Left of the Dial

why couldn't I be laundering money?

There are so many people living in our house that just now I started laundry—all pinks and reds, as I pretty much always have so much to wash that I can very strictly separate out by colors—and thought, huh, small load today…because it "only" contained 7 shirts, in addition to a half dozen pairs of socks and about as many underwears, as well as a hand towel, two washcloths, three cleaning cloths and a kitchen towel. 

It's possible my perspective is ever so slightly skewed.  

the cat with the hat

“When you’re making a fedora out of paper, it might seem like one of the creases you’re making is useless. Like, you’d never use that crease. But then you get to a point where suddenly, that crease is so important.”

search me

 

So I've been on LinkedIn since 2006, when a former boss insisted I join. Later, one of my not-at-all social media-interested brothers referred to it as "Facebook for grownups," a phrase which almost made me defend Facebook, despite largely hating Facebook. (Unless someone else criticizes Facebook, in which case the contrarian in me has no choice but to point out its legitimate benefits, helping to rig elections aside.)

But I don't pay a lot of attention to LinkedIn, other than when once in a while someone who's not on one of the other social media sites sends me a message on there. (Hey, Riz!) Still, I get the notifications, which is how this caught my attention: 

 

Weekly search stats

7: number of times your profile appeared in search results between May 29 - June 5

Where your searchers work

• 

Well...hello there. I can't imagine what messed up algorithm sent you my way, nor what use I could possibly be, in a professional or personal capacity, but I'd be more than happy to continue this conversation and...

**

Keywords your searchers used

• Keywords in search

  Lion + Attack! + Bear + VS + Video

• Keywords in search

  Lion + Bear + VS + Video

**

wha

(...okay, actually, maybe we would be a good match.)

It's Friday

I'm in love. 

(She'd just been taking a picture of that amazing tree—since she hadn't photographed anything blooming in nearly two and a half minutes—and caught me taking a photo of her taking a photo. You can see how irate she immediately was.) 

(I am the world's worst damn photographer. But when she's the subject, even I can take a good one once in a while. Or a series of good ones.) 

I have no idea why she's still with me. But I'm approaching the point where I also don't care why. I'm just so glad she is. 

a perfect fit

So Top Management and I are driving through downtown Portland, getting acquainted with our new home, when she points at a store sign. "Clogs-N-More," she snorts. "Oh, Portland..." 

Then we get a little closer and she sees the name of the brands they carry. "Ooh! Dansko!" she yells, practically bouncing out of her seat.

My silence is apparently pointed and deafening, because she says, "Okay, shut up. So maybe we're a good match. So what?"