Snow in Kyoto

A few weeks ago, I took a public hearing for a county I'd never worked for before.

It started at the eminently reasonable hour of 5:30 p.m.

They had the room set up in a way that was incredibly thoughtful and convenient for the court reporter.

The council members were pleasant, intelligent, courteous people.

The attorney for the petitioner was equally pleasant, intelligent and courteous.

So what was the problem?

The attorney for the respondents.  He was as old as the hills.  He was deaf as a post.  He spoke through a mouthful of ill-fitting dentures.  He interrupted witnesses.  He interrupted the other attorney.  He interrupted the council members.  If I had to ask him to stop, or to repeat himself, he glared at me with a particularly virulent old-man glare, as though it were my fault.  His examinations were useless and redundant and long, long, long-winded.  We didn't get out of there until after 11:00, and it was entirely his fault.  And did I mention he used very bad grammar?

He single-handedly made this otherwise perfect job miserable.

I've been putting off doing the transcription for a couple of weeks now.  Yesterday, I finally bit the bullet and got to work.  Tomorrow, by 2:00 p.m. deadline (touch wood) it will be out of my house and out of my life.

Let the celebrating commence!

Who? Me?

I seem to have forgotten how to gracefully turn someone down when they ask me out.

It's just been so easy lately.  "Thanks, but I'm not a lesbian," "I'm old enough to be your mother, Sprout" and "I know your wife, asshole!" are pretty much no-brainers.

But what to say when a street-legal, eligible male you just don't fancy asks you out?  Especially when it's very public, and he's very persistent?

I suppose just legging it isn't the right answer.

I've never been good at this.

Putting down roots

Now that I've decided to stay here a while, I've been blissfully putting down some roots.

My father let me have some starts of his bamboo, and I've planted them along the fence line between my house and the road.  I'm hoping they'll grow into a goodish screen fairly quickly.  Because let me tell you, a screen is sorely needed.

"You know that girl who lives in that old house on the hill?"
"Yeah..."
"Guess what I saw her outside doing today!  Planting things!  In January!"

Judging by the faces of the people driving by, that scenario is undoubtedly happening all up and down my road tonight.  I feel like I live in a fishbowl.

It's actually an excellent time to plant bamboo.  It's still green, but it's dormant.  The weather is cool but not cold, and rainy, and it's supposed to stay that way for a while now.  I'm not saying it makes the most delightful conditions for being outside digging in the muck, but the bamboo will be happy.

It's also the Chinese New Year tomorrow.  It seems wonderfully auspicious to be outside planting green life this time of year.  And in Feng Shui, bamboo is lucky anyway! 

It's beautiful!

Night sounds

• The train in the distance
• Coyotes outside my window
• Owls hooting from the trees
• Bats fluttering overhead
• Tired people coming home
• My dog snoring

Liar, liar

A few months ago, I got annoyed at the scheduling department at work, and wrote them an email asking why they always assigned me to jobs so far away.  I was tired of spending four and five and six hours every day in the car.

They wrote back and said they just didn't have any work in my area.  I didn't necessarily believe them, but what can I do?  How do you prove something like that?

Well, since then, they've called me several times to see if I would work on days I've requested off.  And each and every time, they've managed to find a job that is close to home for me!  Isn't that strange?

I don't know about you, but I think their pants are on fire.  I think they figure largely in that Al Franken book Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them.

I think they can just find some other sucker to cover that job tomorrow!

In pursuit of my goals

I dragged out all my old court reporting school books and tapes today.

In the process, I found my Om Yoga in a Box and my J.K. Rowling Quidditch Through the Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which I had thought lost and gone forever.  Virtue is its own reward.

Then I started with Chapter 1 and worked through Chapter 2.

You see, the theory we learned was meant for realtime.  But my thoughts on realtime were "get the speed first, worry about the accuracy later."

What I didn't know was well before I was actually ready to leave school, a really good firm happened to need someone in my area.  They arranged to intern me on spec.  Then I had the misfortune to pass the national certification test.  (I've always been good at tests.)  And the rest, as they say, is history.

Six years later, here I am, with a steady income but incredibly sloppy style.

Heh.  The story of my life!

Hence, going back to the beginning.  And it's actually fun!

Hope

Last night, I came to a horrible decision.

As much as I hate living here, building a new house just isn't in the cards for me.

I need to concentrate on upgrading my equipment for work, and on finally learning to do realtime, so that I can be assured of having a job far into the future.  A new steno machine will probably run me somewhere between $3000 and $6000.  Then I have to upgrade my software so I can use it on my laptop.  Then I need to buy all the gewgaws that will let me hook up with attorneys' laptops so I can do the realtime.

It isn't going to be cheap.  It wouldn't be do-able at all if I had a much bigger house payment to make as well.

Oh, but then the good part.

A large part of the reason I decided to build here instead of moving somewhere else with pizza delivery and high-speed internet is because my family needs me right not.  My mother is taking care of my grandmother at home.  Grandma can't be left by herself for more than a few hours because she can't cook anymore, and because if she's left alone for too long, she starts getting strange ideas.  She had a brain hemorrhage a few years ago, and needs someone to talk to to stay focused on real life.  My mother's sister lives in Boston, and her brother can't or won't do anything to help.  My father works.  So there's only me to help mom out, and if I wasn't there, poor Mom would never get to leave the house.

But by the time I've upgraded my equipment and my brain and my fingers, maybe things will have changed.  Maybe I'll be able to move somewhere interesting and exciting.  Maybe even somewhere like London?  The BBC hires lots of American court reporters to do their captioning.  And there are lots of expat court reporting firms that do American depo work abroad.

I was saying I needed a grand passion?

E-X-P-A-T-R-I-A-T-E

Doesn't that have a lovely ring to it?

Now all I have to do is feel the same way tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the next day.

And the next day...

Yeah

Hi.

Been sick.

Very, very sick.

Sick of coughing.

Never mind.

What the world needs now

Is blood, sweet blood

To be specific, we need a new Dracula movie.  Something very dark and beautiful and faithful and overwrought.  Something with real English people in it, and real English accents.  Something without bloody Keanu Reeves in it.

Mmm.

Please.

Burn, baby... burn?

The bum exercises yesterday turned out to be a bit of a joke.  I'm not feeling the slightest twinge in the old gluteus maximus this morning.  I think my time would have been better employed doing the dreaded squats and lunges.  ~shudder~  I may have to troll around Cooking Light and find a better bum burner regimen.

The only trouble with the Cooking Light workouts is that they rely rather too heavily on props.  And let me tell you, an exercise routine that does not involve dragging things out of closets, rearranging half the house, and dumping things back into closets again when I'm finished is an exercise routine I'm more likely to stay on.

But I have to say, that arm workout today was the business!  That, I'll feel in the morning!

Mmm, exercise!

Certifiable

A - She's gone insane
B - It's been so long since she's exercised that she's forgotten where her exercise bands are
C - What the fuck else are you supposed to do with odd pairs of socks?
D - All of the above