Stagnant Career, Augury, German Visitor, Knick-Knacks, Weird Confectionery

Another week finally gave up and yielded to the weekend. Work has been particularly boring lately, and I did not succeed in my latest attempt at career development. The bad news is that I didn't get the supervisor position I interviewed for. The good news is that I won't have to be a supervisor. I haven't yet decided what it all means, if anything. I still haven't spotted the sign that tells me how to obtain exciting, lucrative work (tea leaves, cloud formations and NPR programs have all failed to show me the way). Perhaps I should stare into those new glass sphere cabinet pulls we have in the kitchen.

Much more happily and importantly, Ellen came down for a visit before she returns to Germany. She and Bryan cooked us a very fine dinner Friday, and we all watched A Christmas Story. I'm amazed how the weekend flew by. I never got around to cooking for her (Lindz's dad was visiting, though, and he treated us to takeout Chinese), and I didn't follow through with my announced plans to bake stollen. Takeout Chinese and A Christmas Story are two very American things, so I hope it was culturally valuable for her. She made raisin bread for Lindz and me, though. It's delicious. We inhaled a good portion of the loaf this morning:
The time flew by too quickly. She and Bryan spent most of it hanging out together, as it should be.

On to a completely different and more trivial subject. I typically don't seek out things that don't perform a necessary function for the house (i.e., knick-knacks, bric-a-brac, tchotchke or whimsical accents for the home) but I couldn't resist this item. It's appropriate, given my decades-long love of pipe organs and organ music. Pictured below is note F from a rank of Stopped Diapason pipes. I got it from an antiques dealer in Pennsylvania, and I mounted it above the kitchen doorway. The shelf is a drawer front I reclaimed from the old cabinetry.
At least it used to do something, unlike the 148 tons of plastic flowers, ceramic rabbits, artificial fruit and baskets of dried weeds that adorn every available inch of space in my mother's house. It's the same house I grew up in; perhaps I still have lingering symptoms of a childhood surrounded by crap I wasn't allowed to touch, in rooms I wasn't supposed to go into. Half of the ground floor of the house was effectively off limits because footprints on the carpet were unacceptable. Mom has been the sole occupant of the house for some years, so her bric-a-brac addiction has progressed unchecked. I don't know when an intervention will be necessary, maybe when doorways are blocked by decorative concrete geese. Anyway, this is one of my few conspicuously useless knick-knacks.

And how about this? Yes, it's true. Chocolate and bacon, together at last.

It's good. Sweet and slightly salty with a bit of smoke. What's not to like, I ask you?