For all you Boeing types, I'm not talking about those 5's: Sweep, Sort, blah blah - whatever they were in Boeing's attempt to organize their minuns.
My carpool partner was telling me today about her mom's 5S's for men. And I found it amusing considering yesterday's post.
Sober
Single
Salaried
STD free
Oh crap, what was the 5th?
oh yes, straight.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Thursday, April 27, 2006
The Perfect Partner
I was reading another blog (Freak Magnet - Feb 3, 2006 entry) and came across a post in which she describes her perfect partner. As I read her blog, I realized, I don't think I have a list. Or do I?
As I thought about the perfect partner, I do have a list. I never really wanted to have a list because I thought that was limiting myself. I have learned, ever so painfully, from past relationships that having at least some idea of what you want sure helps in the search for "la otra media de naranja". (The mexican's call it finding the other half of your orange). And because of said Pain I, at least now know what I don't want...which is even more helpful. With previous Pain - er ah - relationship - I found myself more than willing to compromise on what I would call today "deal breakers." That is a frightening notion to me.
What would me top characteristics be? And so, in no particular order, my "Not so perfect partner" list.
Humor - absolutely required. He doesn't have to be a comic, but to have comedic tendencies is a must. Not only should he be able to make me laugh, but he should be able to laugh at himself. We all do goofy, dumbass things, (only some of us actually write about them - as witness to several of my posts) so being able to laugh them off is a sign of maturity. Or insanity? Its such a grey area between the two. And of course with humor comes sarcasm. He must get sarcasm. Its one of my defining qualities. Former Pain never got my sarcasm.
Teach me a thing or two - I'd definitely like him to be smart. He doesn't have to be brilliant especially if the "brilliance" causes him to be a condescending ass. No thanks, I'll pass. But smart in that he can actually teach me something. I like to learn new things. Especially if its something that's never crossed my path. I may not like it, but I'm open to learning about it...so teach me, tell me, let me learn.
Communication - If there's one thing I've learned in all my 37 years it's that communication is key in any relationship. Without it, you're destined to a life of wondering where you stand. I hate not knowing where I stand with people. It sends me into a tail spin in the game of "what if's". Being able to communicate effectively is a skill. Of course I'm not talking communication in just the form of being able to express one's self...but half of communication is listening. (a skill I need to work on - hey maybe he can teach me)
He has to be okay with my family. Have I mentioned I'm from an enormous family? Yah, I may not like them all, all of the time. And they may not be perfect. In fact, we are far from it. A bit nutty at times. We can put the "fun" in dysfunctional most the time. But who's family is normal? If you claim yours is, you're in denial.
Be an adventurous eater - He has to like to eat and be adventurous about food. I'm a cook. I love cooking. I love to try new foods. He can't be a bore when it comes to food. Life's too short to only eat one bland, boring thing.
Know thy self - He needs to be his own person and allow me to be mine. Self awareness and soul searching shows you respect yourself enough to discover you. I'd like him to be able to find new things in him that he never knew existed. And to be okay with not knowing what his every move/step in life is going to be. Life is messy, and sometimes what we thought we'd be or want isn't at all what actually happens.
Acceptable of faults - god knows I have a few (No comments from the peanut gallery). But he should be aware that I'm not perfect and certainly don't expect perfection from him (I've got Jack for that - see last paragraph). Despite me constantly thinking I'm perfect, the truth is I ain't. And that's okay with me. And god I hope he's not perfect...that's way too much pressure.
Have an open mind - I'd say he'd have to be a democrat, but I'd only be saying that to piss of my republican parental units. (Kisses mom) I really don't think one's political belief is a reason to date or not to date him. I'm fairly open minded and sure as heck fire hope he's open minded enough to realize every person has the right to an opinion. I may not agree with it, but I respect the fact that they have one. Same reasoning holds true with regards to personal beliefs about religion and abortion. I've got my opinion. You aren't likely going to change it, you must be okay with it if its different from yours.
Must like dogs - Not in the sense of actually liking dogs (or cats - though if Pookie's still around he really needs to like Pookie - getting rid of the cat may be a deal breaker). But rather in the sense of what liking dogs means. It means they are kind hearted and good natured.
In college, I forget with whom I did this - but I'm sure we were drunk - we created our " perfect boyfriend." This boyfriend wasn't real mind you. But he was real enough. Enter Jack. Jack (the name of my made up love interest) has been with me for years. In fact, I frequently joke with those close to me whom I know won't give me the "she's lost it" look that I've got a date with Jack. Which really just means I'm spending some quality time alone.
But Jack, Jack is great. He's everything I've always wanted. We fight sometimes, but I always win. He treats me with respect and has taught me to respect myself. He's an EMT - I do find it mildly amusing that I gave Jack an actual profession. Wouldn't I die someday if I actually met a guy named Jack who was an EMT? I'd probably force him to marry me right then and there.
But Jack, he loves his mother.
He likes cats, but prefers dogs.
He's quick with a joke and a smile.
He can iron. (Also can't remember why I gave him this trait, but I'm sure it'll prove useful someday)
He isn't stuffy.
He's not afraid to cry or be emotionally available.
He's spiritual without having to be religious.
He's sensual without realizing he's that way.
He dresses well, and most importantly knows how to dress appropriately for any occasion.
He's sexy to me (which means he doesn't really have a look to him. Like I don't expect him to be gorgeous...but he has to be cute to me and only me).
He's courteous and generous.
Jack, well he's every man I've ever known. At least the good qualities of every man I've ever known. Did I mention that Jack wasn't perfect? Yah, he's a goof ball who's made as many mistakes as the next person. But he's rebounded and come out the other side a better man.
So for all you prospective single men out there, the crush included - even though I think I'm over him - don't let this list scare you away. And Don't be jealous of Jack. If you think you're up for the challenge though...I'm game.
As I thought about the perfect partner, I do have a list. I never really wanted to have a list because I thought that was limiting myself. I have learned, ever so painfully, from past relationships that having at least some idea of what you want sure helps in the search for "la otra media de naranja". (The mexican's call it finding the other half of your orange). And because of said Pain I, at least now know what I don't want...which is even more helpful. With previous Pain - er ah - relationship - I found myself more than willing to compromise on what I would call today "deal breakers." That is a frightening notion to me.
What would me top characteristics be? And so, in no particular order, my "Not so perfect partner" list.
Humor - absolutely required. He doesn't have to be a comic, but to have comedic tendencies is a must. Not only should he be able to make me laugh, but he should be able to laugh at himself. We all do goofy, dumbass things, (only some of us actually write about them - as witness to several of my posts) so being able to laugh them off is a sign of maturity. Or insanity? Its such a grey area between the two. And of course with humor comes sarcasm. He must get sarcasm. Its one of my defining qualities. Former Pain never got my sarcasm.
Teach me a thing or two - I'd definitely like him to be smart. He doesn't have to be brilliant especially if the "brilliance" causes him to be a condescending ass. No thanks, I'll pass. But smart in that he can actually teach me something. I like to learn new things. Especially if its something that's never crossed my path. I may not like it, but I'm open to learning about it...so teach me, tell me, let me learn.
Communication - If there's one thing I've learned in all my 37 years it's that communication is key in any relationship. Without it, you're destined to a life of wondering where you stand. I hate not knowing where I stand with people. It sends me into a tail spin in the game of "what if's". Being able to communicate effectively is a skill. Of course I'm not talking communication in just the form of being able to express one's self...but half of communication is listening. (a skill I need to work on - hey maybe he can teach me)
He has to be okay with my family. Have I mentioned I'm from an enormous family? Yah, I may not like them all, all of the time. And they may not be perfect. In fact, we are far from it. A bit nutty at times. We can put the "fun" in dysfunctional most the time. But who's family is normal? If you claim yours is, you're in denial.
Be an adventurous eater - He has to like to eat and be adventurous about food. I'm a cook. I love cooking. I love to try new foods. He can't be a bore when it comes to food. Life's too short to only eat one bland, boring thing.
Know thy self - He needs to be his own person and allow me to be mine. Self awareness and soul searching shows you respect yourself enough to discover you. I'd like him to be able to find new things in him that he never knew existed. And to be okay with not knowing what his every move/step in life is going to be. Life is messy, and sometimes what we thought we'd be or want isn't at all what actually happens.
Acceptable of faults - god knows I have a few (No comments from the peanut gallery). But he should be aware that I'm not perfect and certainly don't expect perfection from him (I've got Jack for that - see last paragraph). Despite me constantly thinking I'm perfect, the truth is I ain't. And that's okay with me. And god I hope he's not perfect...that's way too much pressure.
Have an open mind - I'd say he'd have to be a democrat, but I'd only be saying that to piss of my republican parental units. (Kisses mom) I really don't think one's political belief is a reason to date or not to date him. I'm fairly open minded and sure as heck fire hope he's open minded enough to realize every person has the right to an opinion. I may not agree with it, but I respect the fact that they have one. Same reasoning holds true with regards to personal beliefs about religion and abortion. I've got my opinion. You aren't likely going to change it, you must be okay with it if its different from yours.
Must like dogs - Not in the sense of actually liking dogs (or cats - though if Pookie's still around he really needs to like Pookie - getting rid of the cat may be a deal breaker). But rather in the sense of what liking dogs means. It means they are kind hearted and good natured.
In college, I forget with whom I did this - but I'm sure we were drunk - we created our " perfect boyfriend." This boyfriend wasn't real mind you. But he was real enough. Enter Jack. Jack (the name of my made up love interest) has been with me for years. In fact, I frequently joke with those close to me whom I know won't give me the "she's lost it" look that I've got a date with Jack. Which really just means I'm spending some quality time alone.
But Jack, Jack is great. He's everything I've always wanted. We fight sometimes, but I always win. He treats me with respect and has taught me to respect myself. He's an EMT - I do find it mildly amusing that I gave Jack an actual profession. Wouldn't I die someday if I actually met a guy named Jack who was an EMT? I'd probably force him to marry me right then and there.
But Jack, he loves his mother.
He likes cats, but prefers dogs.
He's quick with a joke and a smile.
He can iron. (Also can't remember why I gave him this trait, but I'm sure it'll prove useful someday)
He isn't stuffy.
He's not afraid to cry or be emotionally available.
He's spiritual without having to be religious.
He's sensual without realizing he's that way.
He dresses well, and most importantly knows how to dress appropriately for any occasion.
He's sexy to me (which means he doesn't really have a look to him. Like I don't expect him to be gorgeous...but he has to be cute to me and only me).
He's courteous and generous.
Jack, well he's every man I've ever known. At least the good qualities of every man I've ever known. Did I mention that Jack wasn't perfect? Yah, he's a goof ball who's made as many mistakes as the next person. But he's rebounded and come out the other side a better man.
So for all you prospective single men out there, the crush included - even though I think I'm over him - don't let this list scare you away. And Don't be jealous of Jack. If you think you're up for the challenge though...I'm game.
And the day came...when I cried
I finished watching the 5 seasons of Six Feet Under last night. Who among all my "so called" friends decided it would be good to NOT tell me? Huh? I wanna know. Which one of you?
If you've not watched Six Feet Under and plan to...STOP READING.
I sat on my couch last night and gushed water. Mountains of kleenex littered my sofa. I sobbed like I haven't sobbed in a long time. You know the uncontrollable sobs where you almost hyperventilate. No one told me that Nate dies. WTF? No one! I cried and cried and cried. I did not expect that at all - didn't see it coming - and for the first time didn't read the episodes online first before watching.
As the series progressed from Nate's death to his funeral to how the family dealt with it, ugh...I just couldn't stop. The emotions were so real, so raw to me. Then after taking a deep breath, I popped in the last DVD. The last episode of Six Feet Under. For being an ending to a show that's ran for 5 years, they (the producers/staff) did an EXCELLENT job at closure. But again, NONE of my "so called" friends warned me. The series ends with showing how the rest of the family eventually dies. I watched 5 more people die. While all of them were relatively non tragic(with the exception of one) I found myself BAWLING again. It was like losing old friends.
I'm not usually a crier. I have watched many a sad movies and have come out without a tear. Unlike cousin Sherrie who cries when Pa on Little House on the Prairie cries. She'd always say, "He's such a good crier." But I have noticed that since I left Catalysis and all that bad stuff behind, I find myself crying all the time. I can watch When Harry Met Sally for the 15th Thousands time and cry. I never cried before at that movie. And yet, I cry now. I find myself flipping the channel now if something is making me start to cry. That tingle in the eye, the sudden onslaught of moisture in your eyes...blink blink...change the channel.
Its not that time of the month, so I know its not that. And since I just left Catalysis in January I've gone through a few of those moments...but I'm convinced that Catalysis was such a bad environment for me, my heart and soul just closed down. I could feel nothing. And did feel nothing. They beat me down to the point where I had no feelings about anything. THAT is not a good place to be. And now all that pent up saddness, grief, rage, is storming its way out of me. Its very cleansing. Very free-ing ( I realize that's not a word, but it is now).
I think I should have bought stock in Kleenex.
If you've not watched Six Feet Under and plan to...STOP READING.
I sat on my couch last night and gushed water. Mountains of kleenex littered my sofa. I sobbed like I haven't sobbed in a long time. You know the uncontrollable sobs where you almost hyperventilate. No one told me that Nate dies. WTF? No one! I cried and cried and cried. I did not expect that at all - didn't see it coming - and for the first time didn't read the episodes online first before watching.
As the series progressed from Nate's death to his funeral to how the family dealt with it, ugh...I just couldn't stop. The emotions were so real, so raw to me. Then after taking a deep breath, I popped in the last DVD. The last episode of Six Feet Under. For being an ending to a show that's ran for 5 years, they (the producers/staff) did an EXCELLENT job at closure. But again, NONE of my "so called" friends warned me. The series ends with showing how the rest of the family eventually dies. I watched 5 more people die. While all of them were relatively non tragic(with the exception of one) I found myself BAWLING again. It was like losing old friends.
I'm not usually a crier. I have watched many a sad movies and have come out without a tear. Unlike cousin Sherrie who cries when Pa on Little House on the Prairie cries. She'd always say, "He's such a good crier." But I have noticed that since I left Catalysis and all that bad stuff behind, I find myself crying all the time. I can watch When Harry Met Sally for the 15th Thousands time and cry. I never cried before at that movie. And yet, I cry now. I find myself flipping the channel now if something is making me start to cry. That tingle in the eye, the sudden onslaught of moisture in your eyes...blink blink...change the channel.
Its not that time of the month, so I know its not that. And since I just left Catalysis in January I've gone through a few of those moments...but I'm convinced that Catalysis was such a bad environment for me, my heart and soul just closed down. I could feel nothing. And did feel nothing. They beat me down to the point where I had no feelings about anything. THAT is not a good place to be. And now all that pent up saddness, grief, rage, is storming its way out of me. Its very cleansing. Very free-ing ( I realize that's not a word, but it is now).
I think I should have bought stock in Kleenex.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
The Buzz on Phobias
Ah spring. That glorious time of year where nature awakens itself with new birth.
As much as I love spring, it brings up a teeny tiny little phobia I have. Now anyone who knows me knows a few things to be absolutely true about me - I love coffee. I love Mustangs. I hate bell peppers and I HATE BEES.
Bees. They scare the BEEJesus out of me. Any object larger than a nat flying too close for comfort can send me into a frenzy of unrecognizable movements...a fly, a bat, a marshmallow (long story), anything. It could be a bee. And if its a bee, I'm outta there.
Thinking that if I knew more about bees, and understood bees, perhaps I wouldn't be so afraid of them. While I found some interesting pieces of useless knowledge about bees, it hasn't lifted my fear one iota.
For example, did you know there are 20,000 different varieties of bees? Why do we need that many bees?
And did you know the only place in the world you won't find bees is in the very cold polar climates.? Not likely to be a Starbucks around in those places, so living there isn't an option.
We all know the black and yellow bee, but did you know there are bees that come in the colors of red, green, gray, and even blue?
And did you know, of the Earth's entire population, only four percent are allergic to bee stings? I don't know if I'm of that 4% because I don't want to be stung and never have been.
The venom from a bee is transferred through a stinger that the bee leaves behind after stinging you. This stinger will automatically continue to pump the venom into your system for as long as twenty minutes after the initial sting. - Um does anyone else see anything "aby-normal" about this? They are not normal creatures...and should be done away with.
The action of flinging your arms around the air or swatting at the flying bee is interpreted by the bee as being aggressive. And aggressive behavior is cause for a sting. The best approach is to remain calm and the bee will move on within a few minutes. - I'm screwed. I fling everything when a bee's around...and my everything flinging is not a pretty site.
I like being out doors in the summer/spring time. But I always have a watchful eye on anything resembling a bee...AND I always have an escape route planned. Small children and elderly people should be ware if I'm around and outdoors. Because I will lower myself to running you over in the event a bee enters my general vicinity. I cannot be held accountable for your safety.
Why do I hate bees you ask? Who the hell knows. It's an irrational fear I've had for years. I've never been stung, and don't plan to. Though a former boss of mine thinks I should just get stung to get it over with. No thanks, I'll pass.
I was almost in a fatal (because I'm sure I was dying) car crash in college because the person driving (who wasn't me) flung the car to the side of the road because a bee meandered into the car. Now it should be stated that this person also used to say that bees won't hurt you and claimed that her family had a bee farm in her back yard. Why the hell would any SANE person have bees purposefully in their back yard? Anyhow, Casaundra (aka CasaButtay), was driving a long when a bee flew into the car. As I mentioned she flung the car to the side of the road and was out of the car before I could even blink. She, luckily, was in the front seat and could escape relatively unscathed. Me, on the other hand, was stuck in the back seat with a bee and a seat belt that would NOT come loose. Thus my need for an escape route where bees are concerned.
Phobias are funny things. They are silly and mostly irrational. But to the person who has that said phobia, they are real. Which of course got me on the "interweb" to check out phobias. Here are some of the amusing ones I found - And I didn't make these up, I swear.
Vestiphobia - fear of clothes
Pentheraphobia - fear of the mother-in-law
Ophidiophobia - fear of snakes (this ones for you mom...)
Bogeyphobia - fear of the boogy man
Aerophobia- Fear of swallowing air
Arachibutyrophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth
Aulophobia- Fear of flutes
Phobophobia- Fear of fear
Brontophobia - Fear of Thunder
Side Bar: Many moons ago, my mom and I were playing trival pursuit. It seemed the answer to every question that day was "Fear". So, I answered the question with "fear". At the same time, it was thundering outside and my mom said "Thunder". I repeated "Fear" and she repeated "thunder". And so on and so forth. We couldn't get it across to each other what we were saying. To THIS day, whenever we misunderstand what each other says one will say "Fear" and the other responds with "Thunder".
Cnidophobia or Linonophobia- Fear of string
Dextrophobia- Fear of objects at the right side of the body
Geniophobia- Fear of chins
Helmintophobia- Fear of being infested with worms
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- Fear of long words
Paraskavedekatriaphobia- Fear of Friday the 13th
Peladophobia- Fear of bald people
And of course:
Fear of bees is termed "apiphobia," a word derived from "api-" from the Greek "apis" meaning bee + "phobia" from the Greek "phobos" meaning fear = literally, fear (of) bee(s). Apiphobia is also called melissophobia, since "melissa" is another Greek word for bee.
Phobias can deeply impact a person's life. If you do suffer from any phobias, I would suggest calling one-eight-hundred-phobias, for arithmophobics (people who fear numbers) or for logophobics (people who fear words), 1-800-555.5555. (This phone number is for entertainment purposes only.)
As much as I love spring, it brings up a teeny tiny little phobia I have. Now anyone who knows me knows a few things to be absolutely true about me - I love coffee. I love Mustangs. I hate bell peppers and I HATE BEES.
Bees. They scare the BEEJesus out of me. Any object larger than a nat flying too close for comfort can send me into a frenzy of unrecognizable movements...a fly, a bat, a marshmallow (long story), anything. It could be a bee. And if its a bee, I'm outta there.
Thinking that if I knew more about bees, and understood bees, perhaps I wouldn't be so afraid of them. While I found some interesting pieces of useless knowledge about bees, it hasn't lifted my fear one iota.
For example, did you know there are 20,000 different varieties of bees? Why do we need that many bees?
And did you know the only place in the world you won't find bees is in the very cold polar climates.? Not likely to be a Starbucks around in those places, so living there isn't an option.
We all know the black and yellow bee, but did you know there are bees that come in the colors of red, green, gray, and even blue?
And did you know, of the Earth's entire population, only four percent are allergic to bee stings? I don't know if I'm of that 4% because I don't want to be stung and never have been.
The venom from a bee is transferred through a stinger that the bee leaves behind after stinging you. This stinger will automatically continue to pump the venom into your system for as long as twenty minutes after the initial sting. - Um does anyone else see anything "aby-normal" about this? They are not normal creatures...and should be done away with.
The action of flinging your arms around the air or swatting at the flying bee is interpreted by the bee as being aggressive. And aggressive behavior is cause for a sting. The best approach is to remain calm and the bee will move on within a few minutes. - I'm screwed. I fling everything when a bee's around...and my everything flinging is not a pretty site.
I like being out doors in the summer/spring time. But I always have a watchful eye on anything resembling a bee...AND I always have an escape route planned. Small children and elderly people should be ware if I'm around and outdoors. Because I will lower myself to running you over in the event a bee enters my general vicinity. I cannot be held accountable for your safety.
Why do I hate bees you ask? Who the hell knows. It's an irrational fear I've had for years. I've never been stung, and don't plan to. Though a former boss of mine thinks I should just get stung to get it over with. No thanks, I'll pass.
I was almost in a fatal (because I'm sure I was dying) car crash in college because the person driving (who wasn't me) flung the car to the side of the road because a bee meandered into the car. Now it should be stated that this person also used to say that bees won't hurt you and claimed that her family had a bee farm in her back yard. Why the hell would any SANE person have bees purposefully in their back yard? Anyhow, Casaundra (aka CasaButtay), was driving a long when a bee flew into the car. As I mentioned she flung the car to the side of the road and was out of the car before I could even blink. She, luckily, was in the front seat and could escape relatively unscathed. Me, on the other hand, was stuck in the back seat with a bee and a seat belt that would NOT come loose. Thus my need for an escape route where bees are concerned.
Phobias are funny things. They are silly and mostly irrational. But to the person who has that said phobia, they are real. Which of course got me on the "interweb" to check out phobias. Here are some of the amusing ones I found - And I didn't make these up, I swear.
Vestiphobia - fear of clothes
Pentheraphobia - fear of the mother-in-law
Ophidiophobia - fear of snakes (this ones for you mom...)
Bogeyphobia - fear of the boogy man
Aerophobia- Fear of swallowing air
Arachibutyrophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth
Aulophobia- Fear of flutes
Phobophobia- Fear of fear
Brontophobia - Fear of Thunder
Side Bar: Many moons ago, my mom and I were playing trival pursuit. It seemed the answer to every question that day was "Fear". So, I answered the question with "fear". At the same time, it was thundering outside and my mom said "Thunder". I repeated "Fear" and she repeated "thunder". And so on and so forth. We couldn't get it across to each other what we were saying. To THIS day, whenever we misunderstand what each other says one will say "Fear" and the other responds with "Thunder".
Cnidophobia or Linonophobia- Fear of string
Dextrophobia- Fear of objects at the right side of the body
Geniophobia- Fear of chins
Helmintophobia- Fear of being infested with worms
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- Fear of long words
Paraskavedekatriaphobia- Fear of Friday the 13th
Peladophobia- Fear of bald people
And of course:
Fear of bees is termed "apiphobia," a word derived from "api-" from the Greek "apis" meaning bee + "phobia" from the Greek "phobos" meaning fear = literally, fear (of) bee(s). Apiphobia is also called melissophobia, since "melissa" is another Greek word for bee.
Phobias can deeply impact a person's life. If you do suffer from any phobias, I would suggest calling one-eight-hundred-phobias, for arithmophobics (people who fear numbers) or for logophobics (people who fear words), 1-800-555.5555. (This phone number is for entertainment purposes only.)
Ohhh the sound of Rain...
I love that sound. And fortunately for me, I get to hear it a lot in Seattle. You know the sound? The sound of big rain drop pelting the landscape. Refreshing the world. And the smell...that sweet smell of clean air. The smell of cold rain hitting the warmed earth. Its just heaven.
In my old apartment, when it rained I had a symphony outside. I backed up to a green belt so could hear the rain hitting the trees. It was harmonious. And I felt more comfortable sleeping with my windows cracked open in that location too...so I got to hear an amplified version.
Now, in the new apartment, I've got nothing. I can barely tell when its raining outside - with the rare exception of when the rain is accompanied by thunder and hail. A couple of weeks ago we had sun, hard rain, thunder, hard hail, thunder, and more hard rain, and finally sun within 20 minutes. They say if you don't like the weather in Seattle, wait 5 minutes. So I purchased myself a nature sound alarm clock.
Rain Forest - Sounds like bugs, monkeys and snakes, none of which I want near me...kinda creeps me out
Summer night - The crickets are nice, but I have no idea what the other sounds are, so it creeps me out
Ocean - soothing, but too anxious
Waterfall - Sounds like white noise to me so makes me nervous
Thunder - Very soothing. In fact, they should mix this with the Rain sound and of course...RAIN. Oh the sweet gentle sound of rain drops.
Its "high tech" and has a timer on it so I can put the noise on for how ever long I want. And so I've been experimenting. I know, from past experience of watching the clock, it typically takes me 30-45 minutes to fall asleep. So I started at 60 minutes. I never heard the sound turn off. Now I set it for 15 and I never hear the sound turn off.
I'm falling asleep almost immediately...and sleeping soundly too.
The alarm portion of this clock has a couple different options. I can wake to "a" sound, to the radio or to a "buzzer". Waking to a sound that puts me to sleep didn't work.
The radio is old and tired to me. So I thought I'd try the "buzzer". Now my previous clock's buzzer woke the dead, so I was skeptical. But, calling this noise a "buzzer" is really not very accurate. The "wake up sound" as I call it, is a soft gentle beep. Just enough to coax me out of my slumber. I got to sleep in peace and I wake up in peace. Its amazing. Everyone should get one.
Oh and it has the crazy blue light that if it is turned on it puts the time on the ceiling in a spooky blue light. The time, though, is upside down, and I can't figure out how to make it readable..either way it kinda creeps me out.
I think I am officially a true Seattle-lite...I LOVE the sound of rain.
In my old apartment, when it rained I had a symphony outside. I backed up to a green belt so could hear the rain hitting the trees. It was harmonious. And I felt more comfortable sleeping with my windows cracked open in that location too...so I got to hear an amplified version.
Now, in the new apartment, I've got nothing. I can barely tell when its raining outside - with the rare exception of when the rain is accompanied by thunder and hail. A couple of weeks ago we had sun, hard rain, thunder, hard hail, thunder, and more hard rain, and finally sun within 20 minutes. They say if you don't like the weather in Seattle, wait 5 minutes. So I purchased myself a nature sound alarm clock.
Rain Forest - Sounds like bugs, monkeys and snakes, none of which I want near me...kinda creeps me out
Summer night - The crickets are nice, but I have no idea what the other sounds are, so it creeps me out
Ocean - soothing, but too anxious
Waterfall - Sounds like white noise to me so makes me nervous
Thunder - Very soothing. In fact, they should mix this with the Rain sound and of course...RAIN. Oh the sweet gentle sound of rain drops.
Its "high tech" and has a timer on it so I can put the noise on for how ever long I want. And so I've been experimenting. I know, from past experience of watching the clock, it typically takes me 30-45 minutes to fall asleep. So I started at 60 minutes. I never heard the sound turn off. Now I set it for 15 and I never hear the sound turn off.
I'm falling asleep almost immediately...and sleeping soundly too.
The alarm portion of this clock has a couple different options. I can wake to "a" sound, to the radio or to a "buzzer". Waking to a sound that puts me to sleep didn't work.
The radio is old and tired to me. So I thought I'd try the "buzzer". Now my previous clock's buzzer woke the dead, so I was skeptical. But, calling this noise a "buzzer" is really not very accurate. The "wake up sound" as I call it, is a soft gentle beep. Just enough to coax me out of my slumber. I got to sleep in peace and I wake up in peace. Its amazing. Everyone should get one.
Oh and it has the crazy blue light that if it is turned on it puts the time on the ceiling in a spooky blue light. The time, though, is upside down, and I can't figure out how to make it readable..either way it kinda creeps me out.
I think I am officially a true Seattle-lite...I LOVE the sound of rain.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Funerals & Viruses
Funerals are, by definition, sad. Yet, as I walked into the church this Saturday, I reflected on Uncle Gene and his life. And suddenly, I wasn't so sad. I didn't cry really. I got glossy eyed, but no real tears. As the minister and misc family member spoke, it transported me to those happier times. Those times when things were good, and happy, and whole. And I was glad to have had those times with Uncle Gene.
Uncle Gene, like all of us, had his demons. But, I truly believe he did the best he could. But in front of all those demons was the gentle giant. A man who would do anything, give anything to anyone. The minister said it best in that Uncle Gene knew no strangers. And that's a lesson for us all.
During the service, I got to thinking, again, about my own life. And wondered, would people stand up there and speak about my life in a way that would make me proud? Am I doing, in my life, all that I can/want? At the end of day, am I who I want to be? Am I living the life I want? And suddenly, I felt the urge to live more. No more waiting for the "right" time to go to Vancouver or Victoria or San Francisco or all the places I've never been. No more waiting until the right time to tell people you love them and want them in your life. Life is way too short, and way too precious for me to wait now. Be afraid. Jenn's on the loose again. (If any of you remember me during the Sherrie/Cancer years you'll know what I mean by that).
Viruses
I have a virus. A sick, disgusting, green, violating, probing, annoying, unwanted virus. On my computer of course. It kills me. I've never had a virus before and I've gotta tell ya...it sucks. I have 500+ songs on my computer, 1000+ recipes I've collected, all my PM stuff, all my addresses...well frankly, everything. If I lose some of that, I'll just be sick. And yes, this is a lesson in backing up. Dammit!
I loaded McAfee last night and was hoping it would take care of the problem virus...but it hasn't exactly done that. It found it. But it can't delete/clean or quarantine the files. Sick! I feel so violated. Damn stupid virus. Ahhh...but maybe I can go back to Best Buy where I allowed the cute computer geeky guy to charge me $$ to load memory on my computer...just because he was cute.
Uncle Gene, like all of us, had his demons. But, I truly believe he did the best he could. But in front of all those demons was the gentle giant. A man who would do anything, give anything to anyone. The minister said it best in that Uncle Gene knew no strangers. And that's a lesson for us all.
During the service, I got to thinking, again, about my own life. And wondered, would people stand up there and speak about my life in a way that would make me proud? Am I doing, in my life, all that I can/want? At the end of day, am I who I want to be? Am I living the life I want? And suddenly, I felt the urge to live more. No more waiting for the "right" time to go to Vancouver or Victoria or San Francisco or all the places I've never been. No more waiting until the right time to tell people you love them and want them in your life. Life is way too short, and way too precious for me to wait now. Be afraid. Jenn's on the loose again. (If any of you remember me during the Sherrie/Cancer years you'll know what I mean by that).
Viruses
I have a virus. A sick, disgusting, green, violating, probing, annoying, unwanted virus. On my computer of course. It kills me. I've never had a virus before and I've gotta tell ya...it sucks. I have 500+ songs on my computer, 1000+ recipes I've collected, all my PM stuff, all my addresses...well frankly, everything. If I lose some of that, I'll just be sick. And yes, this is a lesson in backing up. Dammit!
I loaded McAfee last night and was hoping it would take care of the problem virus...but it hasn't exactly done that. It found it. But it can't delete/clean or quarantine the files. Sick! I feel so violated. Damn stupid virus. Ahhh...but maybe I can go back to Best Buy where I allowed the cute computer geeky guy to charge me $$ to load memory on my computer...just because he was cute.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Odessa or Bust?
Today I am leaving for Odessa to attend my Uncle's funeral. While the sadness of the loss lingers, I am a bit excited to see the family. We have a pretty large family, and as most families, we tend to get together for funerals and weddings. To give you an idea of how large our family is, my grandfather was one of 12 kids. And all those kids had multiple kids, and so on and so on.
The family lived in a small town called Irby, Washington. Irby consisted of a couple houses, a grain elevator, and a post office. Its about 11 miles West of Odessa. My folks have their "summer" home in Odessa. I laugh at the "summer" home part since most people associate a summer home as a place of refuge, a vacation destination, if you will. Odessa, really isn't that place.
By the grace of the internet, Odessa has its own website. I almost spit my coffee out when I saw it. It has a fantastic photo of the town, so you can truly see the small town-ness of it. And I have to say, considering what I know about Odessa, its a pretty nice website for that sleepy town.
On the photo of Odessa, you'll see a huge white grain elevator next to a big metal building. To the right and slightly behind that grain elevator is where my parents "summer" home sits. And if a website isn't enough, the internet provided me with a town MAP. X marks the spot of the family summer home. Note: no water around. In fact, mom and dad have a great view off their front deck of a...gravel pit. Literally. A 4-5 story high gravel mountain. Oh, the glory of Odessa.
Now don't get me wrong, this .8 square mile little town does have its charms. It has some oddness to it too. For example, its the land that Starbucks forgot. Not a single Starbucks anywhere. They do, now - finally, have a DRIVE THROUGH espresso stand. And by drive through, I mean you don't have to get out of your car. Unlike the drive IN burger place, where you do have to get out of your car.
The Wraspir family has been a main family in Odessa for years. Our GREAT GREAT grandparents settled there from Bohemia. And some family has never left. Its where my dad grew up. Its where my brothers and I spent summers there. Its a family town. Its just not my kind of town. Its small, quaint, and way too quiet.
Though my last visit there I was shocked and stunned to see they have a brewery too. A brewery! With pretty darn good beer too I might add. I'll take dad down there this weekend maybe for a birthday drink.
Well, I'm signing off to head East. Wish me luck. Oh and the best part about this trip, mom and dad weren't planning on returning quite so soon to Odessa, well and so sudden, so we won't have any running water in the house. It'll be like camping. Oh goody!
The family lived in a small town called Irby, Washington. Irby consisted of a couple houses, a grain elevator, and a post office. Its about 11 miles West of Odessa. My folks have their "summer" home in Odessa. I laugh at the "summer" home part since most people associate a summer home as a place of refuge, a vacation destination, if you will. Odessa, really isn't that place.
By the grace of the internet, Odessa has its own website. I almost spit my coffee out when I saw it. It has a fantastic photo of the town, so you can truly see the small town-ness of it. And I have to say, considering what I know about Odessa, its a pretty nice website for that sleepy town.
On the photo of Odessa, you'll see a huge white grain elevator next to a big metal building. To the right and slightly behind that grain elevator is where my parents "summer" home sits. And if a website isn't enough, the internet provided me with a town MAP. X marks the spot of the family summer home. Note: no water around. In fact, mom and dad have a great view off their front deck of a...gravel pit. Literally. A 4-5 story high gravel mountain. Oh, the glory of Odessa.
Now don't get me wrong, this .8 square mile little town does have its charms. It has some oddness to it too. For example, its the land that Starbucks forgot. Not a single Starbucks anywhere. They do, now - finally, have a DRIVE THROUGH espresso stand. And by drive through, I mean you don't have to get out of your car. Unlike the drive IN burger place, where you do have to get out of your car.The Wraspir family has been a main family in Odessa for years. Our GREAT GREAT grandparents settled there from Bohemia. And some family has never left. Its where my dad grew up. Its where my brothers and I spent summers there. Its a family town. Its just not my kind of town. Its small, quaint, and way too quiet.
Though my last visit there I was shocked and stunned to see they have a brewery too. A brewery! With pretty darn good beer too I might add. I'll take dad down there this weekend maybe for a birthday drink.
Well, I'm signing off to head East. Wish me luck. Oh and the best part about this trip, mom and dad weren't planning on returning quite so soon to Odessa, well and so sudden, so we won't have any running water in the house. It'll be like camping. Oh goody!
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Plagerism - Stealing from Ken's blog
So, its rare that someone suggests I see, read, or do something, that truly moves me. But my buddy Ken (who's responsible for me doing this blog) on his blog today "suggested" that "we" (with regards to his readers)
See this movie.
Being a person who usually skeptical I thought I'd check out what movie Ken could possibly be recommending that I would want to see.
I watched the trailer 5 times.
I felt cold.
I felt wronged.
I felt like I HAD to see this movie and understand what everyone has been warning of for years.
Remember I mentioned that I was skeptical. I realized that while I think global warming is a problem, I some how filed that "problem" away with "not my problem". I guess I always expected someone else to do something about it. Then I realized. I was someone.
The movie releases in May. I'm prepared to see it and to be numb with fear and saddness by the end of it
See this movie.
Being a person who usually skeptical I thought I'd check out what movie Ken could possibly be recommending that I would want to see.
I watched the trailer 5 times.
I felt cold.
I felt wronged.
I felt like I HAD to see this movie and understand what everyone has been warning of for years.
Remember I mentioned that I was skeptical. I realized that while I think global warming is a problem, I some how filed that "problem" away with "not my problem". I guess I always expected someone else to do something about it. Then I realized. I was someone.
The movie releases in May. I'm prepared to see it and to be numb with fear and saddness by the end of it
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Mike and Sherrie's Birthday Celebration
YUM...that's about all I can use to describe the culinary feast we had for Mike and Sherrie's birthday yesterday (4.18). Sherrie was a real trooper to come out and celebrate her birthday even with her father just passing. I think it helped keep her mind off things a bit.
We went to this cute little Cafe in Bellevue, Cafe Pirouette. Their specialty was Crepes. Of which, none of us ordered. But we'll be back. The service was EXCELLENT...and the food was out of this world. I had the Chicken Saltimbocca...man...I tell ya...
They did provide desserts for Mike and Sherrie's birthday, but we didn't sing...thank god. Mike's sister, Suzie and brother in law Brian also joined.
At the table: Front Suzie, Brian, Mike, Me and Sherrie.
We went to this cute little Cafe in Bellevue, Cafe Pirouette. Their specialty was Crepes. Of which, none of us ordered. But we'll be back. The service was EXCELLENT...and the food was out of this world. I had the Chicken Saltimbocca...man...I tell ya...
They did provide desserts for Mike and Sherrie's birthday, but we didn't sing...thank god. Mike's sister, Suzie and brother in law Brian also joined.
At the table: Front Suzie, Brian, Mike, Me and Sherrie.
Its a Sad day in the State of Washington
Uncle Gene passed away today. He was Sherrie's dad and my dad's brother.
Uncle Gene was a farmer by trade. A gruff man. A hard working man with hands the size of Texas.
I can recall as if it were yesterday the first day I met him. Mom and Dad had sent me to Washington for the summer (we lived in California at the time). I was flying on the plane by myself and Dad had told me Uncle Gene would be meeting me at the airport. He also said that I would recognize him because he was very tall and would have a HUGE cowboy hat on - well that and he'd with with Grandma.
So here I am, a somewhat shy 7th grader, stepping off a plane after being by myself on the plane - nervous that no one will be there to mee me, when suddenly I am greated by this HUGE man giving me an enormous bear hug. "Its about time you made it Suzie." he said to me. He always called me Suzie. No idea why, he just did.
We all miss you Uncle Gene! Be the angel we know you will be.
Uncle Gene was a farmer by trade. A gruff man. A hard working man with hands the size of Texas.
I can recall as if it were yesterday the first day I met him. Mom and Dad had sent me to Washington for the summer (we lived in California at the time). I was flying on the plane by myself and Dad had told me Uncle Gene would be meeting me at the airport. He also said that I would recognize him because he was very tall and would have a HUGE cowboy hat on - well that and he'd with with Grandma.
So here I am, a somewhat shy 7th grader, stepping off a plane after being by myself on the plane - nervous that no one will be there to mee me, when suddenly I am greated by this HUGE man giving me an enormous bear hug. "Its about time you made it Suzie." he said to me. He always called me Suzie. No idea why, he just did.
We all miss you Uncle Gene! Be the angel we know you will be.
FREE BEER - Snipers on the Roof - & Chinese Protestors
FREE BEER
After the day from hell, I was in much need of some Sh*tKicking. So I met friend Shan (my new Sh*tKicker partner in crime) for dinner. Our plan was to gorge ourselves at Madam K's on their fantastic garlic saturated cuisine (knowing we wouldn't likely be kissing any men that night we figured it was safe). I got there before Shannon and went to get us a table. And there, on the door, was the most sadistic piece of paper I've ever seen. I stood -unable to move, in total denial, in front of the door of Madam K's....they were closed (and for no good reason I might add). I almost cried. Shannon would surely blow a gaskit because I had so hyped up the Macaroni & Cheese for weeks now. So after breaking the news to Shannon - whom I thought was going to lose it in Ballard over the loss of the macNcheese (Shan's a big MacNChees fan) - we headed to the Old Time Pub. They had Manny's on Tap so Shan was content. Four beers later - no not four each...two mannies for Shan and two Stella's for me - bellies full of bar food, we headed to the tractor tavern.
Once there, the promoter guy outside told us to go in for the FREE BEER. Shan and I looked at each other and said, "Free beer?" We almost stumbled over each other to get inside. Inside, we asked the ID checker chick and she confirmed it, FREE BEER. We knew this brewery from Montana was launching a new beer that night, but surely it wouldn't be free. To the bar we went...and sure enough... FREE BEER! How could the night get better? So we sat and drank FREE BEER for an hour or so. Party Pal Michael (not to be confused with my friend Mike - two different guys - two very different personality - unfortunately the same name) shows up well clad in his western wear after the first set and we all settled in for a second set of good down home country versions of Jounry, Steve Miller band, Johnny Cash and of course, Exile.
No floor issues this time, no embarrassing comments made, but Paul Jensen in Wranglers could quite possibly send a girl to her grave early. Man o Man...! Michael, Shannon and I literally closed the Tractor Tavern last night. We sat talking after the band had finished, packed up and were walking out the door. The bar tender was giving us subtle hints like turning off the lights and turning off the music...= )
Snipers on the Roof
Today the President of China is visiting Microsoft. The powers that be have been warning us all week about trouble with traffic and demonstrations and the extra security that would be around. Lucky me works across the street to the building the President will be visiting. As I pulled into work this morning (after1.5 hours on the road in traffic) there - on the roof of my building - snipers...7 of them.
Chinese Protestors
While trying to actually get onto campus we were surrounded by Chinese protestors. How do I know they were Chinese? Well, they looked Chinese and all their signs were in Chinese. Which got me to thinking...if they really want to make a statement, and are standing at the entrances of Microsoft - why not put their protest banners in ENGLISH...that way we can all know what their protesting.
Stay tuned - tomorrow I'll have pictures of the Sh*tKicker party last night
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE & SHERRIE - YOU'RE BOTH OLD
After the day from hell, I was in much need of some Sh*tKicking. So I met friend Shan (my new Sh*tKicker partner in crime) for dinner. Our plan was to gorge ourselves at Madam K's on their fantastic garlic saturated cuisine (knowing we wouldn't likely be kissing any men that night we figured it was safe). I got there before Shannon and went to get us a table. And there, on the door, was the most sadistic piece of paper I've ever seen. I stood -unable to move, in total denial, in front of the door of Madam K's....they were closed (and for no good reason I might add). I almost cried. Shannon would surely blow a gaskit because I had so hyped up the Macaroni & Cheese for weeks now. So after breaking the news to Shannon - whom I thought was going to lose it in Ballard over the loss of the macNcheese (Shan's a big MacNChees fan) - we headed to the Old Time Pub. They had Manny's on Tap so Shan was content. Four beers later - no not four each...two mannies for Shan and two Stella's for me - bellies full of bar food, we headed to the tractor tavern.
Once there, the promoter guy outside told us to go in for the FREE BEER. Shan and I looked at each other and said, "Free beer?" We almost stumbled over each other to get inside. Inside, we asked the ID checker chick and she confirmed it, FREE BEER. We knew this brewery from Montana was launching a new beer that night, but surely it wouldn't be free. To the bar we went...and sure enough... FREE BEER! How could the night get better? So we sat and drank FREE BEER for an hour or so. Party Pal Michael (not to be confused with my friend Mike - two different guys - two very different personality - unfortunately the same name) shows up well clad in his western wear after the first set and we all settled in for a second set of good down home country versions of Jounry, Steve Miller band, Johnny Cash and of course, Exile.
No floor issues this time, no embarrassing comments made, but Paul Jensen in Wranglers could quite possibly send a girl to her grave early. Man o Man...! Michael, Shannon and I literally closed the Tractor Tavern last night. We sat talking after the band had finished, packed up and were walking out the door. The bar tender was giving us subtle hints like turning off the lights and turning off the music...= )
Snipers on the Roof
Today the President of China is visiting Microsoft. The powers that be have been warning us all week about trouble with traffic and demonstrations and the extra security that would be around. Lucky me works across the street to the building the President will be visiting. As I pulled into work this morning (after1.5 hours on the road in traffic) there - on the roof of my building - snipers...7 of them.
Chinese Protestors
While trying to actually get onto campus we were surrounded by Chinese protestors. How do I know they were Chinese? Well, they looked Chinese and all their signs were in Chinese. Which got me to thinking...if they really want to make a statement, and are standing at the entrances of Microsoft - why not put their protest banners in ENGLISH...that way we can all know what their protesting.
Stay tuned - tomorrow I'll have pictures of the Sh*tKicker party last night
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE & SHERRIE - YOU'RE BOTH OLD
Monday, April 17, 2006
Happy Freakin' Monday
This blog post is later than normal because I've had to be sure the evil spirits that inhibited my mind and body today were all purged before I wrote. Its been a Monday. To sum it up in one well descriptive word that everyone can understand..."UGH!"
When I left this morning I left on time, dressed for a customer visit, beautiful sunny day in Seattle (rare to be sure), everything seemed at peace. Then I made the fatal decision that would put my day into a tail spin....I decided to stop at Tully's for coffee.
Not unusual for me by any means. But just about every morning I do play this "Should I?" or "Shouldn't I?" game about stopping. Now, the game isn't about whether to have coffee, its just about whether I should wait until I get to work, of just stop off at Tully's. Some days work wins, but today Tully's won.
I parked, hopped out of the car and headed in. I didn't lock the car because there's no need really, I wouldn't be in Tully's for long, after all. Ordered my drink and I was out the door. Getting back into the Explorer, I flipped it on to get the heater going again, then I realized there was an "old" coffee cup in the cup holder, so I grabbed it and put my new steaming cuppa Tully's there. Hopping out of the Explorer to toss the cup I left the door open...it swung far enough to trigger it to bounce back and shut. As I heard it slightly click I thought, "Gosh I hope it wasn't locked." And yet, sadly, it was. My elbow tends to hit the lock button when I get out of the truck...and so it was half way down, and the door half way closed....UGH!
So into Tully's I go, thankful for spending the $$ for AAA way back when when I got a flat. (See "Flat Tires and Last Days on January 6th posts for AAA story). The girls at Tully's were exceptional in their "calm the crazy woman who's locked out of her running car with the coffee on the inside" assistance. They not only gave me another coffee, but offered me a bagel too. The AAA guy said it would be anywhere from 15 to 60 minutes. Great. I'm trapped in Tully's for an hour.
While I was sitting in Tully's though, I realized I had left my badge at home. Why I just grabbed my wallet from my purse and only brought that is beyond me. I never do that...and yet...here I am with just my wallet. Ugh!
2.5 hours later...I made it to work. And lock smith guy was an ass...laughing and carrying on about how women always do this...blah blah blah...
During my stay at Tully's this morning, I was treated to pleasant conversations from three older gentlemen (George, Roger and Bill) - (by older I mean mid 60's) who frequent Tully's every morning. Its their "Cheers". All three of them felt my pain apparently and kept me up beat by recounting numerous tales of their childhood and what not. All three clearly characters and full of it...but very pleasant gentlemen.
Finally, to work, get my temp badge, get up to my computer, flip it on...and WHABAM! A reminder pops up telling me I was supposed to be in a customer meeting 45 minutes ago. Double UGH.
But tonight will prove to be fun...off to see the Sh*tKickers with my pal Shannon. A local brewery is launching a new beer tonight so this should be fun. I mean what could be better? Paul Jensen in Wranglers and Beer...come on 7pm. I'll try to stay off the bar floor tonight, but considering my day...who knows?
When I left this morning I left on time, dressed for a customer visit, beautiful sunny day in Seattle (rare to be sure), everything seemed at peace. Then I made the fatal decision that would put my day into a tail spin....I decided to stop at Tully's for coffee.
Not unusual for me by any means. But just about every morning I do play this "Should I?" or "Shouldn't I?" game about stopping. Now, the game isn't about whether to have coffee, its just about whether I should wait until I get to work, of just stop off at Tully's. Some days work wins, but today Tully's won.
I parked, hopped out of the car and headed in. I didn't lock the car because there's no need really, I wouldn't be in Tully's for long, after all. Ordered my drink and I was out the door. Getting back into the Explorer, I flipped it on to get the heater going again, then I realized there was an "old" coffee cup in the cup holder, so I grabbed it and put my new steaming cuppa Tully's there. Hopping out of the Explorer to toss the cup I left the door open...it swung far enough to trigger it to bounce back and shut. As I heard it slightly click I thought, "Gosh I hope it wasn't locked." And yet, sadly, it was. My elbow tends to hit the lock button when I get out of the truck...and so it was half way down, and the door half way closed....UGH!
So into Tully's I go, thankful for spending the $$ for AAA way back when when I got a flat. (See "Flat Tires and Last Days on January 6th posts for AAA story). The girls at Tully's were exceptional in their "calm the crazy woman who's locked out of her running car with the coffee on the inside" assistance. They not only gave me another coffee, but offered me a bagel too. The AAA guy said it would be anywhere from 15 to 60 minutes. Great. I'm trapped in Tully's for an hour.
While I was sitting in Tully's though, I realized I had left my badge at home. Why I just grabbed my wallet from my purse and only brought that is beyond me. I never do that...and yet...here I am with just my wallet. Ugh!
2.5 hours later...I made it to work. And lock smith guy was an ass...laughing and carrying on about how women always do this...blah blah blah...
During my stay at Tully's this morning, I was treated to pleasant conversations from three older gentlemen (George, Roger and Bill) - (by older I mean mid 60's) who frequent Tully's every morning. Its their "Cheers". All three of them felt my pain apparently and kept me up beat by recounting numerous tales of their childhood and what not. All three clearly characters and full of it...but very pleasant gentlemen.
Finally, to work, get my temp badge, get up to my computer, flip it on...and WHABAM! A reminder pops up telling me I was supposed to be in a customer meeting 45 minutes ago. Double UGH.
But tonight will prove to be fun...off to see the Sh*tKickers with my pal Shannon. A local brewery is launching a new beer tonight so this should be fun. I mean what could be better? Paul Jensen in Wranglers and Beer...come on 7pm. I'll try to stay off the bar floor tonight, but considering my day...who knows?
Friday, April 14, 2006
Random Thoughts. By Jenn...and I mean Random
So here's the deal. I have thoughts that pass through my mind that once they've passed through my immediate thought is "WTF?" Of course which is followed by, "I think I'll write about this in my blog"....here are some random thoughts that passed through my mind from the time I got up this morning to when I got to work (in record time I might add, 33 minutes from door to door...Not normal. Which only means tonight's commute will SUCK.)
First thought happened as I was watching the clock tick from 6:58 to 6:59. (Besides the obvious thought of I really didn't need to get up this early.) I started rattling off all the organs in my head. Not the kind you play, the kind you have. Heart, Lungs, Skin, Tonsuls (?spelling), Appendix(?spelling), Pancreas...then I thought do we need half these? What if...?
In the shower: I really liked watching Little House. Pa was such a good crier. And I got a Dudley song stuck in my head.
While brushing my teeth: I wonder if Mustang would come in a green apple color. OOOO a mustang...drool.
While dressing: Coupled with the obligatory "I have nothing to wear" was "How many pounds of chocolate would be sold this weekend? Millions?" And, "how many children are being lied to this weekend by being told about the Easter Bunny?" And, "how do parents deal with it when a child realizes their parents have been lying to them for years?"
Driving: Now driving, it turns out, is like a stuck song syndrome for me and my thoughts. I went back to the organs again to see if I could name any more...and wondered if the tongue was an organ. Surely there were more organs then that in our body then what I've named? Did I ever have a class on that in school? Ah School....TASIS...Jorga (friend from TASIS who was probably the most random person I ever met)...Mike Greene...Slugs....DaNobli....317 years old...Lugano...Cabonara...Mueslix....InProgram Travel...drunk.....hicky.... Biology class...making gum in chemisty...being a prefect....the canadian cookie fairy...Rachel...HollyWood...pringles...
All those items have stories to them, but as I thought of one thing it lead to another. For example, Mike Greene...he always told me that I lived in the "fake" Washington since he lived in DC - which he felt was the "real" Washington...but he also added the only thing in the "fake Washington were apples and slugs.
Oh my mind is a spinnin'.
Still while driving and in between singing Dudley Manlove "If I could read your mind love".
Other thoughts that passed:
First thought happened as I was watching the clock tick from 6:58 to 6:59. (Besides the obvious thought of I really didn't need to get up this early.) I started rattling off all the organs in my head. Not the kind you play, the kind you have. Heart, Lungs, Skin, Tonsuls (?spelling), Appendix(?spelling), Pancreas...then I thought do we need half these? What if...?
In the shower: I really liked watching Little House. Pa was such a good crier. And I got a Dudley song stuck in my head.
While brushing my teeth: I wonder if Mustang would come in a green apple color. OOOO a mustang...drool.
While dressing: Coupled with the obligatory "I have nothing to wear" was "How many pounds of chocolate would be sold this weekend? Millions?" And, "how many children are being lied to this weekend by being told about the Easter Bunny?" And, "how do parents deal with it when a child realizes their parents have been lying to them for years?"
Driving: Now driving, it turns out, is like a stuck song syndrome for me and my thoughts. I went back to the organs again to see if I could name any more...and wondered if the tongue was an organ. Surely there were more organs then that in our body then what I've named? Did I ever have a class on that in school? Ah School....TASIS...Jorga (friend from TASIS who was probably the most random person I ever met)...Mike Greene...Slugs....DaNobli....317 years old...Lugano...Cabonara...Mueslix....InProgram Travel...drunk.....hicky.... Biology class...making gum in chemisty...being a prefect....the canadian cookie fairy...Rachel...HollyWood...pringles...
All those items have stories to them, but as I thought of one thing it lead to another. For example, Mike Greene...he always told me that I lived in the "fake" Washington since he lived in DC - which he felt was the "real" Washington...but he also added the only thing in the "fake Washington were apples and slugs.
Oh my mind is a spinnin'.
Still while driving and in between singing Dudley Manlove "If I could read your mind love".
Other thoughts that passed:
- Yellow is not a color I'd put on a minivan
- Why do so many people get off at Bothell? Whats in Bothell?
- An automatic blinker that was connected to a person's brain would be nice. You think you're gonna change lanes, the blinker goes on.
- Which lead to - an automatic dope slap would be nice for that guy in the miata. Dumbass.
- What type of egg decorating stuff should I get for Saturday?
- I need a nail file
- Any other organs? O-R-A-N-G-E-S...not oranges, O-R-A-G...what the hell? You can spell Organs! O-R-G-A-N-S.
- I'm thirsty.
- I want to go to the ocean
- What will I write about in my blog today?
And you see...its random. I'm so glad its Friday.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Psychological Torture
It took me well over an hour to get to work today. And as I was sitting underneath a freeway sign that blurts out how long the commute is from that point to where I need to be, I realized something. That's psychological torture.
I'm, by definition of a personality test I took in my Managing Project Teams class, a Sensor. Which means I am super in need to get things done now, pronto, don't have time to chitty chat, wanna move move move.
That's important to know since I'm going to talk about ALL the psychological torture one goes through in a day that I'll bet you never thought of - well, unless you're a sensor. Or worse you're wondering why I'm thinking about them...
First let's start with the commuter time indicator. That's just mean. By the time I get to this particular indicator I've usually already been sitting in traffic. I know how far I have to go. I know there's traffic...I don't really need to know its going to take me 31 minutes to go another 7 miles. Torture, I tellya. Of course the flip of that was if that sign EVER said 7 minutes for the next 7 miles...which it wouldn't because this particular freeway NEVER is that fast.
Then there's the psychological torture tools my computer unleashes on me. That bar that tells me how much more it'll take to download something as I sit and tap my feet wondering why its taking so long (when its only taking a couple seconds...maybe).
But what's worse is when your computer is working and you get no bar telling you its working. You know its working because its making noise, but you see nothing. So you click on things to "make it move faster". Or you move your mouse around to "make it move faster". The little "window's flag" in the corner of IE that waves as its loading a site. Torture!
And the clock. I'm a clock watcher. I watch the minutes slowly tick away all day. Waiting, helplessly for 4pm to come when I can hurry and sit in traffic and watch the psychological torture that is traffic.
The other thing that's torturous (if that's a word) to me, are pop up reminders. I know they're there for a reason. But I'm a clock watcher...I know when I have a meeting coming...and I know when I'm running late for that meeting. But its the worse when you're trying to get something done in time for that meeting, and this little evil remind pops up and YELLS at you that you only have 15 minutes left. Snoozing it is good, but then it pops up again (and if it could laugh I'm sure it would be one that is evil) at 5 minutes. Argh! And I can't turn them off because I secretly need to know when I'm about to be late...are you starting to see my dilemna now?
Maybe I should cut down on the caffeine! And don't get me started on waiting in line for my morning coffee...
I'm, by definition of a personality test I took in my Managing Project Teams class, a Sensor. Which means I am super in need to get things done now, pronto, don't have time to chitty chat, wanna move move move.
That's important to know since I'm going to talk about ALL the psychological torture one goes through in a day that I'll bet you never thought of - well, unless you're a sensor. Or worse you're wondering why I'm thinking about them...
First let's start with the commuter time indicator. That's just mean. By the time I get to this particular indicator I've usually already been sitting in traffic. I know how far I have to go. I know there's traffic...I don't really need to know its going to take me 31 minutes to go another 7 miles. Torture, I tellya. Of course the flip of that was if that sign EVER said 7 minutes for the next 7 miles...which it wouldn't because this particular freeway NEVER is that fast.
Then there's the psychological torture tools my computer unleashes on me. That bar that tells me how much more it'll take to download something as I sit and tap my feet wondering why its taking so long (when its only taking a couple seconds...maybe).
But what's worse is when your computer is working and you get no bar telling you its working. You know its working because its making noise, but you see nothing. So you click on things to "make it move faster". Or you move your mouse around to "make it move faster". The little "window's flag" in the corner of IE that waves as its loading a site. Torture!
And the clock. I'm a clock watcher. I watch the minutes slowly tick away all day. Waiting, helplessly for 4pm to come when I can hurry and sit in traffic and watch the psychological torture that is traffic.
The other thing that's torturous (if that's a word) to me, are pop up reminders. I know they're there for a reason. But I'm a clock watcher...I know when I have a meeting coming...and I know when I'm running late for that meeting. But its the worse when you're trying to get something done in time for that meeting, and this little evil remind pops up and YELLS at you that you only have 15 minutes left. Snoozing it is good, but then it pops up again (and if it could laugh I'm sure it would be one that is evil) at 5 minutes. Argh! And I can't turn them off because I secretly need to know when I'm about to be late...are you starting to see my dilemna now?
Maybe I should cut down on the caffeine! And don't get me started on waiting in line for my morning coffee...
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Who are the Dudley Manlove Quartet
I found this killer picture(s) of the DMQ. Can you not see why I adore Paul?
The boys dress up in "a band" for the Halloween show. This year they were the Culture Club.
The fridge, the PMI and Pookie the Wonder Cat learns to fly
I know you all have been waiting with baited breath to find out how the fridge ordeal turned out. Thankfully I did not have to witness TWO maintenance men and their cracks moving the mighty fridge. But alas, when I got home last night I noticed two things, well three really. One, there was DIRT everywhere in my entry way and kitchen...and I know it wasn't there earlier. TWO, all my beer was on the counter top. And three, I had a DIFFERENT fridge...let us be clear here...D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T...as in NOT NEW.
Noting that the beer was on the counter, I promptly put it back into the crispers (what? Don't you put your beer in the crisper?) Now, by providing me a new fridge, that means they had to take everything out of the one, which thankfully wasn't much considering I had to dump a lot just because the old one didn't work. But, all the food, condiments, milk, eggs, butter, etc ... ALL of it ended up on the same shelf. I should have taken a picture, but I was too dumbstruck to think cleary (no comments about my ability to think cleary in general). None put in the door or the egg tray or the butter tray...nope all of it on one shelf. I quickly summized it was because they were men. Surely a woman would have put the items BACK where they belong...Sorry guys. The freezer is a whole other story. The ice trays were left on the counter...so no ice. Which isn't too bad considering they weren't frozen to begin with. And everything was stacked, well tossed really, into the freezer...my chocolate chips are mingling with my crab and pork chops. All in all, I guess I'll stop complaining. I have a fridge that works and a freezer that works. I can now make Bolognese again and freeze it... mmmm...
PMI
Last night I got an opportunity to geek out at the PMI (Project Management Institute) monthly chapter meeting. I love Proj Mgmt stuff. I have several, and I mean several, books on the subject....many not quite read yet, but I have them in the event I do read again. Anyhow, the PMI has speakers come in monthly to discuss Proj Mgmt stuff. Its a room full of type A personalities, all project managers and a large amount of PMPs. I feel so in my element there. 80% are men, mostly Boeing I noticed, and let's say "older than me" so as to not offend mom, who's surely reading this. Last night was on estimating...a topic I am not overly confident about as it has to do with math - shudder shudder. As the instructor was discussing the formulas and ideas behind estimating, I got to thinking how much I had forgotten since taking the PMP test...and it hasn't even been a year. Better bone up on those topics again...thank god I have those books.
Pooking the Wonder Cat learns to fly.
Know anyone who wants a cat? I'm going to kill mine, and/or put him outside. (Of course anyone who knows me knows I adore my cat and wouldn't even fathom letting him THINK about going outside)...but unless he stops his latest tactic to get my attention, I am going to duct tape him to the wall. I got that idea from my friend Mike who's always full of creative ways to mangle a cat. (He's not a cat lover).
Let me set the scene. It's late, 11pm something - because I had to stay up and watch TWO episodes of Apprentice (which thankfully I got home in time from the PMI to watch the firing in the first episode). So I'm tired. The Donald and the PMI and the day in general just tuckered me out. I had turned on my heating blanket when I got home so the sheets would be nice and toasty when I jumped into bed (heaven on earth). And oh yah, I got new sheets with a higher thread count than 3 and OMG....I will never go back.
Anyhow, I'm slowing dozing off, just at that stage when your body settles in and you're drifting off...when what do I hear. CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK - A PAUSE - THEN CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK....
The cat has decided to walk the length of my vertical blinds. He pauses long enough after he hears me stir for me to think he's done walking the line. Then starts again. I figured I could out smart him and thought he'd bore of it soon enough. 10 minutes went by...CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK. Argh!
Flinging back the covers (and of course throwing them back into place so the heat doesn't escape while I'm out killing the cat), I march out to the living room...and of course he's no where to be found. Well, at least I can't see him (its dark, he's black, you do the math). So here I am standing in the middle of the living room pointing and shaking my finger, at what I don't know...telling "the cat" to stop it or I'm going to fry him up for breakfast. I pause, and I hear nothing. Oh sweet silence. As I walk away to go back to my room I hear...CLINK CLINK CLINK. Damn cat!
Noting that the beer was on the counter, I promptly put it back into the crispers (what? Don't you put your beer in the crisper?) Now, by providing me a new fridge, that means they had to take everything out of the one, which thankfully wasn't much considering I had to dump a lot just because the old one didn't work. But, all the food, condiments, milk, eggs, butter, etc ... ALL of it ended up on the same shelf. I should have taken a picture, but I was too dumbstruck to think cleary (no comments about my ability to think cleary in general). None put in the door or the egg tray or the butter tray...nope all of it on one shelf. I quickly summized it was because they were men. Surely a woman would have put the items BACK where they belong...Sorry guys. The freezer is a whole other story. The ice trays were left on the counter...so no ice. Which isn't too bad considering they weren't frozen to begin with. And everything was stacked, well tossed really, into the freezer...my chocolate chips are mingling with my crab and pork chops. All in all, I guess I'll stop complaining. I have a fridge that works and a freezer that works. I can now make Bolognese again and freeze it... mmmm...
PMI
Last night I got an opportunity to geek out at the PMI (Project Management Institute) monthly chapter meeting. I love Proj Mgmt stuff. I have several, and I mean several, books on the subject....many not quite read yet, but I have them in the event I do read again. Anyhow, the PMI has speakers come in monthly to discuss Proj Mgmt stuff. Its a room full of type A personalities, all project managers and a large amount of PMPs. I feel so in my element there. 80% are men, mostly Boeing I noticed, and let's say "older than me" so as to not offend mom, who's surely reading this. Last night was on estimating...a topic I am not overly confident about as it has to do with math - shudder shudder. As the instructor was discussing the formulas and ideas behind estimating, I got to thinking how much I had forgotten since taking the PMP test...and it hasn't even been a year. Better bone up on those topics again...thank god I have those books.
Pooking the Wonder Cat learns to fly.
Know anyone who wants a cat? I'm going to kill mine, and/or put him outside. (Of course anyone who knows me knows I adore my cat and wouldn't even fathom letting him THINK about going outside
Let me set the scene. It's late, 11pm something - because I had to stay up and watch TWO episodes of Apprentice (which thankfully I got home in time from the PMI to watch the firing in the first episode). So I'm tired. The Donald and the PMI and the day in general just tuckered me out. I had turned on my heating blanket when I got home so the sheets would be nice and toasty when I jumped into bed (heaven on earth). And oh yah, I got new sheets with a higher thread count than 3 and OMG....I will never go back.
Anyhow, I'm slowing dozing off, just at that stage when your body settles in and you're drifting off...when what do I hear. CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK - A PAUSE - THEN CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK....
The cat has decided to walk the length of my vertical blinds. He pauses long enough after he hears me stir for me to think he's done walking the line. Then starts again. I figured I could out smart him and thought he'd bore of it soon enough. 10 minutes went by...CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK. Argh!
Flinging back the covers (and of course throwing them back into place so the heat doesn't escape while I'm out killing the cat), I march out to the living room...and of course he's no where to be found. Well, at least I can't see him (its dark, he's black, you do the math). So here I am standing in the middle of the living room pointing and shaking my finger, at what I don't know...telling "the cat" to stop it or I'm going to fry him up for breakfast. I pause, and I hear nothing. Oh sweet silence. As I walk away to go back to my room I hear...CLINK CLINK CLINK. Damn cat!
Monday, April 10, 2006
The Done blog...
I'm done. I'm done with just about everything I am tired of doing.
I'm done being the social planner for some of my friends. I'm tired of always calling them to set up times and dates for us to meet. Wouldn't you think if they really wanted to see me they'd maybe take some time out of their lives, which are no less busy then mine, to pick up the phone and call? Either way. I'm done. I know I'll lose some friendships this way, but truth be told, I'll have more time to focus on the relationships that mean something. It just sickens me to think how much effort I put toward some friends and get really nothing in return. But from an obscene obligation of an "old" friendship, I feel the need to keep it up...but do they? Doubt it...and if actions are proof, then I'm in the right direction.
I'm done with the crush. He hasn't exactly showed he's interested. Nor has he responded to any of my emails - personal ones anyhow...but has responded to work related ones. So, I'm done. I just don't need to keep the bait in the water that just isn't going to make an effort, or want to make an effort, to produce anything. I'm tired of trying so hard. The person I end up with won't be this much work, I'm sure of it.
I'm done obsessing over whether I'm "good" enough to work here. Past years at my former company has messed with my confidence so much, that I find myself constantly wondering when they'll fire me here...surely they'll see that I'm not qualified. All the while I know I am...but now, I'm done. A new confidence has washed over me.
I'm done being the social planner for some of my friends. I'm tired of always calling them to set up times and dates for us to meet. Wouldn't you think if they really wanted to see me they'd maybe take some time out of their lives, which are no less busy then mine, to pick up the phone and call? Either way. I'm done. I know I'll lose some friendships this way, but truth be told, I'll have more time to focus on the relationships that mean something. It just sickens me to think how much effort I put toward some friends and get really nothing in return. But from an obscene obligation of an "old" friendship, I feel the need to keep it up...but do they? Doubt it...and if actions are proof, then I'm in the right direction.
I'm done with the crush. He hasn't exactly showed he's interested. Nor has he responded to any of my emails - personal ones anyhow...but has responded to work related ones. So, I'm done. I just don't need to keep the bait in the water that just isn't going to make an effort, or want to make an effort, to produce anything. I'm tired of trying so hard. The person I end up with won't be this much work, I'm sure of it.
I'm done obsessing over whether I'm "good" enough to work here. Past years at my former company has messed with my confidence so much, that I find myself constantly wondering when they'll fire me here...surely they'll see that I'm not qualified. All the while I know I am...but now, I'm done. A new confidence has washed over me.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Jenn:1 Refrigerator 1
We're in a dead tie, the refrigerator and I. A couple of weeks ago I recounted my story of the refrigerator beating me with a scrap piece of paper. But today...today I think I may have finally won...Or at least tied. I should get bonus points for having to endure the maintenance crack.
The refrigerator hasn't exactly been working to its top capacity. Well, let's call a spade a spade...it hasn't exactly been "refrigerating" at all. I've had the unfortunate task of throwing out what used to be perfectly good frozen food. Call me crazy, but ice cubes should be solid, right? yah mine...more like, well, ah...water. And sadly we mourn the loss of some remaining spaghetti bolognese sauce I made a few weeks ago...and it never froze.
So today, Mr. Maintenance showed up at my door step to "fix" the beast. He waltz in all knowing and smelling of old oil. He and his visible butt crack checked out the innards. And finally, after a half a dozen conversations with himself, he gave me his most sorrowful look and announced its dead. He can't fix it. That's the bad news. "huh?" I thought that would be the good news, because that means I can do the "New Refrigerator" Dance. The good news is that he will be replacing it..... but can't today because he has no one to help him carry the sorry thing to the dump. Instinctively I almost offered to help move the beast out of the apt, but decided against it. So tomorrow, I'll have a "new" refrigerator. Not sure what they mean by new as in "BRAND" new or one that is just different.
In other news, I started walking again today. Shin splints and bad shoes hindered my attempt at 3 miles...but there's always tomorrow...and of course a new pair of shoes.
I did spend time at the HotWire cafe today. It was packed and noisy today so I couldn't concentrate on my book. Its a hard book to read...I need to concentrate.
The refrigerator hasn't exactly been working to its top capacity. Well, let's call a spade a spade...it hasn't exactly been "refrigerating" at all. I've had the unfortunate task of throwing out what used to be perfectly good frozen food. Call me crazy, but ice cubes should be solid, right? yah mine...more like, well, ah...water. And sadly we mourn the loss of some remaining spaghetti bolognese sauce I made a few weeks ago...and it never froze.
So today, Mr. Maintenance showed up at my door step to "fix" the beast. He waltz in all knowing and smelling of old oil. He and his visible butt crack checked out the innards. And finally, after a half a dozen conversations with himself, he gave me his most sorrowful look and announced its dead. He can't fix it. That's the bad news. "huh?" I thought that would be the good news, because that means I can do the "New Refrigerator" Dance. The good news is that he will be replacing it.
In other news, I started walking again today. Shin splints and bad shoes hindered my attempt at 3 miles...but there's always tomorrow...and of course a new pair of shoes.
I did spend time at the HotWire cafe today. It was packed and noisy today so I couldn't concentrate on my book. Its a hard book to read...I need to concentrate.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Question of the Day
I don't get it. When you pour a diet coke into a glass with water and you get the fizzy head on it. If you put your finger in it, the head disappears faster than without a finger. Why is that?
And why are there 8 hot dogs in a package and oly 6 hot dog buns in a package? (rhetorical question BTW)
And why are there 8 hot dogs in a package and oly 6 hot dog buns in a package? (rhetorical question BTW)
The wonderful world of Dreams
I remember my dreams as if they just happened. I participated in a study in college with regards to controlling your dreams. The study was trying to prove that it could be done. And sure enough, it was a skill I mastered - somehow.
Anyhow, last nights dream still has me chuckling with disbelief. It makes me wonder what type of drugs I was on and if, by chance, my parents dropped me as a child.
The dream opens with me in a "dealership" of some type. But its not cars. Its random stuff that people are selling, but it looks and feels like a car dealership. I'm inquiring to the Sales guy about a giraffe. Yes, a giraffe. Why I think I need to purchase a giraffe is beyond me. But the conversation from the sales person turns to some guy - there was a mannerism about him that leads me to think it was the crush, but can't be sure - anyhow, he was telling me the pros and cons of purchasing a giraffe.
Like chapters in a book, it then switches to me standing in a hotel lobby waiting for someone. I'm telling this person, whom I don't know, that I'm waiting for my grandpa. And this person tells me I'm going to have a long wait so I should sit down and have a beer.
And then I wake.
So strange...I think I get the metaphor for waiting for my grandpa...maybe saying I'm going to have a long life and I won't be seeing him until many more years (all grandparents are deceased).
But the giraffe...I just don't get that one.
I also tend to walk in my sleep and can tell you stories of things I've done in my sleep. I've folded clothes (useful, but scary), and I've lit candles - all while asleep. But one dream that I've had that has stood out in my mind as one of "those" dreams, was a scary and frightening dream that made me almost kill my cat.
I was dreaming that someone was holding me at gun point. The gun is fired and I'm hit in the head. I can feel the warmth of the blood pouring down my neck, and I'm slowing fading away. Now, remember the first statement about being able to control your dreams. Well, I forced myself awake. And what should be going on, but my damn cat (aka Pookie) was laying by my head and his TAIL was wrapped around my face and neck...EXACTLY where the blood was pouring. Isn't that fascinating...? The fact that I felt warm blood and it was in fact a warm tail.
No I don't need counseling. Well, maybe no!
Happy Fried-day! No word from the "crush" to speak of. I think I may cut bait and go fishing elsewhere on this one.
Anyhow, last nights dream still has me chuckling with disbelief. It makes me wonder what type of drugs I was on and if, by chance, my parents dropped me as a child.
The dream opens with me in a "dealership" of some type. But its not cars. Its random stuff that people are selling, but it looks and feels like a car dealership. I'm inquiring to the Sales guy about a giraffe. Yes, a giraffe. Why I think I need to purchase a giraffe is beyond me. But the conversation from the sales person turns to some guy - there was a mannerism about him that leads me to think it was the crush, but can't be sure - anyhow, he was telling me the pros and cons of purchasing a giraffe.
Like chapters in a book, it then switches to me standing in a hotel lobby waiting for someone. I'm telling this person, whom I don't know, that I'm waiting for my grandpa. And this person tells me I'm going to have a long wait so I should sit down and have a beer.
And then I wake.
So strange...I think I get the metaphor for waiting for my grandpa...maybe saying I'm going to have a long life and I won't be seeing him until many more years (all grandparents are deceased).
But the giraffe...I just don't get that one.
I also tend to walk in my sleep and can tell you stories of things I've done in my sleep. I've folded clothes (useful, but scary), and I've lit candles - all while asleep. But one dream that I've had that has stood out in my mind as one of "those" dreams, was a scary and frightening dream that made me almost kill my cat.
I was dreaming that someone was holding me at gun point. The gun is fired and I'm hit in the head. I can feel the warmth of the blood pouring down my neck, and I'm slowing fading away. Now, remember the first statement about being able to control your dreams. Well, I forced myself awake. And what should be going on, but my damn cat (aka Pookie) was laying by my head and his TAIL was wrapped around my face and neck...EXACTLY where the blood was pouring. Isn't that fascinating...? The fact that I felt warm blood and it was in fact a warm tail.
No I don't need counseling. Well, maybe no!
Happy Fried-day! No word from the "crush" to speak of. I think I may cut bait and go fishing elsewhere on this one.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Ever have one of those days...
I would have written this sooner, but my internet connection and computer were freaking out, which just adds to my day.
It started at 7:12 AM this morning. I rolled over yawning thinking I had time to spare to lay around in bed. Saw the clock and though, "OH hell." I'm supposed to meet my carpool partner at 7:15. I'm fast in the morning, but not that fast. Grabbing the cell phone I dial my carpool partner. With groggy voice I tell her I just woke up. God bless her, but she'll wait 20 minutes while I get ready.
Yes, it only takes me, a girl, 20 minutes at the most to be out the door. I usually have what I'm going to wear ready and laying out. It really isn't being super organized, its laziness. I can then sleep longer in the morning because I don't have to ponder what to wear in the morning.
Hop in the shower, slipping and nearly killing myself to save myself from a fall. I'm quite sure falling wouldn't have hurt as much as the contortion my body went through trying to save myself. I reach for my shampoo...empty. Oh yah, I bought new shampoo yesterday and its sitting on the kitchen counter...ugh.
Out of the shower, I go to fill up the cats water dish. Drop it on the return trip and spill water everywhere...at least its just water. The "getting ready" routine progressed with issues, I was dropping everything because I was in a hurry. Lipstick ended up in the toilet....ick. Guess I have to throw that out.
I'm out the door and I'm off. I stop briefly to check to make sure I have matching shoes on...because considering the morning I've had it's possible to have two different shoes. I turn the ignition key and suddenly remember I had planned to get up early because I have almost no gas. A quick prayer for me to make it to the Park and Ride on fumes. I reach for my cell phone as I'm driving out of my apartment complex to call the carpool buddy...no cell. Dammit! Back to the apt, run into the house, slightly twist my ankle on a pebble (don't ask its the shoes). And BACK out the door. Another quick prayer about gas fumes and making the Park and Ride.
We get to work in short order, and my office door is lock. WTF? My office door has a lock? I had no idea. So I wait around for security to come and unlock the door...15 minutes later I flip on my computer and nothing. No internet connection to speak of. I check all the cables. I unplug them and plug them back in. Still nothing. So I leave the computer and head downstairs for my coveted cup of Joe. Surely that will help the morning from hell.
Now, you gotta know a two things for this to even sound like an ordeal. 1) MS has secured entrances and 2) I get coffee every day so they know me.
I walk up, Beth the barista, immediately starts my drink. As she's putting the last shot into my Grande Vanilla Americano with room, I realize I have no $$. Not only do I not have $$, but I don't have my card key to get back into the building. Excuse my french, but FUCK. Luckily, because I know Beth, she sends me on my way with a promise to pay later. Deal. Yet I'm still stuck in the cafeteria looking into the building.
I stand there for 10 minutes when finally who should waltz up but the Director of Marketing for our group. Surely they'll fire me now for "lounging" around. He smiles and laughs as I tell him about my day and my getting locked out and how that adds to it...
We hit the elevator, and I think to myself, well, I haven't broken a nail yet and I haven't lost my purse yet and I haven't spilled on me y... scratch that...just spilt on me.
BUT I can blame the day on the computer still not working. The phone rings, I begrudgingly answer it. It's a Speech Server customer frustrated and threatening to pull Speech Server unless they get some help. Ugh.
CALGON TAKE ME AWAY!
And just when you think I couldn't take any more, I log into Google and look up images to display in this blog to portray stress and hassle. And THIS is what I get. Ugh. Help me!
It started at 7:12 AM this morning. I rolled over yawning thinking I had time to spare to lay around in bed. Saw the clock and though, "OH hell." I'm supposed to meet my carpool partner at 7:15. I'm fast in the morning, but not that fast. Grabbing the cell phone I dial my carpool partner. With groggy voice I tell her I just woke up. God bless her, but she'll wait 20 minutes while I get ready.
Yes, it only takes me, a girl, 20 minutes at the most to be out the door. I usually have what I'm going to wear ready and laying out. It really isn't being super organized, its laziness. I can then sleep longer in the morning because I don't have to ponder what to wear in the morning.
Hop in the shower, slipping and nearly killing myself to save myself from a fall. I'm quite sure falling wouldn't have hurt as much as the contortion my body went through trying to save myself. I reach for my shampoo...empty. Oh yah, I bought new shampoo yesterday and its sitting on the kitchen counter...ugh.
Out of the shower, I go to fill up the cats water dish. Drop it on the return trip and spill water everywhere...at least its just water. The "getting ready" routine progressed with issues, I was dropping everything because I was in a hurry. Lipstick ended up in the toilet....ick. Guess I have to throw that out.
I'm out the door and I'm off. I stop briefly to check to make sure I have matching shoes on...because considering the morning I've had it's possible to have two different shoes. I turn the ignition key and suddenly remember I had planned to get up early because I have almost no gas. A quick prayer for me to make it to the Park and Ride on fumes. I reach for my cell phone as I'm driving out of my apartment complex to call the carpool buddy...no cell. Dammit! Back to the apt, run into the house, slightly twist my ankle on a pebble (don't ask its the shoes). And BACK out the door. Another quick prayer about gas fumes and making the Park and Ride.
We get to work in short order, and my office door is lock. WTF? My office door has a lock? I had no idea. So I wait around for security to come and unlock the door...15 minutes later I flip on my computer and nothing. No internet connection to speak of. I check all the cables. I unplug them and plug them back in. Still nothing. So I leave the computer and head downstairs for my coveted cup of Joe. Surely that will help the morning from hell.
Now, you gotta know a two things for this to even sound like an ordeal. 1) MS has secured entrances and 2) I get coffee every day so they know me.
I walk up, Beth the barista, immediately starts my drink. As she's putting the last shot into my Grande Vanilla Americano with room, I realize I have no $$. Not only do I not have $$, but I don't have my card key to get back into the building. Excuse my french, but FUCK. Luckily, because I know Beth, she sends me on my way with a promise to pay later. Deal. Yet I'm still stuck in the cafeteria looking into the building.
I stand there for 10 minutes when finally who should waltz up but the Director of Marketing for our group. Surely they'll fire me now for "lounging" around. He smiles and laughs as I tell him about my day and my getting locked out and how that adds to it...
We hit the elevator, and I think to myself, well, I haven't broken a nail yet and I haven't lost my purse yet and I haven't spilled on me y... scratch that...just spilt on me.
BUT I can blame the day on the computer still not working. The phone rings, I begrudgingly answer it. It's a Speech Server customer frustrated and threatening to pull Speech Server unless they get some help. Ugh.
CALGON TAKE ME AWAY!
And just when you think I couldn't take any more, I log into Google and look up images to display in this blog to portray stress and hassle. And THIS is what I get. Ugh. Help me!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
You know you're screwed when....
...you are saving a piece you've been working on for 4 weeks. And a dialog box appears and asks,
"A file already exists with that name, do you want to replace it?" And you happily hit "yes".
As you are clicking yes you remember that the version you had opened was the ORIGINAL version from 4 weeks ago...and is being saved over the FINAL version you've just got sign off on.
Dammit. 4 weeks of work, copied over in an instant.
It's going to be a long night. I could just cry. Ugh.
"A file already exists with that name, do you want to replace it?" And you happily hit "yes".
As you are clicking yes you remember that the version you had opened was the ORIGINAL version from 4 weeks ago...and is being saved over the FINAL version you've just got sign off on.
Dammit. 4 weeks of work, copied over in an instant.
It's going to be a long night. I could just cry. Ugh.
"Your Order has Shipped"....
I would say about 90% of the time the "service" we get from ordering online is less than adequate. If it even exists at all. Spending many of my "formative" years [read: my twenties] doing customer service, I find I have a very high standard of customer service. Probably higher than I should, as I'm increasing disappointed at "service" today. When I get bad service, depending on the level - I get bitchy and may ultimately write a letter to complain (it has to be EXTREMELY bad to get a letter). Likewise, when I get excellent customer service I'll write a letter. I longed for those letters while supporting Latin American on the phone line for a large software company in Redmond...(aka Microsoft). Just one letter that said "Thank You." (or gracias in my case) could make your day/week/month/year.
I order a lot online. Its quick. Its easy...sometimes too easy. And every time you get the same "Thank you for your order" email, that's usually followed by the "Your order has been shipped" email.
Where am I going with this, you ask? It's a revolution. It's a changing of the times in online customer service responses. I got the FUNNIEST, most original "your order has been shipped email" today. And I thought I'd share it with y'all.
Yesterday, I ordered two CDs from a company called CD Baby. They sell more independent artists [no I wasn't ordering Dudley Manlove - I have all those already]. But my taste in music is changing. It has to, I'm bored with what I listen to now. So I opted to order two CDs from a band I've seen. Hence the "your order has been shipped".
Let's not even mention the fact that I placed the order YESTERDAY and its already shipping. WAHOO! But here's their "your order has been shipped" email. Enjoy!
Jennifer -
Thanks for your order with CD Baby!
Your CDs have been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.
A team of 50 employees inspected your CDs and polished them to make sure they were in the best possible condition before mailing.
Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CDs into the finest gold-lined box that money can buy.
We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of Portland waved 'Bon Voyage!' to your package, on its way to you, in our private CD Baby jet on this day, Monday, April 3rd.
I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did. Your picture is on our wall as "Customer of the Year". We're all exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!
Thank you once again,
Derek Sivers, president,
CD Baby
the little CD store with the best new independent musichttp://cdbaby.com
I order a lot online. Its quick. Its easy...sometimes too easy. And every time you get the same "Thank you for your order" email, that's usually followed by the "Your order has been shipped" email.
Where am I going with this, you ask? It's a revolution. It's a changing of the times in online customer service responses. I got the FUNNIEST, most original "your order has been shipped email" today. And I thought I'd share it with y'all.
Yesterday, I ordered two CDs from a company called CD Baby. They sell more independent artists [no I wasn't ordering Dudley Manlove - I have all those already]. But my taste in music is changing. It has to, I'm bored with what I listen to now. So I opted to order two CDs from a band I've seen. Hence the "your order has been shipped".
Let's not even mention the fact that I placed the order YESTERDAY and its already shipping. WAHOO! But here's their "your order has been shipped" email. Enjoy!
Jennifer -
Thanks for your order with CD Baby!
Your CDs have been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.
A team of 50 employees inspected your CDs and polished them to make sure they were in the best possible condition before mailing.
Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CDs into the finest gold-lined box that money can buy.
We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of Portland waved 'Bon Voyage!' to your package, on its way to you, in our private CD Baby jet on this day, Monday, April 3rd.
I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did. Your picture is on our wall as "Customer of the Year". We're all exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!
Thank you once again,
Derek Sivers, president,
CD Baby
the little CD store with the best new independent musichttp://cdbaby.com
Monday, April 03, 2006
iPod speakers for sale...cheap
I'm a dork. I'm a complete dork. I think of myself as a techy sorta girl. A girl who can, by process of elimination, figure things out. A button pusher if you will (just ask Sherrie about every time I get into her car with her). But I have finally found something that baffles me. It's like a puzzle that I just can't make the pieces fit and its driving me mad.I bought portable speakers for my iPod through Overstock.com (if you've never purchased from overstock.com, you really gotta. They have great deals, but it can be addicting). The speakers finally came on Friday. I opened them and was so excited to pose my iPod on them and click on. Mike and Sherrie were coming to dinner to test this week's newest recipe...[OMG was it good - Country Captain Chicken] and I thought it a great way to have music in the same room we'd be in. As I opened them, Mike standing by amused I'm sure, our first realization was it would take batteries. Great. No batteries.
So Sunday, in my post drinking haze, I swung into to the local Bartels on the way home from HotWire to purchase batteries. AAA batteries in hand, I head home. I put the batteries in correctly, then flip the switch. A light comes on to indicate that yes, in fact, they were on. But as I'm flipping the switch it dawns on me, "How exactly is the music supposed to transmit through the speakers?" The iPod isn't connected to the speakers in any way. Its not magic, I know that. So I sat and staired at the speakers - literally stared. Trying my darndest (if that's a word?) to focus and figure this out. Nothing. I got nothing.
Even today I can't, for the life of me, figure this out. I know there should be some type of AC adaptor for it now (thanks to additional research that I should have done BEFORE I bought them). But even still, HOW DOES THE MUSIC TRANSFER? I'm at a loss. I may have to admit defeat and send them back. If you know, please spare me the torture and leave a comment. Or worse case, know anyone who wants to buy a pair of speakers?
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Post Dudley/Drinking -Day of losing an hour blog
Dudley last night was fantastic. But that goes without saying, Megan and I met for dinner at a very fun restaurant in Ballard called Madam K's. Now, Madam K's used to be a brothel, so the story goes. So the atmosphere is energetic and fun, and a bit sexual...in a good way. It would be a great first date place. Their food was outstanding - garlickly and delish. If you're ever in Seattle, I recommend their Marconi and Cheese...
Today, however, is the fuzzy day that typifies a Sunday after Dudley and drinking. I woke this morning, not really sure what time it was since I only changed one clock last night. But alas, I headed to my Sunday haven, HotWire Cafe. Aside from their ability to whip up a frothy yummy mocha, its a quiet simple atmosphere in which I am finding it nice to just hang out.
Here I sit at HotWire, surrounded by the aroma of strong, bold coffee. There are more people in here today (did I mention its a wireless cafe?). All characters in my Sunday morning play. Let me set the scene.
HotWire is an eclectic cafe that speaks Seattle, I think. Its warm, almost grungy atmosphere is home to many folks looking for that delicious coffee treat to get their day going.
The people. A young couple sit in the corner holding hands and seemingly happy. The girl giggles at a joke/story the young man just finished. Her giggle is annoying. Almost nails on the chalk board esk. Opposite them is a slightly older girl/woman reading a text book with a look of complete confusion on her face. She brushes her unruly hair away from her face and sighs. Several men in the joint. All connected with their computers (I fit in today with my laptop and the tippy tap of typing, little do they know I'm typing about them). Most of these men appear to be glaring at their computers with an almost empty expression. Bored really. The mood is light as I sit here with my Orange Kiss Mocha (my new favorite) and organic turkey sandwich (post drinking viddles of the best kind). The newspaper I have been reading is tossed aside in a scatted mess of yesterday's news. Sad, depressing, non worthy accounts of the going on's of Seattle yesterday.
I have next to me my "book" - the book that's been my quiet companion to my trips to HW. It’s the book that keeps me coming back to my sanctuary. I feel this overwhelming sense of solitude as I sit and read. I'm surrounded by many, but feel quiet, content, alone, and unassuming.
The barrista with his flamed tattooed arm is a typical Seattle looking gent. He wears a hat, dark rimmed, bold glasses. A haphazardly trimmed beard around his sharp, yet almost round, jaw. Dark, coffee colored eyes, two silver hoop earrings adorning his ears. He is the master. The barista. The reason people come here. His ability to expertly froth the milk and pull the shot and together delivers them into a glorious goodness of coffee. His mastery is more than pulling shots and frothing milk. No, he's an artist. Atop my mocha is an art piece, a milk designed leaf that begs you to not drink and destroy the art.
In bliss of my surroundings, I sit and watch. With each opening of the door I am greeted with an expectation as to who the next unknowing character of my Sunday chapter will be. A sporty couple waltz in, eyeing the place for their "spot". A grey haired man who seems more out of place than in place here. A hippy woman saunters in with bells on her sleeves, happily announcing her presence. A young mother, looking tired and frustrated with her terror at her side, orders to go - I secretly thank god for that. As I watch I am struck with how all these people personify Seattle. They are rugged out doorsy types, intellectual types, geeky types, and just casual coffee loving types.
Part of the aromatic atmosphere is the music. Its played loudly, but not so loud you can't think. Though with a slight hang over, its a bit too loud. Its an exciting, odd blend of blue grass and Celtic. Hard to explain really, but I find myself enjoying it. Certainly not something you'd hear on the top 20 radio stations. No, this music fits this place. A bit familiar, but a bit odd.
And so I sit, surrounded by the sound of the coffee grinder, the music, and the chatter...ah...this is heaven. My weekly ritual. My Sunday afternoon, weekly visit to an unexpected sanctuary.
Today, however, is the fuzzy day that typifies a Sunday after Dudley and drinking. I woke this morning, not really sure what time it was since I only changed one clock last night. But alas, I headed to my Sunday haven, HotWire Cafe. Aside from their ability to whip up a frothy yummy mocha, its a quiet simple atmosphere in which I am finding it nice to just hang out.
Here I sit at HotWire, surrounded by the aroma of strong, bold coffee. There are more people in here today (did I mention its a wireless cafe?). All characters in my Sunday morning play. Let me set the scene.HotWire is an eclectic cafe that speaks Seattle, I think. Its warm, almost grungy atmosphere is home to many folks looking for that delicious coffee treat to get their day going.
The people. A young couple sit in the corner holding hands and seemingly happy. The girl giggles at a joke/story the young man just finished. Her giggle is annoying. Almost nails on the chalk board esk. Opposite them is a slightly older girl/woman reading a text book with a look of complete confusion on her face. She brushes her unruly hair away from her face and sighs. Several men in the joint. All connected with their computers (I fit in today with my laptop and the tippy tap of typing, little do they know I'm typing about them). Most of these men appear to be glaring at their computers with an almost empty expression. Bored really. The mood is light as I sit here with my Orange Kiss Mocha (my new favorite) and organic turkey sandwich (post drinking viddles of the best kind). The newspaper I have been reading is tossed aside in a scatted mess of yesterday's news. Sad, depressing, non worthy accounts of the going on's of Seattle yesterday.
I have next to me my "book" - the book that's been my quiet companion to my trips to HW. It’s the book that keeps me coming back to my sanctuary. I feel this overwhelming sense of solitude as I sit and read. I'm surrounded by many, but feel quiet, content, alone, and unassuming.
The barrista with his flamed tattooed arm is a typical Seattle looking gent. He wears a hat, dark rimmed, bold glasses. A haphazardly trimmed beard around his sharp, yet almost round, jaw. Dark, coffee colored eyes, two silver hoop earrings adorning his ears. He is the master. The barista. The reason people come here. His ability to expertly froth the milk and pull the shot and together delivers them into a glorious goodness of coffee. His mastery is more than pulling shots and frothing milk. No, he's an artist. Atop my mocha is an art piece, a milk designed leaf that begs you to not drink and destroy the art.
In bliss of my surroundings, I sit and watch. With each opening of the door I am greeted with an expectation as to who the next unknowing character of my Sunday chapter will be. A sporty couple waltz in, eyeing the place for their "spot". A grey haired man who seems more out of place than in place here. A hippy woman saunters in with bells on her sleeves, happily announcing her presence. A young mother, looking tired and frustrated with her terror at her side, orders to go - I secretly thank god for that. As I watch I am struck with how all these people personify Seattle. They are rugged out doorsy types, intellectual types, geeky types, and just casual coffee loving types.
Part of the aromatic atmosphere is the music. Its played loudly, but not so loud you can't think. Though with a slight hang over, its a bit too loud. Its an exciting, odd blend of blue grass and Celtic. Hard to explain really, but I find myself enjoying it. Certainly not something you'd hear on the top 20 radio stations. No, this music fits this place. A bit familiar, but a bit odd.
And so I sit, surrounded by the sound of the coffee grinder, the music, and the chatter...ah...this is heaven. My weekly ritual. My Sunday afternoon, weekly visit to an unexpected sanctuary.