So Geoffrey and I are back down from the mountain. We were only gone a day and a half, but we both feel like we had a nice little vacation -- a needed rest. We were back where trees are more numerous than cars and people are ... nice. Friendly, even. Yup, definitely a needed change.
The inn where we stayed was nice. Antique furniture in the rooms and all sorts of historic items (a ring with a lock of George Washington's hair, an old DC phone book about the size of three CD cases stacked from the 1820s, a telegram from John D. Rockefeller) in the downstairs lobby and restaurant areas. Perhaps one of the highlights of the trip came shortly after we arrived at the hotel -- we asked the clerk if, perchance, there was a Waffle House nearby, and it so happened there was, just a few exits away. So we got to eat at a Waffle House, for the first time since we moved here. Hash browns scattered and covered ain't never tasted so good.
The next day we hit Shenandoah National Park, very beautiful, very big. As we headed up the mountains toward our hiking trail, we noticed the tops of the peaks were icy. And then we were driving in the peaks, and it looked like freakin' Antarctica. Except in Antarctica there aren't trees, so that's a pretty bad way to put it. But it was icy and snowy and really cold. Pretty, yes, but scary, especially since we hadn't been expected any white stuff. When we found the trailhead and got out of the car, we almost got back in, it was so cold. But we'd come all that way ... so we put two thick coats on each and headed out. It was a pretty hike with lots of gorgeous leaves (even if some of them were coated in ice), but after a while we had to turn back because the ice was melting and falling off the trees, pelting us. I think we were near a pretty waterfall when we about-faced, but it was so foggy I don't think we would have been able to see it anyway.
After the hike we went to Skyline Caverns, a big cave right outside of Shenandoah Park. It was a little hokey, but neat. Lots of stalagtites and stalagmites, and something called an anthodite that exists only in that cave, nowhere else in the world. It's a crystal looking formation that forms in a vacuum, they think. Apparently it is a scientific mystery. Also of interest is a species of beetle with no eyes that was discovered there. It's teeny -- the size of a flea -- and scientists found only seven of them. So they took all seven out and shipped 'em off to the Smithsonian, where they promptly died. Gotta love turn-of-the-century science. So now the bug is extinct. But it lives on in our hearts and minds and in the magnet we bought at the gift shop.
So now back in the city, back at work. I was asked to be on a committee today, kinda exciting. Not the all-powerful design committee, alas, but a new one to help redesign the Stripes Web site. I know nothing about the Internet (unless it's making links or italics, which I am a pro at), but they say that's best. I'm supposed to stick up for the newsroom so advertising doesn't turn it into pop-up ad hell. So ideas, more than mechanics I think. Should be interesting ...
That's about all from here. It is Nov. 1, the first day of Novel Writing Month. After I post this I intend to dive in. Hope it goes OK. Kinda scary to think of. The people who run the event are so cool, though. They send pep talk e-mails and are so funny. Good times. My username is newsgirl, so you can check the site and read excerpts and see my word count as it grows and grows and grows!
LISTENING TO: LYLE LOVETT/Joshua Judges Ruth. He's still the best singer/songwriter ever, says me. If you don't have a Lyle Lovett album, you suck!
Stacy - 11:57 PM
Wednesday, October 30, 2002
I got my mandolin this morning! It's right nice, even if it is a cheapie. The strings and where you put your fingers are the same as a violin, which is basically the same as a viola, so I can already play scales on it and pick stuff out a little by ear. Chords, unfortunately, are not something I ever thought in terms of for viola, and they are different from what I know on guitar, so that'll be something more to learn. It'll also take some doing to get down the fast strumming that mandolins get, so I have my work cut out for me. I can already kinda play the mandolin part for R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion," which makes me pretty awesome, really. I also can sort of play "Wayfarin' Stranger." The slowest and most dramatic-pause laden version of "Wayfarin' Stranger" you've ever heard, but "Wayfarin' Stranger" nonetheless.
I accomplished a miracle today! I found a place to stay for next spring's Merlefest, which I assure you is no small feat. There's not much out there, in the hill country/mountains of western North Carolina, and what's there books up. Fast. But I found a cabin about 40 minutes away that seems pretty nice, and when I called to inquire this morning they actually had it available, so I jumped on it like any given duck on your proverbial junebug. So we'll be staying at something rather like this, and it just so happens we (as in me and Carlton, the ringleaders of this here operation) have room for a few more people should anyone else express an interest in joining us.
QUOTE OF THE DAY: Actually from last night, again from my mama. I paraphrase ...
ME: I got a mandolin!
MOM: Didn't you just buy some weird instrument last year? What was it ... a sitar?
ME: Um ... no. It was a mountain dulcimer.
MOM: Oh ... right.
Stacy - 12:33 AM
Sunday, October 27, 2002
Another stupid work gripe: We all get this e-mail from The Design Committee (caps added, sarcastically) announcing that we will now change the way we do photo credit lines, the main change being that we will no longer put the names of the photographer for wire photos. Which strikes me as bad. And then it strikes me as really bad, downright awful, come to think of it. So I'm good and mad, and I start bitching. And everyone around me heartily concurs. It seems no one, save the all-powerful autocratic Design Committee and our esteemed editor (yes, the same one who favors sleaze, as in scantily-clad World Bank female protesters, on the front page of our paper) likes this new policy, which was handed down with nary an explanation. A few of us cornered one person on The Design Committee, who said we did it to save space (which it doesn't, since we still list the wire service in the same spot) and because lots of other papers do it. (A) No one seems to know of any such papers (OK, except the Washington Times, but they hardly count), and (B) "because other papers do it" alone is a pretty lame reason to do anything, especially something dumb. My friend Karen went so far as to shoot an e-mail to The Design Committee and the editor with a very respectful, very thorough bulleted list of why stripping the photographer's name is unfair and unprofessional.
The editor's well-thought out, respectful reply? This: "Not to take anything away from photographers, many of whom work hard and
dangerously, but let's stick to the new rule of naming just the news service and the newspaper (which owns the photos, after all). However, if there is an especially great and exclusive shot the editors will have the option of using the photographer's name as well."
The man is a genius! So we're pretty well stuck. Which I'm pretty well sick of. Most places, at least someone will pretend to listen to your concerns and maybe, just maybe, be adult enough to give more thought to a decision. Here I feel like a freakin' factory worker. Don't think, just do. Turn the cog. Don't make noise. I don't regret leaving Anderson; it was time to move on. And I don't even regret coming here, because I've learned a lot about where I dont want to work and the kind of people I don't want to work under. But I don't know how much longer I'll put up with this. Until I find something else, I guess. Let's hope for sooner, not later.
Aside from the job front, the immediate future's looking bright. Geoffrey and I are getting the heck out o' town Wednesday night, for the first time since we moved here (Liz's wedding excepted). Out of the big city and back to nature. The plan is stay at an inn that was started in 1797 (but renovated more recently than that, be assured) Wednesday night, and then go hiking in the Shenandoah national park Thursday. We both really need this, so I'm looking forward to it.
Shout-out to Joe, who is the latest Chandler sickypants. Feel better, Joe. Eat lots of cheese.
LISTENING TO: WHISKEYTOWN/Pneumonia. Interesting to hear the contrast between Ryan Adams then and Ryan Adams now. All good stuff, but he's definitely forged his own trail since the band.
Stacy - 9:24 PM
