Anti-Social

On June 25, I was criticized for not being on Facebook. So the next day I joined. And then the next day, I opened a FriendFeed account. And now I've got people pestering me to be on Plurk.

Enough already.

Initially, Facebook filled me with Third Grade anxieties -- "What if so-and-so won't be my friend?" Then came the Ninth Grade anxieties -- "Should I join groups? Are groups un-cool? What about flair? Is that cool? I don't want to be un-cool." Then it just settled down into lots of invitations to play games. I suck at Scramble. I hold my own at WordTwist. I dominate at Sudoku.

I have a blog because it was the easiest way to create a web-presence, and occasionally I do have something I want to say. I have LibraryThing and Ravelry because I like to keep track of what I read and knit. That seems to be about it.

So I'm instituting a new rule: no more social networking applications without a clear purpose and direct relevance to my life -- my first life, and its relevant on-line tools and extensions. I have no need to create a Second Life.

Professional?

XRX is having a sock design context, Think Outside the SOX. I'm intrigued by a couple of the contest categories: Bearfoot's "Not Cuff Down," and Universal Yarn's "Most Masculine." (Shut up. My knitting is very butch.)

The hitch is that it's an amateur contest. The rules say, "If you are paid to knit or crochet, teach knitting or crochet, design knit or crochet garments, or sell yarn, you are defined as a professional." While I can't get into TNNA because I've never published a design, and in most cases I haven't earned enough money to pay for the gas I use driving to class, the truth is I have been paid to teach.

At the risk of sounding Clintonian, whether I'm a professional might depend on what your definitions of "are" are. On occasion, I have been paid to teach knitting, but this is an irregular thing; I do not think that I am paid to teach knitting.

What do you think? I accept that I'm an evil sock genius, but am I a professional evil sock genius?

Is this what I think it is?

A patent for knitted socks that fit? WTF?

I've become dissatisfied with my sock toes. A while back, Stephen mentioned anatomically-correct toes. I was searching for instructions, and ran across this.

Inappropriate

Last week, I got an email from the Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles telling me it's 90 days before my birthday and time to renew my tags. So I decided to take the plunge and buy a vanity plate. Which one of these possibilities did I pick? None of them. Instead, I went with TOE UP.

I'm aware that it makes no sense to the uninitiated.

Yesterday, I got an email marked "** High Priority **" telling me the request had been rejected because it was "inappropriate." I called to ask about it, and the customer services associate explained that they check a number of sources and the Urban Dictionary says that "toe up" is a variant of "torn up" or "tore up," as in wasted or high. I can see where that's a message they wouldn't want on license plates.

Still, I argued, if you Google "toe up," you get one hit (the highest) for the slang definition, and then pages of sock patterns.

They're going to consider it again, with the added note that it's about sock knitting. If it goes through, I'll just get the plates. If not, I'll get another rejection notice. I'm not really holding my breath.

Aging sucks

The day I bought new running shoes, Mike and I went for a short hike after lunch. Midway through, I noticed a blurry spot in my vision. A bit later, I noticed that it was crescent-shaped, acting like the afterimage you see when you look at a bright light. It was a very bright day, so I assumed I caught a reflection off a windshield or something. It faded, but it was back the next day. I kept seeing it off and on over the week, and went to my optometrist to get it checked out.

He noticed that my left eye (where I could sometimes see the crescent) was still 20/20 but was now weaker than my right eye, and told me I had vitreous separation, something that happens to everyone when they age. If there's a problem, it will show up within 6 weeks, and I should call if there are changes. He also mentioned that I might need reading glasses.

So I went merrily on, still worrying off and on about the new blurriness. I decided to check in with my g.p. He looked alarmed, suspected I had retinal detachment, and sent me immediately to the ophthalmologist. Several tense hours later, the ophthalmologist confirmed the original diagnosis -- I'm getting old; it's nothing to worry about.

Oh well. I look good in glasses. Time to go buy some.

While I was waiting, I noticed this in the exam room:

If you click through to a higher resolution, you can see it says "Place sharp in container opening then lift door until sharp drops." When did "sharp" become a noun? Why wasn't I informed of this?

Impotent rage

As I've said before, what good is a blog if you can't bitch impotently about minor inconveniences?

After years of credit union banking, I have finally decided to switch to a "real" bank, with actual local offices and convenient ATMs. I chose Chase.

Account creation was easy and convenient, and I was prepared to begin the full switch. I logged into my old account, requested a withdrawal in the amount of my last paycheck, and when the check arrived, I used the local ATM to deposit the money into my new account. My Visa Check Card was declined a few hours later at dinner, but I didn't think anything of it since the account was new and I didn't expect the deposit to be immediately available.

Then on Saturday, I got two (2!) letters from Chase telling me they were placing a hold on my deposit for seven (7!) business days. I'm understanding up to a point: it was a new account, created on-line, with a first deposit of any size made through an ATM. But seven business days?! The letters gave me a number to call, where I was told this was at the discretion of local branch managers. I've just gotten back from speaking to the local branch manager, who said it's an SEC regulation, and they won't budge. Oh, if I go to the credit union (office in another town) and get an image of the cleared check and present it to Chase, then they'll lift the hold. But meanwhile, there's nothing I can do. And it will be this way for six months.

So my entire paycheck sits with a lock on it until Monday, May 7. We all know Chase has my money; they get to play with it and squeeze what interest and investment they can out of it, while I have to make do without it. Make do, when I could be spending it this weekend at the Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival.

I guess this post can only end one way, with the immortal wisdom of Little Edie reminding us that, "This is the worst thing to happen ever in the history of America."