Ashes To Ashes

I finally got my hands on the first season of the BBC show Ashes To Ashes. This is sort of a “sequel” to Life On Mars, with all the main characters except Sam Tyler. This time it's a woman, Alex Drake who gets to “go back in time”.

I won't give away any huge spoilers (I'm hoping BBCAmerica will be kind enough to run these at some point). The story goes that Sam Tyler supposedly lived out the remainder of his life in the 70's, and criminal profiler Alex Drake has been studying his notes about having traveled back to 1973. Of course, she thinks he's a complete loon, until she's shot and finds herself back in 1981 London (instead of 1973 Manchester) with Gene Hunt, Chris Skelton and Ray Carling.

I blew through the 8 episode series in about a week, and it was very cool. Especially Gene Hunt. The writing wasn't as good as Life On Mars though. There were cringe-worthy scenes with Alex meeting her parents, and I found myself thinking, “If Alex Drake studied Sam Tyler's notes on his experiences in 1973, then why didn't she learn something from them?”.

The best episodes were the very first one and the very last one. In between those episodes, adventures ensued. Oh, and there's a David Bowie clown who starts off creepy, then just becomes annoying. Like a stalker. If I was Alex Drake, I think I would've decked him after the 3rd sighting – imaginary construct or not.

Overall, I enjoyed this series and would definitely go back and watch them again. I understand a second series has been commissioned, and I'm looking forward to seeing that eventually.

So here's a bit of the first episode, courtesy of YouTube. A most excellent introduction of Alex Drake to the infamous Gene Hunt.

Sis - if you're reading this, I think you'll enjoy!

I Need To Move Somewhere Warm

It was 8 degrees Fahrenheit this morning, here in beautiful Northeast Pennsylvania.

It's expected to drop to -5 snot-freezing degrees tonight.

I think there's an expected high of 15 by Friday.

I need to move somewhere warm.

It's Not Easy Being Teen

Mom: “Wait for the school bus to stop before walking in front of it, okay? “

Teenager: “What's the big deal? The bus isn't going to hit me.”

Mom: “You don't know that. The road's icy. Just wait by the car til the bus stops.”

Teenager: “It takes too long! If I wait til the bus stops, I'll hold up everyone else.”

Mom: “You're only 20 feet away. It takes about 5 seconds to get from the car to the bus! This isn't Speed .”

Teenager: “Can I sprint to the bus once it stopped?

Mom: “Sure, if you want to skid on the ice and fall on your butt. Imagine how long you'll hold everyone up if you break your neck? Or get hit by a car?”

Teenager: “Mom!” That's not going to happen! You worry too much.”

Mom: “Sorry. It's my job.”

In Real Life

Forgive me if posting is light. We're implementing the largest conversion ever at work, and it's had me working 16 hour days.

I'm hoping to be back to normal again by Thursday :)

Coming up: Shiseido Hydro Powder Eye Shadow, Wexler Eye Cream and Hope In A Jar

Instant Mess

I used to think of instant messaging as something the kids use, with generous helpings of OMG, ROFL, TTFN and smiley faces.

Now it's invaded the workplace - including mine.

My company requires us to log into IM during work hours. I ignored it for the better part of a year, until the whining became too loud. Since I happen to like getting paid, I gave in.

It wouldn't be so bad if I could limit the people who can see me online. Or if I could prevent it from going to “inactive” status every time I go to the toilet.

Normally these settings could be altered, but like many corporate applications, it's locked down and the settings can't be changed easily. (Yep, there's always the registry, but let's not go there. I try to “play nice” with our LAN Desktop people.)

Instant messaging is particularly aggravating when you're working against the clock to resuscitate a server that just ate itself, and Joe Smith on the other side of the country is IM'ing that he'd like a new field on his TPS report.

It doesn't matter if I set my status to “Busy” or “Away”.

“Away” as in “Not Here”.

“Gone”.

“Casper the Ghost”.

How am I supposed to answer? I'm good, but I'm not telepathically tied to my laptop.

LOL, I say.

Happy Holidays !

Sorry posting is light this week. So much going on between getting ready for Christmas and my office trying it's best to make me insane.

I'm working on a Laura Mercier post for December 26th.

In the meantime, here is this year's Doctor Who Christmas Special from Children In Need:




Have a wonderful holiday!

Have You Tried Turning It Off And On Again?

The first time I experienced the joy of being “on call” was around 8 years ago. It was a weekend riddled with code installs, data conversions and other minor disasters. I literally didn't sleep or shower for 3 days.

Back then, we weren't staffed 24x7, so when something blew up, you immediately got called. This wasn't a big deal during the day, but sucked royally at 3:00am. Nowadays, the only time I lose beauty sleep is if there's a huge problem that night shift can't handle.

Unfortunately, we have one guy that calls no matter what. The conversation invariably goes like this:

ME: “Mrrrgh.”

Mr. Vagueness: “Ah, yes. Hello. The application is getting an error.”

ME: “Mrrrgh.....error? What error.....what application? Can you give me some details?”

I support 10 applications. There are literally thousands of errors which could occur. It never occurs to him to provide any coherent details.

This is the equivalent of going to the doctor and telling him you have a pain. Somewhere.

Bad Hair Of Youth

I grew up in the 70s and 80s when huge, bad hair was the norm. When I say bad, I don't mean Michael Jackson “Bad”. I mean really, really dreadful.

It all started with Farrah Fawcett's trend setting “feathered” hairstyle. It looked great. On her. You see, Farrah's hair wasn't stiff and weirdly shaped. Somehow when this style translated to the rest of us, it morphed into solid tubes of hair. Here's my depiction of that glorious 'do:

Here in Northeast Pennsylvania, we took this to another level:

1.) Begin by getting a curly perm, then blow it out with a round brush to get a whoosh of feathers.

2.) Spray with Aquanet.

3.) Set curling iron on High. Proceed to curl the feathers into giant rolls. Repeat until you get the perfect roll, or your hair begins smoking.

4.) Spray with Aquanet.

5.) Slowly brush hair from the back end of the curl tube, moving horizontally, pulling the tube of curls to the back of your head.

6.) Spray with Aquanet.

Usually we concentrated so much on perfecting the sides, that we neglected the back. Sometimes it left a big, flat spot back there - which made the sides even more wing-like. Or the side curls circumnavigated the entire head, leaving the back looking like a cross between Darth Vader's helmet and a duck's bottom.

So in an attempt to make my hair do the impossible, I had split ends, bad perms and crunchy hair. I also drove my parents insane with the amount time it took to perfect this look each morning. Thankfully, I learned my lesson about 20 years ago.

What goes around comes around.

Now I know how my parents felt, and how ridiculous the entire styling process was. I get to see it every morning when my own daughter gets ready for school.

She just loves that flat iron.

Silvertown

Silvertown is more than a memoir. It's a fascinating tale, and a tribute to human spirit and endurance.

This book came from author Melanie McGrath's research on her grandparents, Jenny and Len Page, who lived in London's East End at the turn of the century. Jenny is the main focus of the story, which begins with her birth in 1903 London. The story follows her through an impoverished childhood, her first job at 14 in the sewing sweatshops, WWI, the death of her sister to typhoid, and the loss of all her teeth on her 17th birthday. What follows a rough childhood, is an even rougher marriage to Len Page. Jenny raises her family, manages to live through WWII and the London Blitz, and her husband's infidelity.

The most poignant account was Jenny's 17th birthday. Her mother took her to what I believe was the equivalent of the local butcher, who proceeded to extract all of Jenny's teeth without any pain medication. Afterwards, Jenny was fitted with a set of porcelain dentures. What McGrath manages to eloquently convey is that it wasn't done to be cruel, or without her mother's sympathy. This type of tooth extraction was common practice back then; done to avoid the medical bills involved with dentistry. It also had the added benefit of making the young lady easier to marry off since the prospective husband wouldn't need to worry about her dental bills.

I'm sure this sounds incredibly depressing, but it was not. The manner in which McGrath tells this story is uplifting. It made me feel good about the strength and tenacity of human beings. Not only that, but McGrath paints a vivid picture with her words. I felt I could really see the old East End, and the characters in my mind.

The only complaint I have is that we didn't get to see how Jenny's children fared. Obviously they survived and did well, since Melanie McGrath is here to tell this tale. According to Amazon.co.uk, there is a sequel being released in 2009, so hopefully that book will fill in the blanks.

Silvertown, An East End Family Memoir was written by Melanie McGrath and published in 2002 by Fourth Estate (Harper Collins). It's a shame this book is only a few years old and it's already out of print. However Amazon has it available from several used book dealers at good prices. Highly recommended.

Feathers?

The frost crystallized in a really weird way this morning (click on photo for better detail):

It's hard to believe that's the hood of the car. It looks like feathers or palm trees. Maybe the Winter Wench is thinking of sunny Hawaii?

On the way: Maybelline Define-A-Lash, Rimmel Shock Gloss, and possibly a book review.