personal

In review

Today started out a lot like yesterday, although not quite as rainy, and I did manage to make the earlier train into the city. By the time I reached Manhattan, the rain had all but stopped, which made the people still holding up umbrellas look a little silly. (Though I suppose you never do know when a sudden downpour might strike.) I got to the office and started in on some art therapy instructor materials we’re developing for one of our websites. Why, what do you while you’re waiting for the remaining chapters of your counseling older adults book?

I also had my yearly performance review this afternoon. I knew it was coming, since we had already filled out our self-evaluations, but my boss kind of sprung it on me this morning by e-mail. Not that I needed a lot of time to prepare — and the review itself went really well, actually — but I always find that sort of thing a little nerve-wracking, even under the best of circumstances. As I say, though, it luckily went very well, and I do feel very glad to be a part of this team at work.

Other than that, not a whole lot is new around here. They’re predicting snow for tomorrow, but, then, when aren’t they these days? I will say this: I am glad it’s almost the weekend again.

Tuesday’s almost done

Today was a pretty good day, if only because I managed to accomplish more at work than I expected to. I wound up having to buy a new umbrella — and Duane Reade and I are just going to have to agree to disagree about our definition a of “full-size” umbrella — when my old one fell apart in the wind and rain during the walk from Penn Station. Luckily it wasn’t raining enough to get me drenched, and I was wearing a hat, but if the entire day had been like my morning, I don’t think I’d have been too happy about it now.

But it wasn’t. It was actually a pretty decent, if not altogether remarkable day. Now, I think I’m going to maybe watch tonight’s episode of Lost, then go to bed, almost certainly in that order.

Pegging away

According to the trusty desk calendar, today’s bit of Forgotten English is “peg away,” meaning “to continue determinedly on one’s course.” That seems like an apt enough metaphor for today, which was mostly just your typical Mondayish Monday.

I didn’t sleep so well last night, so I got a later train this morning. And then I spent most of the day working on a counseling book I really need to get into production by the end of the month. Which, now that I look again at the calendar and exactly how much is left of said month, I don’t think I’m actually going to manage. The author still owes me a good five or six revised chapters, and I still have to read through them and make sure there’s no problem with the changes. It’s nothing I can force, and the author’s been really good about getting the work done, but it’s at times like this that I wish there were a few more weeks left in February.

I spent my lunch hour listening to this week’s Radiolab podcast — which I actually heard as the second half of this week’s This American Life — and I have to say, it left me a little shaken up. The whole TAL episode was great stuff, but Lucy’s story was particularly powerful and sad. It’s worth a listen, but don’t expect light and frothy fun.

In other news, my father had a procedure to hopefully fix the blurred vision he’s been having lately. I’d actually managed to forget that today was the day, so it was a little disconcerting to come home this evening and find him lying on the couch, in the dark, with a patch over one eye. He seems okay, though I don’t think the procedure was much fun, and there’s still the worry that it won’t have the desired effect. I’m not sure if he’s planning on going to work tomorrow, but at least the eye patch only has to stay on for a day.

And now, I think, it’s time for bed.

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

Well, that was Sunday.

It wasn’t a particularly exciting day. I spent it mostly watching some television and working on the New York Times crossword puzzle. My sister and her husband drove back to Maryland this evening, and I’m getting ready to turn in for the night. And beyond that, there really isn’t a whole lot to say about today.

A very gelastic day

Today’s word in my Forgotten English desk calendar is gelastic, “of or pertaining to laughter,” which seems appropriate since I spent the afternoon and evening in the good company of family out in Port Jefferson, at a surprise 60th birthday party for my mother.

We — and by “we,” I mostly mean my mother’s sister, who hosted us all today and invited everybody from New York and Connecticut — had been planning this since around Christmas. My mother was completely surprised. We’d told her that we were going out to dinner in Port Jeff, with my aunt and uncle, but in reality all of her brothers and sisters — my mother is the youngest of five — and assorted nieces and nephews were there to surprise her.

It was a good day. But I did all the driving, and now I’m kind of tired. So I think I’ll just leave you with this anecdote, also from today’s calendar page, from the life of “English actor, director, and theater impresario” David Garrick, born this day in 1717:

Once, while he was performing the title role in King Lear, Garrick suddenly and unexpectedly exited the stage during the emotional conclusion of the play’s fifth act, followed one-by-one shortly afterward by the other actors. Garrick was neither ill nor insane, but had merely been unfortunate enough to notice that in the center of the pit’s front row a large attentive mastiff was seated in an erect position beside its owner, with its paws propped on a railing and head upright. Due to the excessive temperature of the candlelit theater, the canine’s master had removed his wig and, having nowhere else to put it, placed it temporarily on the acquiescent pooch’s head. Garrick had unsuccessfully attempted to conceal his uncontrollable reaction to the dog, which he had hoped in vain that the others would not see in order to allow the play to end with dignity.