I got to work on Friday and got called into the Department Head’s office. I asked him if I was in trouble, and he went off in a little paean about how great I am and how little I deserve to be in trouble…and told me I was in trouble.

See, my position is Union-represented. Among the various benefits of this—which mostly affect the blue-collar Union-represented positions—and the costs of it—which mostly affect the white-collar positions like mine—is that, should a person be laid off from their job, she gets to look down a list of jobs with non-senior people in them, and just take one. “Bumping,” they call it.

So, Bush cuts the NIH budget—maybe this is trickle-down economics in action—and the next thing I know, someone laid off at another institute is taking my job. Nothing anyone can do about it. The left wing and the right wing of American politics have conspired to screw me over.

So tomorrow I get to meet with a Union representative so he can tell me my options—which, as I understand it, include taking any of several open positions on the Main Campus downtown (I will NEVER WORK DOWNTOWN AGAIN. And why couldn’t this laid-off woman take an OPEN position instead of a filled one?) or bumping some other person. I’m storing up a good supply of invective for the occasion. Here’s what I’m planning so far:

“I think this entire system is reprehensible. It ensures that pain and inconvenience are brought to the maximum number of people. I’m without a job, whoever is taking my position is going to be trying to fit herself into a position she is probably not well-suited for, and the institution, the scientists, and the research we are supposedly here for will all suffer. I will not condone or take advantage of a system which reduces people to interchangeable cogs in a machine.”

I’m not sure whether or not to add, “Take your bumping and shove it.”

This morning on the way to work, I saw a curious juxtaposition of bumper-stickers. One said “Bush Cheney 2004” and one said “John Kerry for President”. Bemused, I looked more closely at the non-standard Kerry bumper sticker, and saw that it said, after those words, “of France”.

I have had just about enough of all these idiots who have never been to France, never met a French person, and never taken a European History course acting like France is the cesspool of the Earth. France is the opposite of Freedom, apparently. The French are ‘surrender monkeys’. French cars have three turn signals, left, right, and ‘surrender’.

Guess what, America? Here are a few things to know about France. Without France, our entire country would not exist. That’s right, Washington may have cornered Cornwallis in Yorktown, but without the French fleet at his back, the Brit would have taken to the seas and given us the two-finger salute. The French won us our independence. The French also are responsible, through the messy, bloody tangle of the Revolution, for some of the boldest experiments in government ever made, let alone against the backdrop of the 18th century. Whatever the unhappy outcome of the French struggle for freedom and equality, it pretty much started the tide of modernity in Europe and affects that continent’s politics to this day. France, under Napoleon, much as I despise the little beggar, bestrode Europe like a colossus, and only the combined efforts of many frightened nations could bring her to heel.

All this history too ancient for you, America? Fine. Let’s talk about those World Wars, the ones that give rise to your lovely accusations of surrender monkeydom. Let’s have a little geography lesson. The bulk of both World Wars were fought on French soil. Mustard gas from the Great War still hangs in the hollows of some French countrysides. The French love of beauty and comfort has weathered hardships beyond the average American’s imagination. They’ve been bombed and occupied, oppressed and searched…if any one nation in the small circle of Western powers has the right to stand up against unnecessary war, it’s France. War has swept over France and left its mark indelible on her face. For that matter, France was dealing with terrorist problems while Dubya was still putting oil company executives on environmental boards in Texas.

So just leave off ragging on France, America. A nation where 65% of 18- to 24-year-olds cannot find France on a map has no right to demonize that country. Whatever its failings, its rich history and high ideals entitle it to some measure of respect. Vive la France!

I had a most curious communication today from one of my adoring (and, recently, bored) readers, asking if I might see my way clear to create a new feature, an advice column, that I might answer her question.

Being as how I am feeling both uninspired and duly flattered, I readily acquiesced. Here, then, is the situation:

Dear Faerye,

I don’t consume caffeine, and recently purchased the decaf version of the Republic of tea’s Ginger Peach (tea bag format). I’ve found that even if I brew the tea for seven minutes OR MORE, it just isn’t as flavorful as the caffeinated version I recall from wilder days. Is that because some of the flavor went south with the caffeine, or is there something I can do to make it more flavorful?

Thanks,

Wallowing In Bland Tea

Dear Wallowing in Bland Tea,

First of all, may I suggest that wallowing in your bland tea will not improve its flavor in the slightest, unless you wear a peculiar amount of fruit-derived beauty product.

Secondly, it is undoubtedly the case that some of the flavor will have indeed left the tea during the decaffeination process. While the Republic of Tea uses the best process for decaffeination, both in terms of natural, gentle substances and in terms of flavor retention, a little flavor will inevitably be lost, just as some caffeine will inevitably be left. There are a few possible ways to address this difficulty.

The first is to experiment with greater amounts of leaves. This is probably most easily and economically done by investing in loose leaf tea. You can experiment with the exact amount of tea you use in this way quite easily. I do not recommend extending the brewing time past the Republic’s suggested three to four minutes, as any flavor it may add to the tea will be offset by an increase in bitterness and other undesired notes.

Secondly, if you are unwilling to attempt the above process of loose leaf experimentation, I would recommend switching entirely to an herbal tisane of a naturally non-caffeinic variety. If you are looking for a perky, invigorating morning cup and are fond of the Republic, I might suggest their Lemon Wintergrass. If you are more interested in the salutory effect and distinctive bite of ginger, I would incline towards the truly excellent Orange Ginger Mint from the same purveyor. As well as its smooth, sweet blend of flavors, this particular infusion offers benefits to digestion and congestion.

I hope these recommendations have proved useful to you, Wallowing in Bland Tea, and that in future you will restrict your wallowing to less expensive liquids.

Sincerely,
The Faerye

P.S. If for any reason any of the rest of you nuts think you want my strange advice, e-mail me. If I am amused or inspired, your problems may be highlighted and mocked (anonymously of course) on my website!

How can you just sit there when Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow is coming out TOMORROW?

I have been foolishly, foolishly looking at the Vogue Patterns website, in the beautiful beautiful section where they reissue patterns from decades past, Vintage Vogue. I’m afraid I’m going to have to buy them all, especially the 1940’s ones, just in case they stop selling them. My sewing skills, I fear, are not sufficient to the task of creating any of these lovelies, but I can paw through them and wish and dream.

They even have HATS. sigh

Matthew and I have purchased the first season of Alias on DVD. Alias, in case you’ve been living under a Powerbook, is an extremely successful spy-thriller television show, starring Jennifer Garner. It pretty much made her career, so if you thought she was the least sucky part of Daredevil, you owe her debut show a look-see.

Everyone and their old maid aunt (no, wait, actually, everyone and their old pie-making Grandma, according to wonko) seems to love the show, which, in my snobby counterculture way, I assumed meant it couldn’t really be all that good. So Matt and I checked out the first disc from Netflix and were immediately hooked. It’s fast-paced, fairly cleverly written, and has enough tension to suspend a bridge. While their grasp of computers is laughable, they luckily don’t display their ignorance too often, usually sticking to standard espionage and infiltration stuff, which they do very well. They also duck back and forth from the main character’s life of intrigue and adventure to her mundane life with friends enough that the show maintains a varied and interesting texture.

The one thing to beware of, here, however, is this: they end almost every single episode on a cliff-hanger. Then they resolve the cliff-hanger before the credits of the next show (which leads to some fairly late credit sequences, let me tell ya.) This may be an effective way of getting your audience to tune in next week, but it’s downright evil on a DVD set, especially with the pretty little ‘Play All’ button on each disc menu…

In San Francisco, we spent the lion’s share of our free time at the National Park in Fisherman’s Wharf, which is a bunch of historic ships moored permanently at the Hyde Street Pier. Of course we spent the most time on the Balcuthla, a full-rigged sailing ship who had gone around the Horn a dozen times! We actually got to take a guided tour of her, which was splendid.

In the course of this tour, I learned a delightful piece of etymology! On sailing ships, of course, fresh water was at a premium, so it was doled out in measured amounts at specific times of day. All the sailors would gather ‘round the locked water barrel (the ‘scuttlebutt’) to get their water, and trade news. Hene, the word ‘scuttlebutt’! How’s that for primitive water-cooler gossip!

I said that I would do it and indeed I did!

At long and weary last, after saving for, give or take, MY ENTIRE LIFE (or, alternatively, over a year), I have utilized the power of the intarweb to place an order for a small and portable computer suspiciously named after fruit! I can barely contain my glee. It shall be mine! Yes! No earlier than next Tuesday, no later than next Friday, I will have my first laptop! BEHOLD!

And no, you don’t get to help name him. His name is Puck.

San Francisco is a place rather shockingly different from any I have previously visited. Never have I been in a place where nearly everything seemed to match in age, to belong in a specific time. It would be so easy to film a period movie there. Also, everything there looks faded—cheerful or garish pastels seem to whisper that they once were brighter, before the California sun. The hills seem to have tipped the houses down their flanks, cramming them into cozy closeness, and everywhere ornate ironwork, decorative stone, or crazy color schemes allow each row house to scream, “I am unique! I am different!” in its own special key. It is quaint and busy, individual yet still a big city: full of the reek of people, the breezy surety of its own importance, and the deafening havoc of life, traffic, music, commerce, death.

Not that my diligence of late has been astounding, but I must explain that there will be no blog article today, as I am bound to California for a wedding. I hope the inconvenience will be pardoned, and I should, I believe, return to this site on Monday.