This work week started hard. What else did I expect? A ten-hour day, however, I did not expect. Maybe things will calm a bit now that my crew have assignments and I can try to establish a regular order to work. If the Census Bureau actually organized the assignments (or provided some way to explore the geographic spread of each assignment area at a glance), yesterday would have gone more briefly, I think. Possibly I could have even knocked off mid-day to write a blog post for today, instead of taking time that should be making dinner, breakfast and lunches.
Anyway. Posts will be pretty brief and continuingly random for a while as I actually work at a real job. (How was I misled to believe this would be a part-time employment?)
I did enjoy driving to Bellevue to meet a crew member and my first crew leader assistant (who is excellent and would probably be better than me for my job). It was a perfect-blue-sky day. Not a cloud anywhere. We had to be sitting right under the high pressure. It was gloriously sunny and not noticeably hot (yet). Unfortunately, I didn’t enjoy it because I was fretting the whole way up and back about what I had to get done. Work really is a form of enslavement. (And thereʼs a post lurking somewhere in that observation.)
Janetʼs Garden of Earthly Delights
Janet and I went to Dubuque on Sunday to explore garden displays at box stores — Target, Wal-Mart, Loweʼs and Samʼs. She ended up with: a new concrete birdbath (our old one had taken a real hit after being left outdoors through the past winter), a metal plant stand (to hold a pot off the ground about a foot) and something else I have forgotten (Mr. Freud?). I am sure the yard will be forever improved by these important purchases. Samʼs provided some food.
I had been going to Samʼs for periodic groceries and other supplies biweekly since last June, as an excuse to visit Janet for lunch. Now the new job is going to kill that pleasant periodic interlude, just when we had gotten used to being able to pick up that huge block of feta or mammoth container of pita chips or case of Fat Tire whenever I pleased. Or new phones for the house or a GPS for my new job (“Really, honey, Iʼll need it to find addresses”) or excess printer ink…
This work thing might be a challenge.
A topic I havenʼt addressed here is the HBO series The Pacific, to which both of us are addicted. Ensuring that we are at home an in front of The Box at 8:00 PM Sundays reminds me of Masterpiece Theater days in the Seventies, Eighties and Nineties (Janet even enjoyed months of Sundays at home for the rebroadcast of I Claudius — an eternal favorite of mine, affectionately known around here as Clavdivs— a joke the cognoscenti who saw that series will surely understand. The rest of you should just click the link and look at the picture.) Although Time (or maybe Newsweek) panned the new WWII series as irrelevant to our modern times, we are hooked on it. I was going to say we like it, but itʼs somehow wrong to say you like all those intense battle scenes.
My own attachment, even though the series focuses on Marines, is my father. He fought in those same islands during his World War II in the Army, landing directly after the Marines had “taken” each island (and were departing to the next) for the clean-up operations. He never talked much about the War; in fact, I think none of us know more than about three or four stories from his time in the Pacific. However, he did like to say that his fellow soldiers used to joke about that term “taken,” saying that the Marines left more Japanese troops behind than they found there in the first place. Meaning that there was plenty of conflict and terror, I suppose, for the follow-ups to encounter.
The series gets a positive review from Janet and me. —And she just called to let me know sheʼs on her way home, which means I have to stop this and get to making some lunch and breakfast. After all, Monday nightʼs good television, too: Two and a Half Men and The Big Bang Theory.