Monday, December 13, 2010
Tardy!
I've been remiss this past week, although I claim to have a good excuse - too much going on. Multiple things came to a head last week, from extra tasks at work to baking for a bake sale, to cleaning, to Christmas shopping, to guests, to masses of dishes to do (several times over, in fact). Rest assured, I did some fun things this weekend, and will write posts soon (hopefully tomorrow evening). After all, I have another church review to share, along with photos of the craziest used book store I've ever encountered, a crafty project or two to share, and adventures in a new neighborhood. It's not like I haven't been doing anything - but finding the energy to write...well, that's another question entirely! I'll do my best to summon it up tomorrow as much for me as for you, dear readers, because (Heaven help me) my Christmas shopping isn't done yet!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Church Review: St. Peter
Part 1 of the adventures of Sunday the 12th, backdated from Friday
St. Peter
313 2nd St., SE
Website
The church on St. Peter on Capitol Hill is quite literally on the hill - it is across the street from one of the annexes of the Library of Congress, which is in turn across from the Capitol itself. It is also a block and a half from Capitol South Metro, so getting here is no problem at all - I could probably walk it if I wanted to, but I came down to Capitol South after running some errands in Columbia Heights and intended to run more errands before Mass, so I didn't feel up to walking. Still, this is one of not too many Catholic churches south of the Mall, and the third closest to me (give it a 4). The other two are St. Dominic, which I've been to numerous times now, and St. Vincent de Paul, which only has one Mass in English, at 8:00am (blurgh); the other, at 10:30, is in Ge'ez, which even I'm not adventurous enough to attend. What's Ge'ez, you ask? I didn't know either, until I looked it up. Turns out it's an ancient Semitic language which was once the official tongue of the Kingdom of Axum and the Imperial Court of Ethiopia; nowadays it's used just about exclusively as the religious language for Ethiopian Orthodox and, in St. Vincent de Paul's case, Ethiopian rite Catholics. Washington has the nation's largest Ethiopian diaspora, remember, and great food to match; those which are Ethiopian rite Catholic (rather than Roman rite) must go to Mass somewhere.
Howevah, this review is not about a Ge'ez Mass on Sunday morning at St. Vincent de Paul, but an English Mass on Sunday evening at St. Peter. The church was recommended to me by some friends of K&R (through K&R, since I haven't met these friends, although really I should), who reportedly say that it's quite tolerant. I was afraid that tolerant meant, as it so often does, hippy and inclined to sloppy modern music, which is why I've put off going for so long (and they do have a folky Mass on Sunday mornings), but it seems silly to look farther and farther afield for new churches to visit when this one is so close. So I arranged to do some shopping here (more on that in future posts) and then end up at the 5:30 Mass. I have loved Sunday night Masses ever since I got in the habit of attending the 8:00pm at the cathedral in Freiburg when I studied abroad in Germany, and thought that if I could find something even half as lovely, I'd be set.
The most striking thing about the outside of St. Peter, which I realized as I came upon it after exiting the Metro into a cold rain, is how tall it feels. There are two reasons for this - the most prominent, of course, is the tower which, as I discovered over the course of the afternoon, can be seen from several blocks away on many sides. It's also reminiscent in more ways than one of a lighthouse, which is quite fitting for a church, I think.
Second, and less noticeable in a photo than it is in person, is how high up the main church is from the street. Look at the front steps in the photo up top (sorry about this one - it has the full tower, but also raindrops, apparently). It's a good five feet vertical difference between the street and where you enter the church. This has an interesting effect - rather than just stepping into the church from street level, or climbing up a couple of steps, you have to ascend as staircase, a bit like climbing a mountain in terms of symbols. Other churches have had this (St. Patrick, Sagrado Corazon, and the Cathedral, to name the most prominent), but because St. Peter feels so vertical already, I think the effect is heightened.
Once you step inside and past the swinging wooden doors, you find yourself face to face with something Palladio would find quite pleasant. I have very few photos because when I entered the priest was saying Vespers (!), and by the time Mass ended I was too hungry to stick around (I was also damp from the afternoon's adventures and wanted nothing more than to go home and eat the pork and potatoes waiting for me in the refrigerator), but I intend to return to take more. Please forgive my rather poor specimens this time around.
The church does not feel modernized - intentionally, like St. Stephen, or tragically, like St. Dominic - but neither does it feel so old, like St. Mary Mother of God, that the very walls resent the use of the vernacular. It's very much like St. Patrick, but less grandiose (recall the size of the apse there vs. the size of the apse here). The coloring, as you can see, is very tastefully done - cream walls with tan accents, lots of light, and a bit of colored marble and gold, but sparingly used. There are rounded arches everywhere, but the setting off of those arches with clean straight lines (look up at the top of the apse, and the lines that run backward to the choir loft) given a feeling of airiness and clearness that I thought was refreshing. I felt like the modernist folds of St. Stephen were trapping - this, on the other hand, felt fresh and open. Ah, Palladio (who?) - and Brunelleschi too, come to think of it (see).
The rear of the church is also quite nice - the choir loft is one of the prettiest I've seen in this country. Feels like it ought to be in London somewhere.
Aesthetics, a 5. I seem to be handing those out quite a bit lately.
The liturgy itself would qualify for run of the mill. It was a forgettable sermon, and nothing particularly interesting in the rite except that the servers -both girls, which is great - wore the old surplices, though without any patterns, rather than the typical white albs. But I probably would have thought things pretty average had I not come in early and stumbled upon the second half of Vespers. There was the priest, standing with the cantor, chanting Vespers, in an elaborate gold cope. I thought - mistakenly, it would appear - that American Catholics had given up on Vespers and left it to the rich Episcopalians who could afford to hire an organist on weekday afternoons. Turns out St. Peter has made do without the organist, and substituted in a talented pianist (!) instead. During the Mass he did some modern but classical-feeling settings of "Oh Come Oh Come Emmanuel," and I was pleased to see that the hymnal had some older hymns in it. 4s for both Liturgy (since I'm feeling generous, and since this was the best attended Sunday evening Mass I've ever seen in this country, complete with quite a few young adults) and Music.
This means that St. Peter averages 4.25 (4+5+4+4=17/4=4.25), pretty good. I'd be interested in attending another of the Masses, though I'd be willing to make a Sunday evening Mass my tradition, just as I did in Germany. And, you know, I have to go back so I can get some better pictures!
St. Peter
313 2nd St., SE
Website
Howevah, this review is not about a Ge'ez Mass on Sunday morning at St. Vincent de Paul, but an English Mass on Sunday evening at St. Peter. The church was recommended to me by some friends of K&R (through K&R, since I haven't met these friends, although really I should), who reportedly say that it's quite tolerant. I was afraid that tolerant meant, as it so often does, hippy and inclined to sloppy modern music, which is why I've put off going for so long (and they do have a folky Mass on Sunday mornings), but it seems silly to look farther and farther afield for new churches to visit when this one is so close. So I arranged to do some shopping here (more on that in future posts) and then end up at the 5:30 Mass. I have loved Sunday night Masses ever since I got in the habit of attending the 8:00pm at the cathedral in Freiburg when I studied abroad in Germany, and thought that if I could find something even half as lovely, I'd be set.
Second, and less noticeable in a photo than it is in person, is how high up the main church is from the street. Look at the front steps in the photo up top (sorry about this one - it has the full tower, but also raindrops, apparently). It's a good five feet vertical difference between the street and where you enter the church. This has an interesting effect - rather than just stepping into the church from street level, or climbing up a couple of steps, you have to ascend as staircase, a bit like climbing a mountain in terms of symbols. Other churches have had this (St. Patrick, Sagrado Corazon, and the Cathedral, to name the most prominent), but because St. Peter feels so vertical already, I think the effect is heightened.
Once you step inside and past the swinging wooden doors, you find yourself face to face with something Palladio would find quite pleasant. I have very few photos because when I entered the priest was saying Vespers (!), and by the time Mass ended I was too hungry to stick around (I was also damp from the afternoon's adventures and wanted nothing more than to go home and eat the pork and potatoes waiting for me in the refrigerator), but I intend to return to take more. Please forgive my rather poor specimens this time around.
The rear of the church is also quite nice - the choir loft is one of the prettiest I've seen in this country. Feels like it ought to be in London somewhere.
Aesthetics, a 5. I seem to be handing those out quite a bit lately.
The liturgy itself would qualify for run of the mill. It was a forgettable sermon, and nothing particularly interesting in the rite except that the servers -both girls, which is great - wore the old surplices, though without any patterns, rather than the typical white albs. But I probably would have thought things pretty average had I not come in early and stumbled upon the second half of Vespers. There was the priest, standing with the cantor, chanting Vespers, in an elaborate gold cope. I thought - mistakenly, it would appear - that American Catholics had given up on Vespers and left it to the rich Episcopalians who could afford to hire an organist on weekday afternoons. Turns out St. Peter has made do without the organist, and substituted in a talented pianist (!) instead. During the Mass he did some modern but classical-feeling settings of "Oh Come Oh Come Emmanuel," and I was pleased to see that the hymnal had some older hymns in it. 4s for both Liturgy (since I'm feeling generous, and since this was the best attended Sunday evening Mass I've ever seen in this country, complete with quite a few young adults) and Music.
This means that St. Peter averages 4.25 (4+5+4+4=17/4=4.25), pretty good. I'd be interested in attending another of the Masses, though I'd be willing to make a Sunday evening Mass my tradition, just as I did in Germany. And, you know, I have to go back so I can get some better pictures!
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Have You Been...Drinking?
I have a smallish mash-up/signwreck to share, for which I alas have no picture. But the visual is not quite so funny as the concept, and I trust my own story-telling skills enough to recount this humorous little incident.
Yesterday at work we had a bake sale for the Combined Federal Campaign, the pre-winter holidays month-long charity drive, the only time when anyone can solicit donations for any cause in the federal workplace. There's an entire book of places you can select to donation a bit of your paycheck every week, and plenty of paperwork, but our coordinators have tried - successfully, I think - to shake things up a bit. One such initiative is this bake sale, for which I contributed some of my delicious Chocolate Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies (cow patties).
Naturally, as is often the case with things of this scale, far more was contributed than could possibly be consumed in the course of a single day (I'm told the big conference room on the north side of the building was full), so today they've assembled the remnants in the break room and are selling them for half price. As I was walking down the hall to the bathroom this afternoon I noticed that some signs had been put up directing would-be buyers to the location of this second, smaller sale. The title was what caught my eye:
Yesterday at work we had a bake sale for the Combined Federal Campaign, the pre-winter holidays month-long charity drive, the only time when anyone can solicit donations for any cause in the federal workplace. There's an entire book of places you can select to donation a bit of your paycheck every week, and plenty of paperwork, but our coordinators have tried - successfully, I think - to shake things up a bit. One such initiative is this bake sale, for which I contributed some of my delicious Chocolate Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies (cow patties).
Naturally, as is often the case with things of this scale, far more was contributed than could possibly be consumed in the course of a single day (I'm told the big conference room on the north side of the building was full), so today they've assembled the remnants in the break room and are selling them for half price. As I was walking down the hall to the bathroom this afternoon I noticed that some signs had been put up directing would-be buyers to the location of this second, smaller sale. The title was what caught my eye:
Hangover Bake Sale
In the Break Room
10am until everything's gone!
Not leftover, mind you, hangover. I had the irresistible image of my boss and various other senior workers staggering drunk into the break room and scarfing cookies and cupcakes "until everything's gone," and nearly lost it in the middle of the hallway. Especially because my boss is on a diet...
Might I also add that none of my cookies made it to the hangover bake sale? You see, when I bake a thing, people like it. Even food-fussies like the communications director. Ha!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The National Portrait Gallery
I had made a vow to save most of the major museums for this winter, when I don't anticipate wanting to walk around the city very much, but today I made an exception, because I had heard that a particular exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery had been the center of some controversy, brought upon it by the Catholic League, and had subsequently self-censored in a most shameful manner. Naturally, I had to go investigate.
The exhibit, for those not familiar with the story (and I will admit that not everyone follows art news or gay news as much as I do - though there are some who trounce me in one or even both categories), is Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture which, despite the rather bland name, is actually fascinating. It is an examination of the impact of sexual difference (read "non-heterosexuality") in American portraiture and runs the gamut from John Singer Sargent to Georgia O'Keeffe to Andy Warhol. The pieces are widely varied, running the gamut from photographs to abstract art, including film. And it is film which is the center of the controversy, because one of the film pieces, A Fire in My Belly by David Wojnarowicz, a gay artist who died from complications of AIDS in 1992, portrays a crucifix with ants crawling on it (about 11 seconds from a roughly half-hour long video). Perhaps unsurprisingly in these polarized times, the video drew criticism from conservative politicians and pundits, among them the Catholic League (with which I have no affiliation, and for which I profess infinitesimally small sympathy), and the National Portrait Gallery, to its shame, caved and withdrew the piece. You can read more about it here.
I doubt that I would have heard about the whole thing had it not cropped up on the Facebook monster (as much as I loathe it, it does keep me up to date on a number of things, thanks to the efforts of friends more clued in than I am), which informed me that an art-historian-friend of mine had written an article examining the symbolism behind the offending art piece. I read it and was not only positively impressed by the article, but also resolved to see the exhibit, if for no other reason than to flip a symbolic bird to the twits at the Catholic League who, apparently, have trouble understanding the concept of free speech. So after attending Mass at St. Patrick - to re-establish my Catholic credentials, if they were ever in doubt - I marched over to the gallery, stopping in the courtyard to have lunch and plan my afternoon.
The courtyard deserves special note - the only thing I've ever see like it is the courtyard at the British Museum, which is neat, but so is this one:
Is this not awesome? Better still, it doubles as a conservatory, where people can lounge about (as much as one can lounge on marble, anyway) in the company of plants and have their lunch. This is useful, because as the weather gets cold I intend to continue adventuring, but I also intend to continue to bring my lunch with me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to sit on a bench in the snow and eat my lunch. Knowing where there are heated placed where you can eat your lunch is good indeed.
After lunch I headed up to the second floor where the special exhibits are housed, and determined that the only way I could get to Hide/Seek from where I was was to go through the section of the museum dedicated to portraits of the presidents, so I did. Most of them are fairly unremarkable - either because they're the standard profile on a black background with few other details, or because they're presidents for whom I have little affection - but there are a couple which deserve special mention because they're prominent and important. Here they are:
Although Washington was the president when this picture was painted and is surrounded by the grandeur of office - the background would not be misplaced in the portrait of a monarch - he stands attired in simple clothes, a visible rejection of monarchy and the claim to absolute power which Washington could easily have made (and, to be honest, he would probably have been given a dictatorship if he had wanted one). Not that Washington is entirely devoid of feudalism - what you may not know is that his family's coat of arms provided the basis for the flag of the District of Columbia, so Washington's feudal influence continues, if not in the form of a monarchy. Coincidentally, Washington's release of power when his time as president ended is why I cite him as my favorite when my real favorite, FDR, seems like an unwise preference to make public (big government socialist!).
Abraham Lincoln is probably my mother's favorite president (although I've never asked), Civil War historian that she is, and this is one the most famous (if not the most famous) portrait of him. It is the image of Lincoln that we cherish - that of the melancholy thinker, burdened with the fate of nation and grappling with the moral - just as much as Washington's honor and leadership prowess. Not everyone who manages to attain the office is worthy of it or capable of executing it properly - witness the long succession of barely semi-competent men who preceded Lincoln, for example - but Washington and Lincoln are two of the greatest, without doubt, and their portraits have places of honor in this exhibition, as well as in the American psyche.
Well, having gotten my weekly dose of patriotic idealism out of my system, let's move on to controversy, shall we?
Special exhibitions in the National Portrait Gallery cannot be photographed, presumably because they want people to buy the exhibit catalog ($45 at the museum store), so I don't have photographs, but if you click the link up near the top of this post you can see a few of the pieces and read a bit about the exhibition. Let me say simply that I enjoyed it quite a bit, and it was well attended that afternoon, almost certainly to a higher degree than it would have been without the associated controversy. And, by the way, that story has a [somewhat] happy ending - a gallery owner will be showing a portion of A Fire in my Belly, or you can watch it online (just click that link, and then the link in that article). In all, the video is doubtless going to be exposed to many more people now that it's been booted from the exhibition than it would have had the assorted conservative blowhards kept their mouths shut. Ooops!
And as a sweet, semi-patriotic finale, I passed this on my way out:
The Preamble of the Constitution made out of license plates - NEEEET!
The exhibit, for those not familiar with the story (and I will admit that not everyone follows art news or gay news as much as I do - though there are some who trounce me in one or even both categories), is Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture which, despite the rather bland name, is actually fascinating. It is an examination of the impact of sexual difference (read "non-heterosexuality") in American portraiture and runs the gamut from John Singer Sargent to Georgia O'Keeffe to Andy Warhol. The pieces are widely varied, running the gamut from photographs to abstract art, including film. And it is film which is the center of the controversy, because one of the film pieces, A Fire in My Belly by David Wojnarowicz, a gay artist who died from complications of AIDS in 1992, portrays a crucifix with ants crawling on it (about 11 seconds from a roughly half-hour long video). Perhaps unsurprisingly in these polarized times, the video drew criticism from conservative politicians and pundits, among them the Catholic League (with which I have no affiliation, and for which I profess infinitesimally small sympathy), and the National Portrait Gallery, to its shame, caved and withdrew the piece. You can read more about it here.I doubt that I would have heard about the whole thing had it not cropped up on the Facebook monster (as much as I loathe it, it does keep me up to date on a number of things, thanks to the efforts of friends more clued in than I am), which informed me that an art-historian-friend of mine had written an article examining the symbolism behind the offending art piece. I read it and was not only positively impressed by the article, but also resolved to see the exhibit, if for no other reason than to flip a symbolic bird to the twits at the Catholic League who, apparently, have trouble understanding the concept of free speech. So after attending Mass at St. Patrick - to re-establish my Catholic credentials, if they were ever in doubt - I marched over to the gallery, stopping in the courtyard to have lunch and plan my afternoon.
The courtyard deserves special note - the only thing I've ever see like it is the courtyard at the British Museum, which is neat, but so is this one:
After lunch I headed up to the second floor where the special exhibits are housed, and determined that the only way I could get to Hide/Seek from where I was was to go through the section of the museum dedicated to portraits of the presidents, so I did. Most of them are fairly unremarkable - either because they're the standard profile on a black background with few other details, or because they're presidents for whom I have little affection - but there are a couple which deserve special mention because they're prominent and important. Here they are:
Abraham Lincoln is probably my mother's favorite president (although I've never asked), Civil War historian that she is, and this is one the most famous (if not the most famous) portrait of him. It is the image of Lincoln that we cherish - that of the melancholy thinker, burdened with the fate of nation and grappling with the moral - just as much as Washington's honor and leadership prowess. Not everyone who manages to attain the office is worthy of it or capable of executing it properly - witness the long succession of barely semi-competent men who preceded Lincoln, for example - but Washington and Lincoln are two of the greatest, without doubt, and their portraits have places of honor in this exhibition, as well as in the American psyche.
Well, having gotten my weekly dose of patriotic idealism out of my system, let's move on to controversy, shall we?
Special exhibitions in the National Portrait Gallery cannot be photographed, presumably because they want people to buy the exhibit catalog ($45 at the museum store), so I don't have photographs, but if you click the link up near the top of this post you can see a few of the pieces and read a bit about the exhibition. Let me say simply that I enjoyed it quite a bit, and it was well attended that afternoon, almost certainly to a higher degree than it would have been without the associated controversy. And, by the way, that story has a [somewhat] happy ending - a gallery owner will be showing a portion of A Fire in my Belly, or you can watch it online (just click that link, and then the link in that article). In all, the video is doubtless going to be exposed to many more people now that it's been booted from the exhibition than it would have had the assorted conservative blowhards kept their mouths shut. Ooops!
And as a sweet, semi-patriotic finale, I passed this on my way out:
Saturday, December 4, 2010
A Very Productive Saturday
Today alone I've made up for my lack of productiveness last weekend (I accomplished basically nothing last Sunday, and was quite perturbed about it at the time). But today has gone quite well, and it's only quarter to eight! Here's what I've managed to accomplish:
1) Draw up a budget for the new year, and determine that repaying my student loans will not entail grinding poverty and destitution.
I had been meaning to do this for a while, but this morning (after a languid hot shower which was far longer than strictly necessary - shoot me, environmentalists), I sat down and did it. Thanks to the National Student Loan Data System, I can draw up a page that details all of my federal loans (and, since all of my loans are federal, this means I can see all of my student loans). The site does lag behind by a month or so, so outstanding interest figures are behind, but sometimes you just need to know exactly how many loans you took out, and how big they were. But most importantly, you can also figure out who's servicing them, and then head over to their website to get more precise information - like monthly payments.
Armed with the knowledge of how much I'll be expected to fork out in January, I pulled together a spreadsheet where I deducted my various expenses from my salary (including anticipated deductions for health insurance, which starts next month), allowed for various other irregular expenses (like haircuts) and came out ahead. Not rolling-in-dough ahead, but ahead enough that I have a bit of discretionary spending money. Not much, but far more than I had last year when I was still in grad school. Essentially, I have to live until September much like I'm still in grad school, in terms of consumption. Why September? Because that's when I'm supposed to get my grade increase - the president may freeze my salary, but if I get a promotion I earn more, and there's not a thing he can do about that!
2) Find (and purchase) curtains for the sliding door, which lets heat out like a sieve.
After lunch, I hopped on the Metro up to Columbia Heights, for to get a Christmas tree, but first I stopped at Marshall's, my favorite knock-off store in the DC area (of course, I don't know very many others besides Filene's, so if you have recommendations, by all means leave them in a comment). I was just wandering through the home goods section when I cam across the curtains. And I suspected - correctly, it turns, out - that I had hit the jackpot.
You see, I have come to the conclusion, as the weather has gotten colder, that my windows leak. I'm not quite certain which way - if they leak heat out, or cold in - but I've had the heater in the dining room running non-stop for days, and this morning when I finally pried myself out of my warm bed my hands were so cold that I didn't even want to touch me. Now, I've had bad circulation for a while, but honestly, "hands of death" indoors, when you've had the heat on, is a bit much. So I decided that, even if I didn't need curtains aesthetically, I needed curtains to stay warm (thank Heaven I don't pay for heat).
This is what I eventually decided on:
They're not actually shiny - that's just the flash. They are, however, too short. This is because 84" is the longest standard curtain size one can find with any sort of ease, and my windows are floor-to-ceiling. Also, my curtain rods are somewhat higher than they should perhaps be, but that comes as no surprise, given who put them in (not me, and that's all I'll say). More importantly, they don't clash with the rest of the apartment - the tan basically matches the majority of the walls and the brown matches the accent wall - they cost less (both of them together) than a single panel would have cost at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and most importantly, they work. Ever since I put them up I've felt warmer, even though I haven't turned on any more heat. I'm sure that when I move somewhere with standard sized windows the curtains will fit better. For now, I'm just not going to worry about it. Who sells 96" curtains?
Also, I'm rather fond of the detailing on the rings. I'm just a bit weird like that.
3 Obtain a Christmas tree
After my triumphant purchase of curtains at Marshalls, I headed upstairs to case the joint at Target. I was unimpressed with the Christmas trees, and remembered seeing some in the catalog of Bed, Bath, and Beyond that shows up, unannounced and unsolicited, in my mailbox on an oddly irregular basis. The catalog also had a "20% off a single item" coupon in it, which was enticing, since I wasn't pleased with the prices at Target (not something I usually say, but perhaps someone decided to gouge holiday shoppers this year. Or maybe we haven't been harvesting as many artificial Christmas trees this year due to climate change or something). In the front of the store - thank the Lord, since going through Bed, Bath, and Beyond is sensory overload to an unpleasant degree - was my quarry. I got a 6.5 foot pre-lit tree for $40, after the coupon. Not too shabby.
Of course, when you unpack an artificial tree, it looks like hell. I remember reading reviews on Target of the various artificial trees, and inevitably, someone would complain that their tree didn't look like the picture. No, of course not, because your tree has been inside a box since it left China a couple of weeks ago, twit. Real trees may be messy and expensive and give some people (like my boyfriend) allergic reactions, but they have one jump on their artificial cousins: they don't have to be fluffed. My tree looked like it had been in a fight with a hay baler of a cylindrical (rather than cubic) persuasion, cross-bred with a poor-quality broom. So I set it up and commenced fluffing.
An hour or two later - I lost track of time, probably because I needed to stop and get a pill for my headache partway through - I was done, the tree properly fluffed. It's a lot of work - if you don't do it right, you'll be able to see right through the tree, and there's no sadder reminder that your tree is artificial than being able to look all the way through it. Or, worse still, looking into it and seeing wire.
So, properly fluffed (for the most part - I still need to do a bit here and there), here it is:
(Hooray for pre-lit trees, right?)
I'm also pleased that I was finally able to put the random black sheet (that I've had for years now) to good use - as a tree skirt. A very professional-looking tree skirt, I should add.
Now, I haven't done any decorating yet, but these are my ideas:
- paper chains or lattices (very fine, in either case) to help cover any remaining gaps; I could do the same with strings of beads, but I can make things out of paper (which is cheap), whereas I'd either have to buy materials for strings of beads and string them myself (ooh, fun) or just put out for strung beads. I'd rather do paper.
- homemade salt-dough ornaments, which my parents did when they were a young married couple without children
- a large something for the top of the tree. Not sure what that's going to be yet - at home it's an angel, but if I decide to make something, it's won't be an angel, as I'm just not that artistic. I am, however, going to Eastern Market tomorrow, so maybe I'll find something...
1) Draw up a budget for the new year, and determine that repaying my student loans will not entail grinding poverty and destitution.
I had been meaning to do this for a while, but this morning (after a languid hot shower which was far longer than strictly necessary - shoot me, environmentalists), I sat down and did it. Thanks to the National Student Loan Data System, I can draw up a page that details all of my federal loans (and, since all of my loans are federal, this means I can see all of my student loans). The site does lag behind by a month or so, so outstanding interest figures are behind, but sometimes you just need to know exactly how many loans you took out, and how big they were. But most importantly, you can also figure out who's servicing them, and then head over to their website to get more precise information - like monthly payments.
Armed with the knowledge of how much I'll be expected to fork out in January, I pulled together a spreadsheet where I deducted my various expenses from my salary (including anticipated deductions for health insurance, which starts next month), allowed for various other irregular expenses (like haircuts) and came out ahead. Not rolling-in-dough ahead, but ahead enough that I have a bit of discretionary spending money. Not much, but far more than I had last year when I was still in grad school. Essentially, I have to live until September much like I'm still in grad school, in terms of consumption. Why September? Because that's when I'm supposed to get my grade increase - the president may freeze my salary, but if I get a promotion I earn more, and there's not a thing he can do about that!
2) Find (and purchase) curtains for the sliding door, which lets heat out like a sieve.
After lunch, I hopped on the Metro up to Columbia Heights, for to get a Christmas tree, but first I stopped at Marshall's, my favorite knock-off store in the DC area (of course, I don't know very many others besides Filene's, so if you have recommendations, by all means leave them in a comment). I was just wandering through the home goods section when I cam across the curtains. And I suspected - correctly, it turns, out - that I had hit the jackpot.
You see, I have come to the conclusion, as the weather has gotten colder, that my windows leak. I'm not quite certain which way - if they leak heat out, or cold in - but I've had the heater in the dining room running non-stop for days, and this morning when I finally pried myself out of my warm bed my hands were so cold that I didn't even want to touch me. Now, I've had bad circulation for a while, but honestly, "hands of death" indoors, when you've had the heat on, is a bit much. So I decided that, even if I didn't need curtains aesthetically, I needed curtains to stay warm (thank Heaven I don't pay for heat).
This is what I eventually decided on:
Also, I'm rather fond of the detailing on the rings. I'm just a bit weird like that.
3 Obtain a Christmas tree
After my triumphant purchase of curtains at Marshalls, I headed upstairs to case the joint at Target. I was unimpressed with the Christmas trees, and remembered seeing some in the catalog of Bed, Bath, and Beyond that shows up, unannounced and unsolicited, in my mailbox on an oddly irregular basis. The catalog also had a "20% off a single item" coupon in it, which was enticing, since I wasn't pleased with the prices at Target (not something I usually say, but perhaps someone decided to gouge holiday shoppers this year. Or maybe we haven't been harvesting as many artificial Christmas trees this year due to climate change or something). In the front of the store - thank the Lord, since going through Bed, Bath, and Beyond is sensory overload to an unpleasant degree - was my quarry. I got a 6.5 foot pre-lit tree for $40, after the coupon. Not too shabby.
Of course, when you unpack an artificial tree, it looks like hell. I remember reading reviews on Target of the various artificial trees, and inevitably, someone would complain that their tree didn't look like the picture. No, of course not, because your tree has been inside a box since it left China a couple of weeks ago, twit. Real trees may be messy and expensive and give some people (like my boyfriend) allergic reactions, but they have one jump on their artificial cousins: they don't have to be fluffed. My tree looked like it had been in a fight with a hay baler of a cylindrical (rather than cubic) persuasion, cross-bred with a poor-quality broom. So I set it up and commenced fluffing.
An hour or two later - I lost track of time, probably because I needed to stop and get a pill for my headache partway through - I was done, the tree properly fluffed. It's a lot of work - if you don't do it right, you'll be able to see right through the tree, and there's no sadder reminder that your tree is artificial than being able to look all the way through it. Or, worse still, looking into it and seeing wire.
So, properly fluffed (for the most part - I still need to do a bit here and there), here it is:
I'm also pleased that I was finally able to put the random black sheet (that I've had for years now) to good use - as a tree skirt. A very professional-looking tree skirt, I should add.
Now, I haven't done any decorating yet, but these are my ideas:
- paper chains or lattices (very fine, in either case) to help cover any remaining gaps; I could do the same with strings of beads, but I can make things out of paper (which is cheap), whereas I'd either have to buy materials for strings of beads and string them myself (ooh, fun) or just put out for strung beads. I'd rather do paper.
- homemade salt-dough ornaments, which my parents did when they were a young married couple without children
- a large something for the top of the tree. Not sure what that's going to be yet - at home it's an angel, but if I decide to make something, it's won't be an angel, as I'm just not that artistic. I am, however, going to Eastern Market tomorrow, so maybe I'll find something...
Thursday, December 2, 2010
On Craftsmen
I have been remiss in my blogging lately because I have been assigned temporary duties at work which generally leave me too frazzed to write anything even mildly interesting, and because very little has happened in the past week that is of any interest to anyone, even me. Except one thing.
Plumbing.
Now, before you picture me being washed off the edge of my balcony by a raging flood of backed-up dishwater (or worse), allow me to clarify: the only thing at issue is my kitchen sink, and the problem appears to be not that it won't drain, but that it won't drain all the way, which I discovered Tuesday night after doing my dishes. Running the disposal somehow allows the water to drain from the sink, but not from the chamber directly under the basin which houses the disposal blades. I tried to unplug whatever's plugging the sink (if that's even the problem) with some drain cleaner, but even after leaving it in over Tuesday night, it didn't help. So, on my landlady's advice, I called the front desk after lunch today and asked them to send someone up to look at it.
I didn't expect that they would have accomplished this by the time I got home, but indeed they did. The only sign that someone was here was this note, scrawled in marker on a bit of paper towel:
I'm not sure who exactly wrote this note (a "Kay," perhaps? Or is it "Kg"?) but I find it oddly comforting. There is something comforting about having someone promptly attend to your problem and have a solution prepared all before you get home from work, rather than drawing things out for days or even weeks at a time (that's right, U.S. federal government, I'm looking at you). That, I think, may be the primary difference between craftsmen and bureaucrats - the one has a practical solution which can be implemented relatively quickly, while the other has six reams of paperwork to go through (half of which will contain errors) before he or she can do anything. This is why a good craftsman is a good thing to find indeed, and as anal as my complex may be about other things, I am grateful for their promptness in this matter. If this afternoon is any indication, all I need to do is clean out the cabinet under the sink tonight, and by the time I get home from work tomorrow my sink should be successfully snaked (that's a verb now) and back in working order. Thanks be for good craftsmen!
Plumbing.
Now, before you picture me being washed off the edge of my balcony by a raging flood of backed-up dishwater (or worse), allow me to clarify: the only thing at issue is my kitchen sink, and the problem appears to be not that it won't drain, but that it won't drain all the way, which I discovered Tuesday night after doing my dishes. Running the disposal somehow allows the water to drain from the sink, but not from the chamber directly under the basin which houses the disposal blades. I tried to unplug whatever's plugging the sink (if that's even the problem) with some drain cleaner, but even after leaving it in over Tuesday night, it didn't help. So, on my landlady's advice, I called the front desk after lunch today and asked them to send someone up to look at it.
I didn't expect that they would have accomplished this by the time I got home, but indeed they did. The only sign that someone was here was this note, scrawled in marker on a bit of paper towel:
I'm not sure who exactly wrote this note (a "Kay," perhaps? Or is it "Kg"?) but I find it oddly comforting. There is something comforting about having someone promptly attend to your problem and have a solution prepared all before you get home from work, rather than drawing things out for days or even weeks at a time (that's right, U.S. federal government, I'm looking at you). That, I think, may be the primary difference between craftsmen and bureaucrats - the one has a practical solution which can be implemented relatively quickly, while the other has six reams of paperwork to go through (half of which will contain errors) before he or she can do anything. This is why a good craftsman is a good thing to find indeed, and as anal as my complex may be about other things, I am grateful for their promptness in this matter. If this afternoon is any indication, all I need to do is clean out the cabinet under the sink tonight, and by the time I get home from work tomorrow my sink should be successfully snaked (that's a verb now) and back in working order. Thanks be for good craftsmen!
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