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Apr. 27th, 2021
yet another decision!
Apr. 27th, 2021 02:58 pmI finally pulled the trigger and put a deposit on some new windows, getting that ball rolling. The "measure man" comes out next week, and then the windows get ordered, and then when they come in I get a call to get on the installation schedule. But I just got a call back from the window sales guy saying that I actually have 2 options for the "prairie" style grids (a.k.a. grilles, munions, sashes, glazing bars)--- top & bottom OR top only.
At first I was like, hey, yeah, top only! I think I like that better. But then I made up this comparison pair of images for myself, from a internet picture of a similar window situation, and now I'm thinking maybe both after all. They're the same danged price!
Decisions like I've been working on can sap me, and the decision to add the prairie grid has been a fun part, making it feel like I'm getting a little aesthetic thing for my pleasure to go with the business-like adult-ery of, you know, buying freaking windows.
Maybe I'll go stand in the nursery and regard them from inside. Put masking tape up on the old windows to simulate. Nah I won't go that far, but ... Is it possible I used up my decision-making reserve for the day already? That's not good, if so. I have a lot of work decisions to make this afternoon and evening.
I suppose when you open the bottom windows a bit, the look while they're open would be cleaner if the bottom windows were sans their own grilles. But having all 4 the same has better symmetry.
Nobody's gonna see these freaking windows from the street. Makes it funny that I'm getting a small additional discount for letting them put a sign in my yard. Like, do you really want passers-by thinking you installed the way-old windows that are visible to them?
Ah well. Here's a pat on my back from me for getting this far.
At first I was like, hey, yeah, top only! I think I like that better. But then I made up this comparison pair of images for myself, from a internet picture of a similar window situation, and now I'm thinking maybe both after all. They're the same danged price!
Decisions like I've been working on can sap me, and the decision to add the prairie grid has been a fun part, making it feel like I'm getting a little aesthetic thing for my pleasure to go with the business-like adult-ery of, you know, buying freaking windows.
Maybe I'll go stand in the nursery and regard them from inside. Put masking tape up on the old windows to simulate. Nah I won't go that far, but ... Is it possible I used up my decision-making reserve for the day already? That's not good, if so. I have a lot of work decisions to make this afternoon and evening.
I suppose when you open the bottom windows a bit, the look while they're open would be cleaner if the bottom windows were sans their own grilles. But having all 4 the same has better symmetry.
Nobody's gonna see these freaking windows from the street. Makes it funny that I'm getting a small additional discount for letting them put a sign in my yard. Like, do you really want passers-by thinking you installed the way-old windows that are visible to them?
Ah well. Here's a pat on my back from me for getting this far.
Bow Tie Tuesday
Apr. 27th, 2021 08:56 pmDusk now, and I feel good about the spate of work I just got done. I'm ready for my trainee in the morning, and I've got the agenda notes for our dept meeting in the afternoon ready too. Plus an outline. And I think I'm gonna tell the folks at the beginning of the meeting, when I put up the outline for them to follow along, about this time when I was in college and went to some literary lecture in the room in the upstairs back corner of the library, where a few dozen of us were arranged in tight rows and gamely waiting to see what would unfold from whoever the heck it was who'd come to talk to us about whatever the heck it was.
There was one of those big chalkboards on a stand---I'm remembering it as the kind you can flip over via the axis that meets the frame at the midpoint of each side of large rectangle, but I may be wrong about that part---and the speaker'd put up an outline of many points to be covered in the talk. And the talk began. He addressed the first point, and then addressed it some more, and then added more detail about the first point, and then expounded on those details, and added others, and perhaps digressed, and then mentioned some other things, still about the first point.
The sun went down. The speaker continued. It was all still about the first point. We were educated captive audience members; we knew which point he was on. We knew that time had gone by. That at least an hour had gone by. It was dark, and the speaker was still on the first point.
Talk about the palpable sense of rising mutual anxiety. I'm sure it was some form of irony. And I'd know exactly which one, and in painfully painstaking detail, if that subsection of the Universe of irony had been the subject of Point One. Or perhaps I wouldn't! Perhaps I'd block it entirely, as I seem to have blocked the subject of that lecture and the identity of the lecturer, and even how we got out of it. Probably someone stood up to say that the library was closing. Or who know. I just remember that outline, and have a certain amount of trepidation anytime a speaker puts up an outline of what we're going to be going through in the gathering that's just commenced. "Uh-oh...." my inner gut spirit child utters, while also immediately trying to calm herself and point out (succinctly) that that old traumatic experience is not the usual in these situations. But that doesn't mean we're not still a little scared, me and that inner guy spirit child. For we are.
We're even a little scared that way when planning to plunk up our own such outline!
Here's today's bow tie:
And the shot I sent the guys is ( here. )
I have a lot more selfies now that I started sending pandemic shots of me in bow ties to my fellows.
That tie was the first reversible one I made. But I intend it, as the artist, to be tied with the flowers prominent, like this, and the green more like a stem.
Today the temperature was suddenly in the 80s, after only a few days that'd even gotten into the 70s here so far this year, and a recent spate of highs in the 50s. Next up is a bit of rain. But it's time to take the last two storm windows off. The ones that are harder to get to. One of which has my blue-light peace sign on it (which just looks like a glob of blue light, from down the street). (The toddler is aware of it; I saw her pointing at it and her dad saying something about yes, the blue light is on.) (It's always on, but only shows up when the sun's heading for its loop around the other half of the globe.)
My new windows won't have storm windows. They won't need them. They have layers of glass built in. So weird.
I kinda got the itch to upgrade one of my living room windows too, but talked myself down. Three is enough for now. There's a lot stlll needs doin' 'round here. But dang if I'm not making a little progress.
There was one of those big chalkboards on a stand---I'm remembering it as the kind you can flip over via the axis that meets the frame at the midpoint of each side of large rectangle, but I may be wrong about that part---and the speaker'd put up an outline of many points to be covered in the talk. And the talk began. He addressed the first point, and then addressed it some more, and then added more detail about the first point, and then expounded on those details, and added others, and perhaps digressed, and then mentioned some other things, still about the first point.
The sun went down. The speaker continued. It was all still about the first point. We were educated captive audience members; we knew which point he was on. We knew that time had gone by. That at least an hour had gone by. It was dark, and the speaker was still on the first point.
Talk about the palpable sense of rising mutual anxiety. I'm sure it was some form of irony. And I'd know exactly which one, and in painfully painstaking detail, if that subsection of the Universe of irony had been the subject of Point One. Or perhaps I wouldn't! Perhaps I'd block it entirely, as I seem to have blocked the subject of that lecture and the identity of the lecturer, and even how we got out of it. Probably someone stood up to say that the library was closing. Or who know. I just remember that outline, and have a certain amount of trepidation anytime a speaker puts up an outline of what we're going to be going through in the gathering that's just commenced. "Uh-oh...." my inner gut spirit child utters, while also immediately trying to calm herself and point out (succinctly) that that old traumatic experience is not the usual in these situations. But that doesn't mean we're not still a little scared, me and that inner guy spirit child. For we are.
We're even a little scared that way when planning to plunk up our own such outline!
Here's today's bow tie:
And the shot I sent the guys is ( here. )
I have a lot more selfies now that I started sending pandemic shots of me in bow ties to my fellows.
That tie was the first reversible one I made. But I intend it, as the artist, to be tied with the flowers prominent, like this, and the green more like a stem.
Today the temperature was suddenly in the 80s, after only a few days that'd even gotten into the 70s here so far this year, and a recent spate of highs in the 50s. Next up is a bit of rain. But it's time to take the last two storm windows off. The ones that are harder to get to. One of which has my blue-light peace sign on it (which just looks like a glob of blue light, from down the street). (The toddler is aware of it; I saw her pointing at it and her dad saying something about yes, the blue light is on.) (It's always on, but only shows up when the sun's heading for its loop around the other half of the globe.)
My new windows won't have storm windows. They won't need them. They have layers of glass built in. So weird.
I kinda got the itch to upgrade one of my living room windows too, but talked myself down. Three is enough for now. There's a lot stlll needs doin' 'round here. But dang if I'm not making a little progress.