Joy, oh joy, we have two prop sales this week!
As I told my editor last night, I'm convinced it's possible to outfit a large house solely with prop sale finds. Some of the stuff is great, and the rummaging is just this side of insanity - if you don't move, or if you're not holding something large and spiky under your arm, you will get crushed.
Hyperbole aside, the only times I've seen crowds swarm the way the prop sale group does is back at college, when Master Schottenfeld gave us free food nights during finals. I remember a couple of times when there was no food left at the appointed starting hour, due to lack of crowd control. Thai take-out, fluffernutter sandwiches, art glass...it's all relative, really.
Yesterday was the first of the week's duo, and I made a few nice finds: a wall piece similar to one I'd seen at Bombay and couldn't afford, a candelabra, a great candelabra with a vase in the middle, and a set of eight ice cream glasses, which were free.
Then I, um, bought a tapestry. When they saw it, I got these "Dear God, what now?" looks from those who know how much I bought at the first sale. It's a nice piece, though, and it was only $25, so now all I need is mounting equipment.
And a wall to put it on.
And an apartment with a wall.
And a job to finance said apartment...
At least I know now what I need, and knowing is half the battle. Or something like that.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Busy week
The office is a ghost town.
Many of the editors (but none of the interns!) have taken spring break. Things are so depleted at the moment that for the last two days, our department has been down to four people, two of whom are interns. It's very quiet, but we've had a good chance to get work done, including, for me, all that goes into archiving an issue.
Last night, a group of us did Chinese food and watched Once, which is quite good for an indie. I downloaded a few of the songs today, though I doubt they'll do me much good on the track tomorrow morning. For that, there's the iPod club mix...
I do need to go to the gym tomorrow. Wednesday morning, I skipped due to the threat of severe weather, and this morning, I was too beat to drag myself out of bed at 5 AM. I did manage to get up at 6:30, when my dog tried to jump onto the bed, then headed down the street to check on my neighbors' cat.
I'm a dog person, mostly due to family allergies, but I have nothing against cats. They're cute, in a strange sort of way, and this one seemed not to hate me the last time I was over. She didn't bother to greet me when I came in - unlike my dog, whose favorite method of greeting is to jump all over the newcomer, then shove her nose toward her new friend's unmentionables and look up adoringly - so after checking food and water levels, I decided to make sure the cat was alright. "Mimi?" I called.
"Mrow."
I paused, trying to triangulate. "Mimi?"
"Mrow."
Thus began a groggy, albeit brief, game of feline Marco Polo. I found the poor thing eventually, having traced her meowing under a chair, and, ascertaining that she was just hiding and not nursing some massive trauma, left for the day. When I returned this evening, she seemed much more pleased to see me, probably because she heard me rummaging in her food bin. Good kitty.
Tomorrow, barring snow, my sister and her posse will descend upon us for a long weekend. If they arrive before midnight, they'll be lucky. If Sam Ruth knows what's good for him, he won't give me any shit while he's here. Just kidding, Sam.
But really.
Many of the editors (but none of the interns!) have taken spring break. Things are so depleted at the moment that for the last two days, our department has been down to four people, two of whom are interns. It's very quiet, but we've had a good chance to get work done, including, for me, all that goes into archiving an issue.
Last night, a group of us did Chinese food and watched Once, which is quite good for an indie. I downloaded a few of the songs today, though I doubt they'll do me much good on the track tomorrow morning. For that, there's the iPod club mix...
I do need to go to the gym tomorrow. Wednesday morning, I skipped due to the threat of severe weather, and this morning, I was too beat to drag myself out of bed at 5 AM. I did manage to get up at 6:30, when my dog tried to jump onto the bed, then headed down the street to check on my neighbors' cat.
I'm a dog person, mostly due to family allergies, but I have nothing against cats. They're cute, in a strange sort of way, and this one seemed not to hate me the last time I was over. She didn't bother to greet me when I came in - unlike my dog, whose favorite method of greeting is to jump all over the newcomer, then shove her nose toward her new friend's unmentionables and look up adoringly - so after checking food and water levels, I decided to make sure the cat was alright. "Mimi?" I called.
"Mrow."
I paused, trying to triangulate. "Mimi?"
"Mrow."
Thus began a groggy, albeit brief, game of feline Marco Polo. I found the poor thing eventually, having traced her meowing under a chair, and, ascertaining that she was just hiding and not nursing some massive trauma, left for the day. When I returned this evening, she seemed much more pleased to see me, probably because she heard me rummaging in her food bin. Good kitty.
Tomorrow, barring snow, my sister and her posse will descend upon us for a long weekend. If they arrive before midnight, they'll be lucky. If Sam Ruth knows what's good for him, he won't give me any shit while he's here. Just kidding, Sam.
But really.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Road trip, part the last
Atlanta. Traffic. Sucks.
That's really all there is to say for it. That, and I'm grateful for two things on Friday. First, I had my wonderful GPS, which guided me through the maze of streets in the city. Secondly, I got out of there long before the tornado hit downtown.
I've been rather tired since I got home, but the trip was successful. The party last night was pretty sweet, too.
That's really all there is to say for it. That, and I'm grateful for two things on Friday. First, I had my wonderful GPS, which guided me through the maze of streets in the city. Secondly, I got out of there long before the tornado hit downtown.
I've been rather tired since I got home, but the trip was successful. The party last night was pretty sweet, too.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Road trip, day the second
I woke this morning, seemingly healed from my close encounter with the Waffle House, and hit the treadmill for a brief workout (briefer than I would have liked, as the room had no air conditioning) before heading back to Georgia. The drive was pleasant, the GPS fairly reliable, and I had no problems until I got off I-75 and started heading to Colbert.
I've noticed that there is an inverse correlation between the urbanization level of a place and the number of auto shops and Baptist churches it holds. When you start seeing an overwhelming number of nondenominational churches, or churches housed in manufactured homes, you know you're getting out into the sticks. This relationship does break down, however; past a certain critical limit of salvage parts and sad-looking places of worship, everything disappears and you're left with only God's country, which in northwest Georgia means rolling hills of green that go on forever, crossed by oddly-named roads of dubious condition and pedigree. These are single-track roads masquerading as two-lane, their surfaces patched and pitted, and the trees grow overhead in a sort of half canopy as you pass through. It's almost claustrophobic in there, especially when you're not entirely certain where you're going, and once I stopped thinking of banjos, I recalled Stephen King's Lovecraftian story, "Crouch End," and hoped I wouldn't see signs for R'lyeh or some such around the next bend ("Beware the goat with a thousand young!" etc.)
Towns exist around Colbert, but most are wide patches that have grown up along the railroad tracks. To get there, I drove through Royston, the birthplace of Ty Cobb, and that was a booming metropolis compared to my destination. Again, thank God for the GPS, as there is no doubt in my mind that I would never have found the place if I hadn't been guided. Once I did stumble upon it, I realized two things: I had two hours to kill, and I wasn't going to find food in Colbert. Deciding a field trip was in order, I set my course for Athens and headed off in search of lunch.
Athens is a college town of the first order - it puts New Haven to shame - and to find the strip of restaurants and shops, I did what anyone would do: I programmed my GPS to find the nearest Starbucks to campus, then drove smack into the downtown area. I had lunch at Picante's, a decent Mexican place, then walked around, looking at shops and sweating in my dress clothes, as Athens was at least 70 degrees this afternoon. What was fun was explaining the nature and production of druzies to the girl behind the desk at the bead shop, who probably should have known, seeing she was trying to sell a gorgeous druzy and citrine necklace. A steal at $450, right?
Having eaten and strolled, and killed as much time as I could, I got back in the car and headed off to my interview, then set a course for Atlanta and my Holiday Inn, which is located in what appears to be a combination of Little Korea and Little Mexico. Fortunately, there's a restaurant on site, and the salmon was decent, even if the waitress hadn't the faintest idea how to operate the register. No matter; I've had a decent meal and I'm not sick to my stomach, which is all one can ask for, really.
Finally, a few interesting sights of the day:
1) Rhett Butler apparently sells real estate around Athens. Either someone's getting tacky with the agency's name, or someone's mom really loved Gone With the Wind.
2) A billboard for Bond, James Bond bail bonds. Yes, that's actually the name of the company.
3) This one was from yesterday, but I finally remembered to look it up tonight: there's a stretch of I-85 in Jackson County, Georgia named in honor of Lauren "Bubba" McDonald. Speaking as a Lauren...man, what did you do to your parents to make them hate you?
I've noticed that there is an inverse correlation between the urbanization level of a place and the number of auto shops and Baptist churches it holds. When you start seeing an overwhelming number of nondenominational churches, or churches housed in manufactured homes, you know you're getting out into the sticks. This relationship does break down, however; past a certain critical limit of salvage parts and sad-looking places of worship, everything disappears and you're left with only God's country, which in northwest Georgia means rolling hills of green that go on forever, crossed by oddly-named roads of dubious condition and pedigree. These are single-track roads masquerading as two-lane, their surfaces patched and pitted, and the trees grow overhead in a sort of half canopy as you pass through. It's almost claustrophobic in there, especially when you're not entirely certain where you're going, and once I stopped thinking of banjos, I recalled Stephen King's Lovecraftian story, "Crouch End," and hoped I wouldn't see signs for R'lyeh or some such around the next bend ("Beware the goat with a thousand young!" etc.)
Towns exist around Colbert, but most are wide patches that have grown up along the railroad tracks. To get there, I drove through Royston, the birthplace of Ty Cobb, and that was a booming metropolis compared to my destination. Again, thank God for the GPS, as there is no doubt in my mind that I would never have found the place if I hadn't been guided. Once I did stumble upon it, I realized two things: I had two hours to kill, and I wasn't going to find food in Colbert. Deciding a field trip was in order, I set my course for Athens and headed off in search of lunch.
Athens is a college town of the first order - it puts New Haven to shame - and to find the strip of restaurants and shops, I did what anyone would do: I programmed my GPS to find the nearest Starbucks to campus, then drove smack into the downtown area. I had lunch at Picante's, a decent Mexican place, then walked around, looking at shops and sweating in my dress clothes, as Athens was at least 70 degrees this afternoon. What was fun was explaining the nature and production of druzies to the girl behind the desk at the bead shop, who probably should have known, seeing she was trying to sell a gorgeous druzy and citrine necklace. A steal at $450, right?
Having eaten and strolled, and killed as much time as I could, I got back in the car and headed off to my interview, then set a course for Atlanta and my Holiday Inn, which is located in what appears to be a combination of Little Korea and Little Mexico. Fortunately, there's a restaurant on site, and the salmon was decent, even if the waitress hadn't the faintest idea how to operate the register. No matter; I've had a decent meal and I'm not sick to my stomach, which is all one can ask for, really.
Finally, a few interesting sights of the day:
1) Rhett Butler apparently sells real estate around Athens. Either someone's getting tacky with the agency's name, or someone's mom really loved Gone With the Wind.
2) A billboard for Bond, James Bond bail bonds. Yes, that's actually the name of the company.
3) This one was from yesterday, but I finally remembered to look it up tonight: there's a stretch of I-85 in Jackson County, Georgia named in honor of Lauren "Bubba" McDonald. Speaking as a Lauren...man, what did you do to your parents to make them hate you?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Road trip, day the first
If anyone from my writing workshop read that title and groaned inwardly, I swear, this has nothing to do with my dissertation novel, Rock City, or Layla and Wally. Really. Promise.
Currently, I'm sitting in my surprisingly well-appointed room at the Holiday Inn outside Anderson, SC. The bed is huge, the couch seems passable, and the Wi-Fi is free, so I can't complain. My only problem is the lack of local dining options - we're limited to McDonald's or Waffle House, and I'm having Scholars' Bowl flashbacks as I type. I could, of course, drive on down the road until I reached civilization and/or a real restaurant, but I've been driving all day and I'm really not feeling the whole I-85 thing right now. Besides, I have gourmet cake waiting, but more on that in a minute.
I left home at 7 AM in my spiffy, albeit cruise control-less, rental car, headed for parts unknown with only my Google directions and Hertz GPS to guide me. Once past Atlanta (and boy, that's a hurdle - I don't know how anyone learns to drive in that city, because if I had tried to learn in Atlanta, I would have ended up a whimpering mass on the side of the road), I had smooth sailing until I reached Anderson. Having allotted entirely too much time to driving, as usual, I found myself with nearly two hours to kill, so I parked and took a much-welcome stroll.
In many ways, downtown Anderson reminds me of Vicksburg, minus the casino boat. The storefronts are renovated 19th-century designs, and the downtown strip has plenty of pedestrian traffic and ample parking. I ate at a nice deli, then found a great little shop that sells beads and semi-precious necklaces, and bought myself a string of rough-hewn turquoise nuggets (it was either that or the lapis disks, and I went cheap at $50). Then I found a Thunderbird Motel and laughed - let's talk retro.
My interview went well, and concluded with a takeaway box of cake, which I am eagerly anticipating post-Waffle House and possibly pre-gym (we shall see whether the gym comes tonight or first thing tomorrow). I had called Brandon earlier to ask where her mother's store was located, and, thinking I had enough information, plugged what I had into my GPS and set off for Greenville.
Don't get me wrong, the GPS is fabulous. I would never have found Greenville without it, and I'm not sure what we did before these car systems came along. Nevertheless, half an hour later, I realized I was definitely on the wrong Main Street, and so I called Brandon back and got the address. I'm glad I did - her mother was as sweet as could be and gave me guides - and after I left the shop, I strolled through Greenville's shopping district until I found Falls Park. Must be nice to have a waterfall downtown; being from Birmingham, the great landlocked metropolis of the southeast, I wouldn't know. Birmingham needs to learn from Greenville - I'd definitely go back.
And now, slightly road weary but none the worse for my adventures, I'm off to find dinner. This may just turn into an early night after all.
-------
Post-dinner post script: Waffle House is as godawful as I remember. That has to be the greasiest omelet and hashbrowns I've ever had. Cake it is.
Currently, I'm sitting in my surprisingly well-appointed room at the Holiday Inn outside Anderson, SC. The bed is huge, the couch seems passable, and the Wi-Fi is free, so I can't complain. My only problem is the lack of local dining options - we're limited to McDonald's or Waffle House, and I'm having Scholars' Bowl flashbacks as I type. I could, of course, drive on down the road until I reached civilization and/or a real restaurant, but I've been driving all day and I'm really not feeling the whole I-85 thing right now. Besides, I have gourmet cake waiting, but more on that in a minute.
I left home at 7 AM in my spiffy, albeit cruise control-less, rental car, headed for parts unknown with only my Google directions and Hertz GPS to guide me. Once past Atlanta (and boy, that's a hurdle - I don't know how anyone learns to drive in that city, because if I had tried to learn in Atlanta, I would have ended up a whimpering mass on the side of the road), I had smooth sailing until I reached Anderson. Having allotted entirely too much time to driving, as usual, I found myself with nearly two hours to kill, so I parked and took a much-welcome stroll.
In many ways, downtown Anderson reminds me of Vicksburg, minus the casino boat. The storefronts are renovated 19th-century designs, and the downtown strip has plenty of pedestrian traffic and ample parking. I ate at a nice deli, then found a great little shop that sells beads and semi-precious necklaces, and bought myself a string of rough-hewn turquoise nuggets (it was either that or the lapis disks, and I went cheap at $50). Then I found a Thunderbird Motel and laughed - let's talk retro.
My interview went well, and concluded with a takeaway box of cake, which I am eagerly anticipating post-Waffle House and possibly pre-gym (we shall see whether the gym comes tonight or first thing tomorrow). I had called Brandon earlier to ask where her mother's store was located, and, thinking I had enough information, plugged what I had into my GPS and set off for Greenville.
Don't get me wrong, the GPS is fabulous. I would never have found Greenville without it, and I'm not sure what we did before these car systems came along. Nevertheless, half an hour later, I realized I was definitely on the wrong Main Street, and so I called Brandon back and got the address. I'm glad I did - her mother was as sweet as could be and gave me guides - and after I left the shop, I strolled through Greenville's shopping district until I found Falls Park. Must be nice to have a waterfall downtown; being from Birmingham, the great landlocked metropolis of the southeast, I wouldn't know. Birmingham needs to learn from Greenville - I'd definitely go back.
And now, slightly road weary but none the worse for my adventures, I'm off to find dinner. This may just turn into an early night after all.
-------
Post-dinner post script: Waffle House is as godawful as I remember. That has to be the greasiest omelet and hashbrowns I've ever had. Cake it is.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
On the road again
After nearly a four-month stint in one place, I'm off on a road trip bright and early tomorrow morning. It'll be me, a selection of mix CDs, and my rental car - which, I should add, has a built-in GPS system but lacks cruise control - against the open road, all the way to South Carolina, but I'm hoping to come home with some good information. One of the other interns is also traveling this week, but in North Carolina. Sounds like someone's getting a phone call tomorrow...
The rental's built-in GPS means I won't have to rely on my new TomTom, which is sad, as I had programmed my unit to give me directions in the voice of Yoda. "In 50 yards, right you must turn" might get a little old after a while, but it would make me laugh. We'll see if I can't pull my faithful Jedi TomTom out at some point this week.
In other vehicular news, my Beetle is being repainted in the morning so it will no longer look like this:
The rental's built-in GPS means I won't have to rely on my new TomTom, which is sad, as I had programmed my unit to give me directions in the voice of Yoda. "In 50 yards, right you must turn" might get a little old after a while, but it would make me laugh. We'll see if I can't pull my faithful Jedi TomTom out at some point this week.
In other vehicular news, my Beetle is being repainted in the morning so it will no longer look like this:
Lovely, isn't it? I'm so good, I scare myself. The car was going to feature in a photo shoot today, even with its scrapes, but alas, the weather refused to cooperate and the shoot was moved, meaning they'll need another car. Too bad for me.
Finally, a moment of "Dear God, why does everyone think I have an accent?!?" randomness: while standing in line at Panera, waiting for my lunch, the lady next to me commented on my necklace and asked where I'd bought it. I told her it was from a Fair Trade store in Edinburgh.
"Is that where you're from?" she asked.
No, I explained, I just went to school there.
She seemed confused at this and asked where I lived. Eventually, we established that I'm a native, to which she gave me the old "You have a bit of an accent" line.
Yes ma'am, I know. I know.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Not the best day of my life
I had plenty on my mind Friday afternoon when I got ready to leave work. There was the traffic to consider. My upcoming trip. The movie that night. The possible rain.
The one thing that seemed to have left my mind was any sense of three-dimensional geometry. I got into the car, put it in reverse, and mentally did a slow-motion "NOOOOO!!!" a few seconds later when I cut the turn too sharply and scraped into the cement support pole.
I got out of the car and checked the damage. Not pretty. "It's okay," I thought, trying to calm myself down. "I'll just go to Royal and get them to buff it out."
Half an hour later, the idiot girl behind the desk at Royal's body shop gave me the bad news: $627 to repaint the car. "It's not that bad," she drawled.
"What do you mean, it's not that bad?" I exclaimed, resisting the urge to throttle her or say words of which my mother would not approve. "It's bad when you're on a minimum-wage budget!"
"Uh...yeah, I guess."
The man helping her suggested I take Pledge to the car and get the worst of the white marks out. Consequently, when my father pulled into the driveway, I was bending over the car with paper towels and the can of furniture polish, rubbing as well as I could and trying to avoid getting anything on my work clothes. Before then, however, I'd run by Estes, the place where we get our tires, and asked for a recommendation of anyone who could fix my car for under Royal's price. The owner gave me the name and number of his son-in-law, and I left him a message.
Saturday morning, I had resigned myself to forking over the exorbitant fee when the son-in-law called back. I drove out to his place in Pelham, which is so new that the main phone line doesn't work yet. I wasn't sure exactly what I would find, but he launched into his credentials almost immediately.
"When you said 'green Beetle,' I knew exactly what you were talking about," he began, examining the scratches. "Green and red are the two worst colors. Green gets milky, and red fades to pink. You don't notice it, but if you try to repaint it, it's obvious."
"It took Royal three times to get the paint right when they fixed the car after my sister's wreck," I told him.
He nodded, then reassured me he had done Volkswagons, even annoyingly painted ones, before. "I have a formula."
The turnaround was 24 hours. "And the price?" I asked, biting my lip.
He studied the car a moment longer. "$300?"
I could have hugged him. Instead, I took his card and said I'd call him. If all goes according to plan, the car will go in Tuesday night and be back when I return from my trip. Happy day!
The one thing that seemed to have left my mind was any sense of three-dimensional geometry. I got into the car, put it in reverse, and mentally did a slow-motion "NOOOOO!!!" a few seconds later when I cut the turn too sharply and scraped into the cement support pole.
I got out of the car and checked the damage. Not pretty. "It's okay," I thought, trying to calm myself down. "I'll just go to Royal and get them to buff it out."
Half an hour later, the idiot girl behind the desk at Royal's body shop gave me the bad news: $627 to repaint the car. "It's not that bad," she drawled.
"What do you mean, it's not that bad?" I exclaimed, resisting the urge to throttle her or say words of which my mother would not approve. "It's bad when you're on a minimum-wage budget!"
"Uh...yeah, I guess."
The man helping her suggested I take Pledge to the car and get the worst of the white marks out. Consequently, when my father pulled into the driveway, I was bending over the car with paper towels and the can of furniture polish, rubbing as well as I could and trying to avoid getting anything on my work clothes. Before then, however, I'd run by Estes, the place where we get our tires, and asked for a recommendation of anyone who could fix my car for under Royal's price. The owner gave me the name and number of his son-in-law, and I left him a message.
Saturday morning, I had resigned myself to forking over the exorbitant fee when the son-in-law called back. I drove out to his place in Pelham, which is so new that the main phone line doesn't work yet. I wasn't sure exactly what I would find, but he launched into his credentials almost immediately.
"When you said 'green Beetle,' I knew exactly what you were talking about," he began, examining the scratches. "Green and red are the two worst colors. Green gets milky, and red fades to pink. You don't notice it, but if you try to repaint it, it's obvious."
"It took Royal three times to get the paint right when they fixed the car after my sister's wreck," I told him.
He nodded, then reassured me he had done Volkswagons, even annoyingly painted ones, before. "I have a formula."
The turnaround was 24 hours. "And the price?" I asked, biting my lip.
He studied the car a moment longer. "$300?"
I could have hugged him. Instead, I took his card and said I'd call him. If all goes according to plan, the car will go in Tuesday night and be back when I return from my trip. Happy day!
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Being spontaneous
I love moments of random spontaneity.
The following conversation (roughly) transpired at lunch yesterday, after someone got a few of us jonesing for Fun Dip by pulling a candy stick from her purse:
"Are there any candy stores in town?"
"Yeah, SoHo Sweets. It's sort of new."
"Where's that?"
"Homewood. SoHo. You know, by Zoe's."
"No."
"Do they have various kinds of gummy things?"
"I...think so? Maybe?"
"What about old candy? Necco Wafers?"
"I don't know." (Pauses, considers the half-hour left in the lunch break.)"You guys want to go now?"
What followed was a mass exodus in search of candy. Most of the party settled for gelato. Even considering that I only had the small size of the Peanut Butter Cup flavor, I was grateful for step class this morning.
The following conversation (roughly) transpired at lunch yesterday, after someone got a few of us jonesing for Fun Dip by pulling a candy stick from her purse:
"Are there any candy stores in town?"
"Yeah, SoHo Sweets. It's sort of new."
"Where's that?"
"Homewood. SoHo. You know, by Zoe's."
"No."
"Do they have various kinds of gummy things?"
"I...think so? Maybe?"
"What about old candy? Necco Wafers?"
"I don't know." (Pauses, considers the half-hour left in the lunch break.)
What followed was a mass exodus in search of candy. Most of the party settled for gelato. Even considering that I only had the small size of the Peanut Butter Cup flavor, I was grateful for step class this morning.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Random fun
I've found a new way to waste time...
Futoshiki.
It's a logic puzzle in the same vein as Sudoku. Unfortunately, if you forget what it's called and try to find it by entering random parts of the word, you come up with some fairly obscene hits.
The main difference between Futoshiki and Sudoku is the addition of greater than/less than rules. Take this one, for example:
Fit the numbers 1-5 into the grid in such a way that no number is repeated in any row or column and the rules are followed. The box between the 5 and 4 could logically be either 2 or 3, but not 1. Simple enough, right?
Futoshiki.
It's a logic puzzle in the same vein as Sudoku. Unfortunately, if you forget what it's called and try to find it by entering random parts of the word, you come up with some fairly obscene hits.
The main difference between Futoshiki and Sudoku is the addition of greater than/less than rules. Take this one, for example:
Fit the numbers 1-5 into the grid in such a way that no number is repeated in any row or column and the rules are followed. The box between the 5 and 4 could logically be either 2 or 3, but not 1. Simple enough, right? Keeps me off the streets, at least...
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