken care of very well, and he is a dog after all.  This was successful as long as Mr. Renaissance didn't try to discuss it or show any sympathy.  He couldn't.  So I had a mini-breakdown about the fragility of life, and how everyone I love will someday be taken from me, including this little guy.  It's just a taste of the inevitable.  Jesus, even now that's depressing.  But true.  And depressing.  Let's stop this cycle for now, shall we?

Anyway, the next day we called and he was doing well, his poison levels had dropped, but he had still been dry-heaving pretty much all night.  They did an x-ray and found a lot of dense pieces in his stomach that looked like they could be bone fragments.  I told them, I guess that sounds about right.  He steals his Rottweiler housemate's bones all the time and gnaws on them for hours.  One time he got a bone that was about as big as he is back to his crate after eyeing it and plotting on it for months.  They said this was probably irritating his stomach which is why he kept dry-heaving.  It would likely pass through, but they'd have to keep an eye on it in case it all ganged up together and formed an obstruction.  They planned another x-ray for that afternoon.

When I called after that x-ray they said the bone fragments passed through just fine.  They said they wanted to keep him until he "was eating food and drinking water again".  I said, "oh my god, he's not eating?!?!", because things would have to be seriously wrong for him not to want to eat.  They said, "Oh, we just haven't offered him any yet".  Well, say that then.  Jesus.  They said they wanted to keep him another night to make sure everything stays down.  I thought that sounded a bit excessive, but you're the experts.  I didn't go to vet school after all.

When I talked to Mr. Renaissance, who had also spoken to the vet that day, he called shenanigans.  We were going to give it until later that evening, and if he was still doing fine we were going to take him home.  He called the vet and told them this, in a very professional yet firm manner.  I was so grateful.  I don't have this ability.  I either agree with what is going on, or I go fully indignant.  That middle ground is tricky.

So we picked him up that evening, and he was acting a little weird.  Just not quite Bubba.  We had to feed him a small bland meal (cottage cheese and rice) four times a day and give him two pills (a preventative antibiotic because of the suture he needed to keep the catheter in place, and Pepcid AC to help settle his stomach) for a week.  In the morning he was back to his old self.  He must have still been on valium or something.  And since he kept everything down, he didn't need to go back to the hospital.

So to recap:

• Don't let your dog get into chocolate.  This was the first disadvantage of having a small dog.  Small quantities of the no-go foods are dangerous.  
• Bubba has now had an EKG, an x-ray, antibiotics, Pepcid AC, and valium, in addition to the Immodium AD that I had to give him when I first brought him home with the doggie flu.  I've never even had valium.  
• Pet insurance is awesome.  His little chocolate episode cost $2700 in vet fees.  I have paid $15/month for insurance since I've had him, plus a $200 deductible for this and 10% of its cost.  So about $700 total.  I win.
• Also, pets are expensive.
• Bubba isn't allowed to chew on his housemate's bones.  
• In fact, he'll be kenneled a lot more when I'm not home.  Because he doesn't understand that chocolate is not delicious.

Playing catch-up

Oh man, it's been awhile.  I've been super busy - work, new relationship, adventures, etc.  But also, it has started to get rainy and gray here.  And combine that with daylight savings time (ugggggh), and I always feel like hibernating for a month or two.  Watching some hulu, reading some books, cuddling with the dog - I could fill weeks with those things.  But I can't.  And so I do it a little bit.

Now, I don't even know where to start.  So many things to say.  How about a list?

1.  When I was in Montana hanging out with The Wanderer I dropped my camera in a tub of water and Epsom salt.  We may be a little picture light over here for awhile.

2.  The Violent Offender, The Shutterbug, Mr. Renaissance, and I went to see The Flaming Lips at The Puyallup Fair.  Of course we wandered around the fair for awhile first, ate 7 courses of fried food, and commissioned an air-brushed t-shirt.  Thanks to Mr. Renaissance's iPhone and The Shutterbug for the pics (it should be pretty obvious which is which).

 3.  I need to learn how to spell "Renaissance" correct the first time.  That would really simplify things over here.

4.  I met Mr. Renaissance's mother.  Bubba wore his bow tie for the event.

Our matching outfits and the slightly-inappropriate-for-Sunday-brunch-cleavage were unintended.  It was a warm summer day.  I'll say that.  I'll also say that his mom was very sweet.  She loved Bubba.  But how could you not?  Did you see that bow tie???

5.  I met a few more of Mr. Renaissance's friends at a birthday cocktail party.  I wore my new blue and lace dress!  Finally!  With tights and these shoes.  And Le Fuschia lipstick of course.  

This is the only pic of that night that I can show you.

6.  Mr. Renaissance is building a house.  But you knew this.  The plan was to make it a small open first floor with a sleeping loft above.  Now that is the old plan.  The new plan is to make it a 3 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath home with a full second story, a master bedroom with master bath and walk-in closet, a large kitchen with an island and a built-in dining nook, a small laundry room, possibly a small pantry under the stairs, potentially a window seat, and a living room with a library nook.  That's the part you might not have known.

So we're working on that.  Well, ok.  He's mostly doing the working so far.  I'm just helping make decisions, meeting with the architect, and devouring home design books by Sarah Susanka, as per the recommendation of the architect.  I'm learning a lot about nooks, away spaces, private and public spaces, window placement, lighting, etc.  It's incredibly fun.  But also, making the decision on the general floor plan was a teeny bit stressful.

 Originally Mr. Renaissance wanted the downstairs to be basically all open.  I like open too, but this means it would be pretty modern.  And it also means that if you've got a family in there, there is no way to get away (like an away room, or public/private space) to get a little privacy except for the bedrooms upstairs.  I didn't think that sounded like a very good plan.  The downstairs would basically be kitchen space open to living room space, with a small powder room.  What was super cool about this plan, however, was that the back wall of the house could be all windows.  All windows that accordioned open to completely open the back of the house to the deck.  Pretty cool, huh?  But I also thought about how this would only be awesome for 3 months out of the year here.  In the winter it's just a wall of windows to dark.

My point here is that deciding on one general floor plan meant saying no to everything else.  That seemed like one of the harder decisions.  Once you make that decision then you have a box in which to make smaller decisions.  But we've done it, and we feel really good about it.

The foundation of the house got poured this week.  We went over there and put our handprints in it.

7.  Mr. Renaissance and I went to Hump!  It's The Stranger's local, amateur, porn festival hosted by Dan Savage.  I had never been before.  Having never gone before you might assume that you would be viewing sexy things.  You would mostly be wrong.  There were some that were funny, some that were cute, some that were cartoons, or claymation, or stop-motion, and a few that were actually sexy.  But.  There were a few, in the 'kink' category, that were just pretty disturbing.  And not in a "oh my god, this is terrible I can't watch this, this goes against my morals" way.  In a "these consenting adults are doing things or simulating doing things that I can't look at anymore".  One with fake blood and fake nurses and drugged boys being dragged back to labs, one with a knife and the threat of cutting and blood which never actually happened (but we had already seen the fake blood so we were just waiting for it), and one cheery, friendly, colorful one that involved waaaaay too many donuts being sacrificed all over a couple people's bodies.  Sprinkles everywhere.  Icing everywhere.  Such. a. mess.  I was mostly disturbed by the mess.  And the fact that sugary foods, while quite amazing, are not sexy.  They do not belong in sex.  In my world you are either eating sugary junk foods or you are having sex.  There is a relationship, but it is an inverse one.

Anyway.

I'll probably go next year.

And I guess that's all for now, friends.

I may self-combust

The fact that I don't have an old brown recliner is probably my saving grace.  I really feel like people who self-combust always leave wisps of smoke from a charred still-rocking brown recliner.  So there's that.

But anyway, work is nuts.  I have to put together a two-day workshop at work for 30 people plus some other people who will be joining remotely.  This includes:

1. Keeping in email contact with all these people and keeping track of their schedules.
2. Acting as hostess in a way to a room full of people I don't know.  I'll be studying names and faces.
3. Buying the food and coffee and tea and getting all that set up.  
4. Finding someone to make the coffee for me.  I make terrible coffee.
5. Making sure everyone's presentations are done by Thursday morning.
6. Trying to make sure the work gets done to put into the presentations for Thursday morning.
7. Putting together a presentation of my own with results that don't yet exist from models that haven't yet been run (or finished).
8. Writing a chunk of code (one small piece of #7) in Fortran (which up until yesterday I didn't know at all) on economics.

Wish me luck.  I'll come up to breathe sometime next week.

I love a great-grandma doing the Dougie

RIP Little Elph

I killed my camera.  In a Epsom salt foot bath in Montana.  Mr. Renaissance tried to save it in a rubbing alcohol solution, and now it turns on, but that's about it.  D.E.A.D.

I can't figure out how I should replace it.  You see, I also have this waterproof housing for it, which I think only fits the Canon Powershot SD1000.

So my first option is to buy the exact same camera used for $90.  Not super exciting, but I know how to use it and I'll still have the waterproof housing (which in my current lifestyle I don't really use all that much I'll admit).

The second option is to buy a new updated Canon Elph.  But there are sooooo many options.  It's getting confusing.

Look - this one's even waterproof.  But $270.

What about the Canon Elph Powershot 300 HS?  Only $190.

Oh, wait a minute.  The Canon Elph Powershot 310 HS has 8x optical zoom instead of the 5x of the 300 HS.  $250.  And purple!

The 510 HS has the fastest shutter speed (I think) and a decent paparazzi-mode.  12x zoom - that's pretty cool.  $320.

OR, I could buy a fancier camera - NOT a DSL, I'm not ready for that, but something more that direction...

Something like the SX30 IS?  35x zoom, faster shutter speed, but is there video and does the paparazzi-mode suck?  $350.  What about the SX40 HS?  $400.

Here's what I want - 

• Fast shutter speed
• High optical zoom
• Video
• Time-lapse video would be sweet
• Stitch-assist
• I do love paparazzi-mode
• Inexpensive waterproof option would be a bonus
• under $500 - I'll probably have to wait until next year's tax refund as it is

Here are all the options at Canon.

Please help me!

o.m.g.

Right this second, about 10 seconds ago, I just found out that not only does Mr. Renaissance still use Windows Media Player, but he also uses Internet Explorer.  Funny, he didn't email me from a hotmail account!

It is killing me.

It's fall

Aside from the adorableness of dogs in clothes, I'm a little conflicted about the change in weather.  There are a few things that are necessary for me to psychologically survive 9 months of grey/rain/darkness: a fireplace; a hot tub; a cuddly/adorable/sweet significant other; lots and lots of books; and cooking, a lot of cooking.  A tropical getaway is also a bonus.  Luckily for me, aside from the hot tub (and that plan is in the works), I've got all of those things going for me.  I still need to settle the firewood situation, but I have definitely started out the grey season with a lot of reading in bed, and a lot of hermiting.

I do have a lot of books to read.  If you ever want to know how to get your hands on thousands of good books for super cheap, come talk to me.  Ah hell, I'll tell you right now.

1. Obviously, the Seattle Public Library.  Your local branch may seem small and pathetic, and let's be honest, it might be, but their website is awesome.  You can place a hold on any book in the entire system and have it sent over to your library, and they'll send you an email when it's ready for pickup.  I use the website for all my librarying needs and then just pop in and pick them up.  Also they have e-reader books that you can usually just download to your computer or (hack!) kindle right away.
2. The Friends of the Seattle Public Library book sale.  Mr. Renaissance found this for me this year.  A giant warehouse of books that are either $1 or $2.  There's a small section of more expensive books that I didn't even set foot in.  Why would I need to, when I walked out with 3 bags of books for $50?  You might think that the books would be old and uninteresting but you'd be wrong.  I got a LOT of books that were on my to-read list and if you're looking for Jonathan Franzen's Freedom (or any others from last year's housewives of America's book club lists), then you're in luck.  They will be scattered all over the place.
3.  The Half Price Books warehouse sale.  Similar to the Library's book sale but smaller.  Smaller as in not held in an airport hangar.  Totally worthwhile - you'll find lots of good stuff.
4. Ophelia's Books in Fremont.  I love this place.  It's small, it's cute, they have a store cat, and it's all used books.  They're really friendly, and they don't judge me that I like well-written chick-lit and not Hemingway (even the lady with the piercings that looks all tough).  Prices are around $5-10, books that are super new and popular will probably not be much cheaper than Amazon, but the browsing experience is fun, and they'll buy most of your books back.  I have yet to really figure out how they make enough money to stay open.  So do me a favor and go over there and support them.  

Anyway, it may have become clear from the above treatise on book buying that I've got a lot of books to get through.  There will be a lot of reading in bed this winter.  One of these days when I have a cozy house, there will be a lot of reading in other parts of the house as well.  

And while I'll be spending my winter reading and cooking and trying to keep psychologically and physically warm, the love that has zipped into my life at warp speeds and who here we call Mr. Renaissance has a much bigger project.  Which he has now started officially documenting.  I'll be supportive and lend a hand when I can, but when the jobs consist of pile driving and jack hammering and shoveling dirt, well let's just say my talents likely lie more in making dinner back here.  The days of emotional support from a sunny hammock spot are no longer weather-permitted.  

Montana Part II

Where were we?  Oh, right.  Montana.  So The Wanderer and I decided that we were going to take the dogs backpacking - which was why I flew Bubba out there.  We went to the Beartooth Mountains - just north of Yellowstone.  

We decided to go to Lost Lake specifically.  The plan was to hike to Lost Lake, camp there, and hike back.  

Oh look!  Bears!  We took this seriously.  Bear bells, bear sprays...

but Bubba didn't need a bear bell.  His tags are loud enough.  Good lord.

Then we headed out.  

The Wanderer and the dogs.

So because it was bear country with a side of mountain lion, I wasn't sure if I was going to let Bubba off leash at all.  But it was so wide open at first and I could see pretty far.  So I let Bubba off leash but I made him stick much closer to me than I normally would on a hike.  He did really well.  For a while he was literally on my heels.  Maybe he smelled bear.

Me and Bubba.

When we're hiking and I am the last person, Bubba always checks up on me.  If he thinks I'm falling too far behind, he'll just stand there and wait for me to catch up before he'll continue walking.  It's so sweet.

After a thunderstorm that rolled in unexpectedly caused us to set up camp a bit early, we continued walking to Lost Lake.  Here it is!

Bubba was ready for a nap so he weaseled his way into a cuddle.

Then we walked back to our camp spot by the river.

And Bubba was ready to relax.

Oh!  And then I noticed these weird blood red circle spots on his belly.  They were bright red with a tiny black dot in the center.  It was so strange.  The next day they were a red ring.  Too fast to be ringworm, and no tick attached.  When we got back I called the vet and they said just some weird bug bite.  Don't worry about it.

So The Wanderer and I made dinner (not super awesome I'll be honest), chugged down some wine (awesome), and had some chocolate for dessert.  Sat in front of the fire we made for a minute, and then had to get the bear bag up in the trees quick.  We were losing light.

It went fine, but on the way back to camp my headlight lit up these eyes.

And closer.

I knew Caddie was back there tied to a tree, and it only made sense that it was her, but still.  Eerie.  Pitch black night, two pair of eyes shining back at you.  

The next morning we all woke up safe and sound.  

It was a lot colder than it was supposed to be that weekend.  50-60s during the day and 30s at night.  I recently bought a new much warmer down sleeping bag on the Middleman's recommendation, and boy was that thing warm.  I had my arms completely out of the bag most of the night.  That thing is stellar.  

And Bubba was warm too... at night.  And while hiking.  But in the evening and the morning when he wasn't moving around too much, his jacket just wasn't cutting it.  So I wrapped him up in down and hoped he'd stay that way while we made breakfast.

Then I went out on some rocks in the river to brush my teeth.  He followed me, as usual, but only about this far.  

Little dude hates water.

And once the tent was down, he had to find himself another bed.  The best choice was The Wanderer's backpack, apparently.  Good luck getting him off there so you can pack it.

We hiked back to the car, opened the doors, one second later Bubba jumped in, and then they got some treats.

Tired dogs, avoided getting soaked by rain, warm enough sleeping bags and clothes, some pretty sunny days, no bear/cougar encounters, not getting lost, and no injuries.  It was pretty successful all around.