10 Years

I've been living in the Bay Area for 11 years, now. Ten of those in the Sunset (following one year in Alameda). All of them working for the same agency, on the same floor of the same building, though I've been in three nominally different positions and moved cubes maybe four times (never once by the window! So unfair!).

It occurred to me today, as I was pondering this on the same walk I have done almost every weekday for eleven years from my office to the subway (OK, for a while I walked to a different bus stop), that it won't be long before I've lived here longer than I lived in the town where I grew up.

It feels like time for a change. Too bad my job has me shackled with golden handcuffs; now is not the time to be looking for a new job, and even before the economic "downturn," I did not see any comparable positions with comparable pay. But I sure wouldn't mind moving out of the City.

the entire scale or range

This may be the single most interesting English etymology I've ever looked up. Incidentally, I looked it up because I was at a conference and a speaker (otherwise very good, with a very interesting talk) kept using the word, and kept mispronouncing it "gambit."

From Dictionary.com:

gam⋅ut

[gam-uht]
–noun
1. the entire scale or range: the gamut of dramatic emotion from grief to joy.
2. Music. a. the whole series of recognized musical notes. b. the major scale.

Origin:
1425–75; late ME gamma ut, equiv. to gamma, used to represent the first or lowest tone (G) in the medieval scale + ut (later do); the notes of the scale (ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si) being named from a Latin hymn to St. John the Baptist: Ut queant laxis resonare fibris. Mira gestorum famuli tuorum, Solve polluti labii reatum, Sancte Iohannes

Unintended Consequences

The preferential residential parking system was established in 1976 to preserve neighborhood living within a major urban center. It is designed to promote the safety, health and welfare of all San Francisco residents by reducing unnecessary personal motor vehicle travel, noise and pollution, and by promoting improvements in air quality, convenience and attractiveness of urban residential living, and increased use of public mass transit. The program’s main goal is to provide more parking spaces for residents by discouraging long-term parking by people who do not live in the area.

So sayeth the Municipal Transportation Agency.

The street on which the Spawn's day care is situated just became 2-hour parking, except for residents with area "O" permits. Previously, I had been driving a couple of miles from our apartment to the day care, parking on that block, dropping off the Spawn, and then walking a couple of blocks to the L-Taraval stop, which I would take in to work. In the evening, reverse.

Since I am no longer permitted to park on this block for the workday, and it would take about an hour and at least one transfer just to get the Spawn from our apartment to her day care by transit (and another half hour to get myself to work), I can only infer that the MTA would prefer that I drive to the day care, drop off the Spawn, and then drive into downtown, pay $18/day or $200/mo for parking and add to downtown congestion, and then drive home again in rush hour in the evening.

How does this meet their stated goal?

Test Post

My laptop is in the shop again. Testing posting from my handheld

Adorable Smooshyface? Or Menace to Society?

I have been told on separate occasions by the parents of two different children at the Spawn's day care that their children ask about her, or call out her name, at home (or maybe in the car, not entirely clear).

I am unsure what to make of this. The natural assumption for the proud parent of a Spawn would be that the other children so adore her that they pine after her when she is away. However, given my own experience with her, I wonder if perhaps there might be other explanations.

Maybe they are playing a game that they see the day care attendants play several times a day, when they look around and ask, "Where's the Spawn?" before realizing that she is in the other room, pulling all the board-books off the shelves.

Or perhaps the children in question are at home in their living room, peacefully enjoying themselves or playing with their parents or siblings, when a sudden fit of panic seizes them and they must ascertain that the Spawn is not toddling up behind them, ready to bonk them on the head with a plastic block and gleefully shout, "OW!"

We may never know.

The stultifyingly monotonous routine and perpetual sleep deprivation of parenthood are conspiring to me carborundum. When the daily grind of work becomes your outlet for creativity, something's wrong. The user documentation I've been writing has been taking on characteristics of novellae: so wordy that most people won't bother reading it, not long enough to qualify for a Philip K. Dick award (does photocopy count as "paperback"?).

I am rethinking my desire for a Kindle or Sony Reader in favor of the iPhone I already have. I finished reading Tarzan of the Apes, which came with the eReader app, this morning. Why would I need a separate device for reading books? The Kindle seems to have a huge library (no - bookstore. Libraries are free.) behind it, which is nice. But there's a whole bunch of books on Fictionwise for both the eReader and Stanza iPhone apps. Once I'm finished with all the woodpulp books I have waiting for me, maybe I'll start buying some electronbacks.

The E-i-C and I are planning to go to the Edwardian Ball in a couple of weeks. We have a babysitter scheduled and everything. Seems like my whole gang of friends is getting geared up for it as well. Yay! That's a walking stick, but I'm also happy to see you.

My favorite Christmas gift this year was a pendant by Jeanine Payer in support of the anti-Prop 8 movement. It's engraved with Gandhi's quote, "What barrier is there that love cannot break?"

MUNI Update: Riding the N Still Sucks

Generally in the morning, I go down to Judah & La Playa to get coffee and a bagel at Java Beach, where I relax (or don't, depending on how late I left home) for a few minutes. Then I catch the 6:48 N-Judah in to work.

Today, there was no 6:48 N-Judah. No 6:54 N-Judah, either. When the 7:00 N Judah came, it was only one car. And the front door was broken. I was going to just wait for the next train, as one-car N-Judahs can be a little uncomfortable during rush hour. But I quickly checked NextBus on my trusty iPhone and saw that another was not going to arrive for another 19 minutes. (N.b.: During peak times, N-Judah trains are supposed to run every 6 minutes.)

I decided to cut my losses and catch the one-car. The good thing about getting on at the turnaround is that I'm guaranteed a seat near the door.

Cheap Regression Therapy

Friend CK is coming for a visit from Kansas. The Choppers are hosting a party in his honor this weekend, and the email invite prompted this thread:

CK:

And I would note that if you're going to get a sitter for Friday so you can party like adults, fantastic, but if so let's schedule something at some point so I can meet the little Spawn!
Looking forward to seeing you all!
ck

Me:

We are planning on bringing the Spawn with us and partying like 14-month-olds. Which is to say, falling off furniture, running around in circles, dancing "the Malfunction," poking people in the eyes, chirping and squealing like R2 units, bursting into tears unexpectedly when we've had enough, and falling asleep on the drive home.
- Raelist

CK:

Oooh! I'm going to be drinking, too!

You can always count on CK.