"Creeper Culture"

     A precise label eludes me.  On the one hand, you've got TV talent with remote door locks, pervy doctors, and film directors or producers who have taken the "casting couch" cliche to boggling extremes; on the other, you have doddering, clumsy or juvenile types who sometimes put their hands where they oughtn't.

     Both are bad but surely there are different levels of badness, and different appropriate responses?  Often there is a drastic power imbalance inhibiting the right response to low-level creepering -- if your boss or a county judge pats your bottom, you're a lot less likely to give them hell (cold stare, shocked comment, a good slap) for it that you would a random guy in line at the five-and-dime; and once they've gotten away with the low-level stuff, some of  them don't stop there.

     In all the denouncing and firing, I notice a few who might've have been shoved towards proper decorum if they'd been backhanded by their chosen victims early and often; others seem, at least in hindsight, to have been utterly predatory, as set on their path as a shark. Many of the latter appear to have exercised a predator's judgment in their choice of prey, going after the weakest.

     Some kind of tipping-point has been passed; a series of high-profile arrests (Jerry Sandusky, Larry Nasser, Jared Fogle) may have been the earliest signs, followed by accusations against Bill Cosby and the UK's Jimmy Saville.  Or maybe we just passed some kind of "critical mass" of women in management -- nothing personal, guys, but I have been on the receiving end of too many "I'm sure he didn't mean it/he's just a diamond in the rough/think of the team" chats with managerial higher-ups, men who simply can't (or won't) conceive that such misbehavior was seriously meant.

     Things have changed.  It's too early to tell if this first big shift points to greater concern for such things in workplaces generally, or if it will trail off in tabloid-headline trivia.  I'd like to think the good old-fashioned withering glare, stern comment and stinging slap will stage a comeback in response to creepy comments, worrying situations and wandering hands.

That Was Interesting

     Once the computers had decided my insurance card was okay -- don't ask me, it was perfectly good for my previous visit to the same doctor -- the Ear, Nose and Throat specialist was brisk: "I can't tell how you're pulling air through your nose at all, Ms. X."

     Some of my sinuses aren't there (the frontal sinus, roughly behind your eyebrows, develops as you grow, except sometimes it doesn't.  This is not uncommon).  The rest of them are either full or blocked.  The lovely labyrinth of passages you never notice unless you're outside on an extremely cold day and feel parts of it freeze together and unstick on every inhalation and exhalation?  Mine has a lot of dead ends.  My septum is curved to one side. 

     This does explain why I occasionally wake myself by snoring, not to mention the recurring sinus infections.  It may even help with my headaches and dizziness.

     Some of it -- most of it, I hope! -- can be ballooned clear, literally sneaking in with some kind of inflatable widget and opening things up.  Some of it may need whittled on.  Insurance permitting, I am scheduled for surgery on the 20th of December and should pretty good by the 25th.  The days in between don't sound like fun.

     Other than one ENT correcting an irritated nerve left by a previous surgery, this is the first time in my long history of sinus woes that a doctor has come in with definite problems and a plan to address them.  So I'm feeling hopeful.

"Bzzz...This Is A Recording...Click...Beeep!"

     Yeah, yeah, Roberta X here, live and direct from last night, because today, I'm off early in the morning to see my Ear, Nose and Throat specialist, who is going to read the auguries of my sinuses to me -- and without even having to hack them free and lay them out on the table, which is a considerable improvement on the old Roman model.

     What do I expect?  Nothing.  I've danced this dance before and it has come up empty every time; but it has been more than fifteen years since the last round and who knows, maybe there's something to see or some improvement to be made.  It's highly unlikely either of those will be the case, so I'm not looking for anything more than a guided tour of my sinus cavities, led by an expert guide who has hunted many similar caverns and knows what to watch for. ("I'll remain here in the van while Jim ascends the nasal concha to search for the entrance to the frontal sinus and whatever strange creatures dwell within....")

The Country Is Still Purple

     Despite remarkably polarized rhetoric (and the usual conflicting characterizations of the President, who no one seems to remember is just the guy we hire to shake hands with kings, deal with high-level personnel and keep the various branches of the Armed Forces from excessive spatting), the country is still purple.

     Your neighbors are who they are and they're likely going to keep on being who they are, just as you will.  And those revealing purple maps?  That was originally invented as an exercise for a freshman programming course.  It's not rocket science: we live in a remarkably assorted nation and elections for political office are just one day.  How you get along with your neighbors for the other 364 matters quite a lot -- the guy next door doesn't run the economy any more than you, but he's a lot better situated to lend you a hand (and you to him) than anyone in Congress or your state legislature.

So Early...!

     It was "so early" when I got up for work -- and somehow, it still feels way too early.  But it isn't.

Why...Hello!

     Yes, I am here -- kind of caught in the gears of a transition between a late-evening shift and an early-morning shift.  Automation lets my employer do more -- a lot more -- with fewer people but the downside is that when someone is out on extended sick leave (the Ops side is down one) or vacation (one from Ops and two from Engineering), scheduling people to cover what needs covered gets complicated.  With three sets of schedules -- Engineering and IS now babysit one another's kittens -- under two supervisors and one foreman, who are not on the same shifts themselves, "complicated" may be an understatement.

     Could be worse -- maritime watchstanding schedules aim to screw over everyone equally while ensuring the ship gets looked after, and you end up with patterns that are far trickier to adjust to, especially if you don't start it young and fit.

Roseholme Thanksgiving Dinner

     The menu was a little less elaborate than it has been in past years; we're trying to eat in a healthy manner, even on "cheat" days.  Still, Tam and I did well:

Tamara Keel photo

     A small turducken roll (3.25 pounds of turkey, duck, chicken, andouille sausage and stuffing), mashed cauliflower with bacon gravy,* small green salads (and cornbread for me). Add beverage of choice and, if desired, eggnog for dessert.  It worked out well, I think, and didn't leave us too full to move afterward.
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* Yes, bacon gravy.  Not too difficult to make, though it is easy to make too much roux and weaken the flavor if you don't watch yourself.  Bacon fat and flour to make a medium-dark roux, then you turn off the heat, stir in milk and water or (better) good stock, put the stove back to medium heat and cook until it thickens, with the heat off while the cooked bacon crumbled back in after the gravy is cooked and allowed to sit over a very low fire for at least five minutes for the flavor to "marry."  From starting the roux (sift small amounts of flour from your fingertips into the hot fat until there's enough -- remember, stirrer in the pan, not fingers!) to right before you crumble in the bacon, your stirrer never stops moving -- I use a small, plastic spatula.  Salt, pepper and so on as desired.

Thanks!

     Thank you for being out there, and for reading and sometimes responding!

About That Rand Paul/Neighbor Thing

     GQ has a little more insight.  A little snarky near the end but the basic tale as they construe it rings pretty true to my ear.

     Tl;dr version is, "neighbor-type dispute over lawncare methods, between a couple of quirky guys."

The Day Before The Day

     Be careful out there, please?  Here in the Midwest, we've got a snoot-full of Winter, or as close as you can get without snow up to your tailbone.  Jack Frost has had a nip or two already; it's just freezing and while we'll claw up out of that today, we're not going to get far.

     Roads are already jammed, so mind how you go, as you head through the river and over the woods (oh, dear) for Grandmother's house.

     Here at Roseholme Cottage, Thanksgiving will be the usual quiet, gustatory event, with turducken and some kind of bacon gravy -- mashed cauliflower will likely replace the usual mashed tatties (despite my tears: I grew up thinking potatoes in every form were an essential nutrient and you'd probably fall ill if you didn't have them several days a week) and there may even be salad.  Possibly a libation or two.  What wine with turducken -- or do you take a small whiskey, instead, while hoping the patchwork beast doesn't break free of its restraints?

     I hope you and yours find many good things for which to be thankful.  As for me, it's the season of Holiday Specials and I'm off to a bit of a rehearsal today, with the real thing to follow come Friday.  I'll be thankful if we get through it with the minimum of fuss and bother.

No. Just No.

     I dug around over at CNN this morning, looking for something to comment on.  It's just depressing.  I don't mind a deadlocked Congress or the Press yapping at the heels of the White House: all Presidents ought to be closely watched (alas, some are watched less by the mainstream media than others, but I'll take it when I can get it) and a Congress that can't get much done is a Congress that can't make things much worse: like Enrico Fermi, I have reached the conclusion that most political change is for the worst, no matter who's pushing it or how much I admire their intentions.

     But politicians are such children -- no better than their contemporaries in Hollywood, who they resemble more and more with every passing year. We're wired up to live in small groups, without a whole lot of socioeconomic distance between the fat cats on top and the losers who haul out their trash on the bottom; we're wired up to breed young, get the kids raised, and be out of the way as soon as the next generation doesn't need babysitters for their offspring.  We're wired up to live on fairly short rations and to hanker after the stuff that's not so easy to come by -- rich meat, salt, fats, sweets.  We get too much of the last four and almost none of the rest; most people go through life riled up about one part of the shortfall or another and never understand why.  It's why we get creepers, and envy, and all manner of abuses of power and such badness, and not a bit of it is quickly fixable if it can be fixed at all.

     But money and power are amplifiers.  If you're a little creepy or obnoxious at minimum wage, just wait 'til you're managing the fast food joint -- or when you own a whole string of them and wind up on the City Council.  A good many of the dull, boring, old-fashioned and/or arbitrary rules of society are roughly aimed at keeping our worst impulses in check (or, perhaps unfortunately, well-hidden) and when you throw off those "tired old strictures," you're damned unlikely to wind up building a paradise on Earth.  We're much better at building our own Hells and purgatories -- and we have.  This is a hell, at least, and some of the biggest demons are on campaign posters and in movie ads.

     And we don't even get a seat next to fire near Mark Twain. 

Education

     I took another class at the Indiana Writers Center Saturday: "Finishing Your First Novel (and your second)."  Pretty good stuff, with due attention to plotting and structure.  I am hoping it will help get me off top dead center with Dropping In.  Presently warming up with a top-to-bottom rewrite of The Veteran, intended to move it from a detailed character sketch to more of an actual story.

     Time, as they say, will tell.  Plenty of people would like to write; some of them do write; some write pretty well.

     The same instructor taught a course on self-publishing, in the general Kindle Direct Publishing model.  He's making fair money at it, which is as good a recommendation as can be had.  The class will likely return next year and I'll be looking for it.

     The Writer's Center itself is moving, or at least its main classroom space (etc.) is moving.  While the occasional class sets up at charming Marian University, IWC has mostly been renting space at the Indianapolis Art Center, a 1934 WPA survival that outlasted its Federal funding by pluck, luck and the contributions of members to become a charitable foundation with its own splendid classrooms and gallery space...and is now so busy with its own work and so sought-after as an event venue that rents have gone up.  The new IWC location will be in a new artist's workspace opening up on downtown's Massachusetts Avenue, the Circle City Industrial Complex.  Seems to have a brewpub, which means there's a good chance of at least soft drinks and munchables -- possibly even coffee, which is sadly lacking at the present space, a smallish classroom/office building on the Art Center campus.  Alas, no longer a quick bicycle ride for me, but it will be well within motor-scooter distance.