There's something about the midnight hour and beyond which is made for rearranging furniture. It seems like my To-Do list is filled with things that need to get done, and is interrupted occasionally by bursts of late night spontaneous combustion. Where does life fall on your Things To Do list?
Last night I came home about 10:30pm with the intention of going to bed which I did.....eventually. But not before 5am. Around midnight I decided to put together the bookcase which has been occupying the middle of my living room since the middle of September - obviously a high priority project that couldn't wait any longer. God only knows why.
It was a mostly quiet endeavor that went fairly smoothly. The rhythm and excitement of watching it come together overshadowed the hour, making me forget it was the middle of the night. That is, until I was about 40 nails in to a 50 nail project of putting the back on it, and it occurred to me that *POUNDPOUNDPOUNDPOUNDPOUND* is probably NOT what my neighbor wanted to hear at 1am. But as I only had 10 more nails to go, I said to hell with it, and finished the job.
Of course, with a new six foot tall, five shelf, Harvest Cherry bookcase birthed into existence, I couldn't simply lay down and go to sleep, now could I??? Of course not. Eight boxes, and four hours later, I had unearthed, unloaded, unpacked and uncovered enough books to fill this bookcase and another one. (Except....I don't *have* another one. Let me put that on my to-do list) Iris Johansen, Dorothy Gilman, Agathie Christie, Arturo Perez-Reverte, Clive Cussler, Dick Francis, JK Rowling all rose up to greet me. Books in French goes over there. Journals, both virgin and experienced, went into the closet. Racy stuff stays in the bedroom, but let's not put the unread books on a low shelf or they shall remain unread.
Why do I have two copies of HP and the Half-Blood Prince? In hardback? I found two of my three copies of The Golden Hawk by Frank Yerby. What's hiding behind my computer desk - oh THERE are the books I bought at the Friends of Seattle sale. Tucked into a black file were books I brought with me from Florida. Little boxes dated 11/2005 remind me how much of my reading tastes I shared with my father. Seeing my books finally come into the light is like finally catching my breath after a hard run. The words soothe my nerves even from behind their jagged, worn covers. I know they are there, and for now, that's enough. I need that, especially now.
I am at a cross-roads of sorts right now. I have been looking for a roommate for a number of months now, with no success. The few people I've had respond to me were unsuitable for a variety of reasons, some scary, others just didn't fit. Even the ones I met decided against me/my place for their own reasons. Financially I'm in a downward spiral. I cannot afford to continue living the way I'm living - SOMETHING has got to change in the next 4-6 months or I will be in dire straights.
Since the universe has not seen fit to send a suitable roommate my way, I need to look at other options. I recently was promoted, which increased my income.....but not enough to compensate for the negative cash flow I have going on. So, what are my choices from here?
Influxes of cash: Bonuses, a 2nd job, tax returns. These would all be good, but all would be a temporary band aid on the problem. I've done the 60 hour weeks before, and it was hell. I've just been promoted 2 months ago, so another promotion is not likely in the next 4-6 months. A roommate would be better as it would be a continuous source of money which would not require a heavy commitment of time on my part.
Reducing my expenses: This is the area I'm looking at now. My main issue is that the gap is big......about $1000 a month, which I'm currently supplementing out of savings. So again, small measures will help, but reducing my grocery bill by $50 is really nothing compared to the issue at hand.
I think where this is leading me is to refinancing my home and cashing out some of my equity to pay off debts. That is really the only option that is going to have a significant enough effect on my income/outgo to make a difference, other than a roommate. I really did NOT want to do this, as I would like to sell my home in a year and a half or two years and don't want to be sucking equity out of my home prior to doing so. But neither do I want to foreclose or sell prematurely (and pay Capital Gains).
I have a nice place. It's freshly painted, brand new carpet. The room available is big - eleven by thirteen - so I find it really odd that no one wants to move in. It's really quite charming here, especially now. As summer slipped past, the leaves are changing and what little warmth we had has faded into my favorite season. I love the smells of Autumn - the winds that send the birds away, burning leaves and the warmth & spice of harvest time. The cool crisp days bite back a little like a Granny Smith Apple, and I'm torn still about whether or not to fully occupy my home. Do I take over the 2nd bedroom and commit to the path of refinancing, or do I keep it reserved for someone interesting to come into my life? Decisions, decisions.
I've had a number of great roommates in the past, and have maintained friendships with quite a few. One married what became my best friend. Another is still a close friend over a decade later, whom I see weekly at pool league. A third still keeps in touch, and helps me practice my French. Still another texts me intermittently with updates on her life.
So yes, while there is a strong financial incentive, a roommate for me is more than just business. It has brought some interesting people and experiences into my life, and I love that. My loan officer isn't going to poach a fish in the dishwasher or teach me how to play pool. I tend to be a loner and a homebody, so it also provides human interaction within the walls of my sanctuary.
One big obstacle to refinancing is the paperwork involved. I have been living in limbo for two years, with financial papers drifting into whatever corner became most convenient. I have a filing cabinet now, and have been working on getting things organized, but as of now - they are still a mess. I still have two tax returns that need to be filed, but the paperwork is, uhm, somewhere. Or rather, everywhere. I'm missing documents, and have several areas of question as well on how to handle certain things. They both involve refunds, so penalties aren't the issue - it's just gathering it all together and getting it done. THAT is easier said than done.
Many of the steps towards that goal are items on my To-Do list, and many have gotten done.....getting a filing cabinet, buying rails, finding files, gathering unread mail. Sometimes I feel as if my To-Do list is never ending, but I am making progress, slowly but surely.
I know I could do both refi & get a roommate, and perhaps that is the lesson here....we'll see. For now, I am trying to do the little things that I can do to prepare - filing, sorting paperwork, unpacking boxes and clearing space to breathe....and leaving the 2nd bedroom available for now.
Getting the bookcase together may seem counter-productive, but clearing eight boxes of books out of my bedroom frees up mental energy as well as space. I try to remember that when I wake up at 3am with an urgent desire to rearrange furniture. I don't always understand WHY it needs to be done at that hour, but I'm sure it won't be the last.
I'm a night owl by nature, and I love the strength and solitude that comes with the midnight hour and beyond. The disturbances of the daylight hours are silenced by laws and by nature - solicitors are home in bed, and acquaintances think twice before coming to call. These hours are reserved for more important things in life - a time for sleep, for love and romance, for reading and quiet conversations, and taking care of things that need to get done.
As always, I look forward to the Midnight Hour and beyond....but for tonight, I hope all it brings me is sleep. The furniture, I hope, can wait until tomorrow.
--BT
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Newport News
What a summer this has been. So many changes in a single season.
I put over 750 miles on my bike over Labor Day weekend - double the amount of miles I had put on there since JUNE when I bought the bike My boyfriend says I'm a natural long-distance rider, and he thinks I could out ride him. We were originally going to leave that Friday night, but things ran late, it was raining, I wasn't feeling confident on the bike (in the rain, on grooved pavement, at night, after being up 16 hours already). Lot of good reasons for getting a good night's sleep, and heading off in the morning.
About 10am, we finally got on our way - from Seattle first to Aberdeen, and then straight down 101 to Newport, Oregon. The subsequent trip on paper was supposed to take about 8 hours......but we added in some unexpected detours, long stops to warm my hands, dinner here, tank of gas there, the occasional chat with the local police department, and nineteen hours later we arrived at our hotel. Yes - that's 5am. The next day I was fine - no soreness at all. (One secret I learned - take some Ibuprofen before we ride, and it helps to keep the muscles relaxed while riding).
My boyfriend had installed headsets in our helmets so we could talk to each other, and listen to our Ipods while we rode. Made for a very pleasant ride - at least as long as the batteries held out. Crossing into Oregon, we rode over the longest bridge I've seen in a long time - maybe 7 miles long? It was awesome.
Driving down a fifty mile stretch of backwoods country highway at night without passing an open restaurant or gas station was a little unnerving....especially since I get about 100 miles to a tank of gas. Now, mind you - I'm only putting in 1.5 to 2 gallons at a time, so that's quite a bargain. But still - when the towns I've heard of are locked up tight, I'm not holding my breath for the NEXT wide spot in the road.
Around four in the morning, we finally got pointed in the direction of a gas station by a sheriff who saw us pulled over. We got gas, and hot chocolate, and pulled out of the station to continue down to Newport, when the flashing lights went off behind us. Did you turn left, right and left just a minute ago? What? No - we came straight out of the gas station and turned left. Apparently we angled across a one-way street, and it was enough of an excuse for the local gendarmes to check us out.
Fortunately we both have motorcycle endorsements and insurance, which are required in the state of Oregon, and after confirming (four or five times) that we had NOT been drinking, we were on our merry way again.
Our hotel was a stone's throw from the ocean, and we spent Sunday afternoon wandering around the little seaside village, visiting lighthouses, and other landmarks in the area. I got up about 9:30am long enough to grab some breakfast, and head back to bed. That evening, we stopped in a lovely little restaurant for dinner - very romantic, and the owner actually stayed open an extra hour to accommodate us. In fact, she was encouraging us to stay right up until the end. She said she lived about 40 miles south of that town, and enjoyed being in the area.
The fog rolled in Monday morning, but cleared as we headed away from the coast. We finally left around 2pm, again expecting about a six hour ride home (up I-5 - so mostly freeway). It was then we took one of the most delightful wrong turns of our trip......the directions SAID turn right at 34, which we did....but they meant the other 34. We passed through one little stretch of road perhaps two miles long that had at least ten hairpin turns. And then we just *had* to turn around and go back through it. What a shame ;)
There were a few things that were a little unnerving. As we hit Centralia, the rain storms started to pour. We have waterproof gear, but I haven't ridden in the rain much, certainly not on the freeway, at night, passing semi's, through construction, and having been up all day. Funny...aren't these the exact conditions I didn't want to ride in two days ago?
At one point, my helmet fogged up, and I was having trouble raising my visor to clear it. I'm in the middle of a construction zone, the police have a lane blocked off with flares, and RIGHT as I'm pulling off to the shoulder, the headset dies - so I'm unable to tell my beau what's going on. It took us about 30 minutes of backtracking and waiting to catch up with each other again - we finally got home about 2:30am.....and I had to be at work by 8:30am.
I was one tired puppy, but it was worth it. Oh - and then I stopped by my bank to pull out some cash, and discovered that my "unusual activity" over the weekend had flagged my account as potential fraud so they shut my debit card off. After a rather lengthy discussion with the fraud department, who advised me that I should have told them I'd be traveling, they reactivated it.
I calmly explained to them that in the last year I had been to Tampa, Miami, Biloxi, Pensacola, Dallas, Houston, Omaha, and southern California, and they hadn't ONCE been concerned. But I take a motorcycle trip to OREGON and suddenly I'm red-flagged? Is it really that unusual for someone in Seattle to go to Oregon??? If someone really wants fifty bucks worth of gas, two dollars at a time, they can HAVE it. I would MUCH prefer that they question the FIVE HUNDRED DOLLAR cash withdrawals at the CASINO than the $50 worth of gas I bought over Labor Day.
*shakinghead* Bureaucrats.
All in all though - it was a great trip.
--BT
I put over 750 miles on my bike over Labor Day weekend - double the amount of miles I had put on there since JUNE when I bought the bike My boyfriend says I'm a natural long-distance rider, and he thinks I could out ride him. We were originally going to leave that Friday night, but things ran late, it was raining, I wasn't feeling confident on the bike (in the rain, on grooved pavement, at night, after being up 16 hours already). Lot of good reasons for getting a good night's sleep, and heading off in the morning.
About 10am, we finally got on our way - from Seattle first to Aberdeen, and then straight down 101 to Newport, Oregon. The subsequent trip on paper was supposed to take about 8 hours......but we added in some unexpected detours, long stops to warm my hands, dinner here, tank of gas there, the occasional chat with the local police department, and nineteen hours later we arrived at our hotel. Yes - that's 5am. The next day I was fine - no soreness at all. (One secret I learned - take some Ibuprofen before we ride, and it helps to keep the muscles relaxed while riding).
My boyfriend had installed headsets in our helmets so we could talk to each other, and listen to our Ipods while we rode. Made for a very pleasant ride - at least as long as the batteries held out. Crossing into Oregon, we rode over the longest bridge I've seen in a long time - maybe 7 miles long? It was awesome.
Driving down a fifty mile stretch of backwoods country highway at night without passing an open restaurant or gas station was a little unnerving....especially since I get about 100 miles to a tank of gas. Now, mind you - I'm only putting in 1.5 to 2 gallons at a time, so that's quite a bargain. But still - when the towns I've heard of are locked up tight, I'm not holding my breath for the NEXT wide spot in the road.
Around four in the morning, we finally got pointed in the direction of a gas station by a sheriff who saw us pulled over. We got gas, and hot chocolate, and pulled out of the station to continue down to Newport, when the flashing lights went off behind us. Did you turn left, right and left just a minute ago? What? No - we came straight out of the gas station and turned left. Apparently we angled across a one-way street, and it was enough of an excuse for the local gendarmes to check us out.
Fortunately we both have motorcycle endorsements and insurance, which are required in the state of Oregon, and after confirming (four or five times) that we had NOT been drinking, we were on our merry way again.
Our hotel was a stone's throw from the ocean, and we spent Sunday afternoon wandering around the little seaside village, visiting lighthouses, and other landmarks in the area. I got up about 9:30am long enough to grab some breakfast, and head back to bed. That evening, we stopped in a lovely little restaurant for dinner - very romantic, and the owner actually stayed open an extra hour to accommodate us. In fact, she was encouraging us to stay right up until the end. She said she lived about 40 miles south of that town, and enjoyed being in the area.
The fog rolled in Monday morning, but cleared as we headed away from the coast. We finally left around 2pm, again expecting about a six hour ride home (up I-5 - so mostly freeway). It was then we took one of the most delightful wrong turns of our trip......the directions SAID turn right at 34, which we did....but they meant the other 34. We passed through one little stretch of road perhaps two miles long that had at least ten hairpin turns. And then we just *had* to turn around and go back through it. What a shame ;)
There were a few things that were a little unnerving. As we hit Centralia, the rain storms started to pour. We have waterproof gear, but I haven't ridden in the rain much, certainly not on the freeway, at night, passing semi's, through construction, and having been up all day. Funny...aren't these the exact conditions I didn't want to ride in two days ago?
At one point, my helmet fogged up, and I was having trouble raising my visor to clear it. I'm in the middle of a construction zone, the police have a lane blocked off with flares, and RIGHT as I'm pulling off to the shoulder, the headset dies - so I'm unable to tell my beau what's going on. It took us about 30 minutes of backtracking and waiting to catch up with each other again - we finally got home about 2:30am.....and I had to be at work by 8:30am.
I was one tired puppy, but it was worth it. Oh - and then I stopped by my bank to pull out some cash, and discovered that my "unusual activity" over the weekend had flagged my account as potential fraud so they shut my debit card off. After a rather lengthy discussion with the fraud department, who advised me that I should have told them I'd be traveling, they reactivated it.
I calmly explained to them that in the last year I had been to Tampa, Miami, Biloxi, Pensacola, Dallas, Houston, Omaha, and southern California, and they hadn't ONCE been concerned. But I take a motorcycle trip to OREGON and suddenly I'm red-flagged? Is it really that unusual for someone in Seattle to go to Oregon??? If someone really wants fifty bucks worth of gas, two dollars at a time, they can HAVE it. I would MUCH prefer that they question the FIVE HUNDRED DOLLAR cash withdrawals at the CASINO than the $50 worth of gas I bought over Labor Day.
*shakinghead* Bureaucrats.
All in all though - it was a great trip.
--BT
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Out Of The Box-Worthy
How many boxes make up a life? Looking around my dining room, I see bits and pieces of a life I used to have. Wine Glasses & Santa S&P (Salt & Pepper Shakers) declares one box. Palm Pilot, Music Box, Decorate Plates says another. A third is labelled "Misc Stuff I can't bare to part with". Pieces of my childhood reside in there. Graphic Novels - Sandman, LeStat, et al rests on top of it.
There are at least two that are called "Misc from bedroom floor", and two more threatening "To Be Filed 2002". I'm going to need a filing cabinet before I dare break the seal on those. They are safely ensconced in packing tape & cardboard right now, so I don't have to deal with them. "Photos and photo albums rest by a dresser. Pictures and craft items from basket in small bedroom" and "Embroidery from the computer room" surround it. Paintings and mirrors hide in the corner, along with my great grandparents wedding certificate (a beautiful piece about 18" x 25", from 1902).
I kind of live here now. I have magnets on my refrigerator, TP in the bathroom, wine in the cupboard, and books on the shelves. I've bought a few more things which will make this feel much more livable - another shelving unit for the bathroom for towels, storage containers for cat food & shelves for the kitchen cupboards to give me more usable space. I've even slept here a few times, although the bed has yet to arrive.
It was supposed to be delivered Saturday, but the manufacturer shipped the wrong size. I have an antique mahogany bed frame which requires a full - it used to be the standard, now it's an odd size. Some mattresses don't even come in Full anymore. They wanted to "upgrade" me for free to a Queen, complete with a free Maple bed frame. I hated to explain that my bedroom set is a family heirloom, an antique, part of a four piece matching set, and worth at least eight grand. I don't think they really want to give me an upgrade to that. It'll be another two weeks for the Full, and they're giving me a discount instead. I'll take it.
As I settle into my home, I'm settling into my relationship as well. We have the oddest little things in common, which I love. We went camping recently, and he asked me how I like my marshmallows. I'm not really a lightly toasted kinda girl.....I prefer mine black and flaming. So does he. :) We both have spent over a year in a body cast. We share metal allergies. We were both raised in a rather different environment, away from television, and the popular media. We've both gone a long time between relationships. We both come from families where our parents had a significant age difference, the same as he and I, and our parents are/were both happily married.
We have our differences, of course. I understand *that* he loves mountain climbing, yet don't understand why. The more he describes it (with a cheerful smile and the warm glow of enthusiasm), the less I understand the appeal. There's a condition called HAPE - High Altitude Pulmonary something, where people's lungs explode like Rice Krispies - Snap, Crackle & Pop. It has something to do with the change in pressure, and you can literally hear pieces of their lungs bursting. And in the same breath where he is describing this, he'll talk about his dream of climbing Denali......a mountain high enough where they do research on HAPE because they are guaranteed a few cases a year of volunteer victims to study. I shake my head quietly, yet it is partially this kind of passion that is why I love this man.
It's not often a man can say he didn't notice I was short....I'm only five foot tall, yet the strength & magnitude of my personality were such that I actually had to point out to him that I'm little. He likes my laugh, my moxie, and my minor obsession with nail polish. In fact, my laugh was the first thing he noticed about me. We're really a good match, and have already talked about where we're headed and what we want out of life, and our relationship.
It's hard to put a label on that, yet I feel like we're unpacking the relationship the same way I'm unpacking boxes.....the more it opens up, the more it expands. His mother really likes me, and he's warned her to expect me to be around a long time. We talked about this the other night, and we're both pretty comfortable that we're likely headed towards marriage.
It seems funny to say that after only two months of dating, and yet - it's not a desperate, urgent feeling. It's just as if I've read the ending of the story, and am now going back through the opening chapters to see how we got there.
--BT
There are at least two that are called "Misc from bedroom floor", and two more threatening "To Be Filed 2002". I'm going to need a filing cabinet before I dare break the seal on those. They are safely ensconced in packing tape & cardboard right now, so I don't have to deal with them. "Photos and photo albums rest by a dresser. Pictures and craft items from basket in small bedroom" and "Embroidery from the computer room" surround it. Paintings and mirrors hide in the corner, along with my great grandparents wedding certificate (a beautiful piece about 18" x 25", from 1902).
I kind of live here now. I have magnets on my refrigerator, TP in the bathroom, wine in the cupboard, and books on the shelves. I've bought a few more things which will make this feel much more livable - another shelving unit for the bathroom for towels, storage containers for cat food & shelves for the kitchen cupboards to give me more usable space. I've even slept here a few times, although the bed has yet to arrive.
It was supposed to be delivered Saturday, but the manufacturer shipped the wrong size. I have an antique mahogany bed frame which requires a full - it used to be the standard, now it's an odd size. Some mattresses don't even come in Full anymore. They wanted to "upgrade" me for free to a Queen, complete with a free Maple bed frame. I hated to explain that my bedroom set is a family heirloom, an antique, part of a four piece matching set, and worth at least eight grand. I don't think they really want to give me an upgrade to that. It'll be another two weeks for the Full, and they're giving me a discount instead. I'll take it.
As I settle into my home, I'm settling into my relationship as well. We have the oddest little things in common, which I love. We went camping recently, and he asked me how I like my marshmallows. I'm not really a lightly toasted kinda girl.....I prefer mine black and flaming. So does he. :) We both have spent over a year in a body cast. We share metal allergies. We were both raised in a rather different environment, away from television, and the popular media. We've both gone a long time between relationships. We both come from families where our parents had a significant age difference, the same as he and I, and our parents are/were both happily married.
We have our differences, of course. I understand *that* he loves mountain climbing, yet don't understand why. The more he describes it (with a cheerful smile and the warm glow of enthusiasm), the less I understand the appeal. There's a condition called HAPE - High Altitude Pulmonary something, where people's lungs explode like Rice Krispies - Snap, Crackle & Pop. It has something to do with the change in pressure, and you can literally hear pieces of their lungs bursting. And in the same breath where he is describing this, he'll talk about his dream of climbing Denali......a mountain high enough where they do research on HAPE because they are guaranteed a few cases a year of volunteer victims to study. I shake my head quietly, yet it is partially this kind of passion that is why I love this man.
It's not often a man can say he didn't notice I was short....I'm only five foot tall, yet the strength & magnitude of my personality were such that I actually had to point out to him that I'm little. He likes my laugh, my moxie, and my minor obsession with nail polish. In fact, my laugh was the first thing he noticed about me. We're really a good match, and have already talked about where we're headed and what we want out of life, and our relationship.
It's hard to put a label on that, yet I feel like we're unpacking the relationship the same way I'm unpacking boxes.....the more it opens up, the more it expands. His mother really likes me, and he's warned her to expect me to be around a long time. We talked about this the other night, and we're both pretty comfortable that we're likely headed towards marriage.
It seems funny to say that after only two months of dating, and yet - it's not a desperate, urgent feeling. It's just as if I've read the ending of the story, and am now going back through the opening chapters to see how we got there.
--BT
Thursday, July 19, 2007
My Home Away From Home
Daydreams of leisure and relaxation seduce me while I add to my to-do list.
I stopped by my place today, and took care of a few small things - changed the light bulb out front, put the cabinet together that goes behind/over the toilet, ripped the tags off a bath mat & throw rug. I put wine & ketchup in the fridge, and washed a few counter tops down. I found a lamp (but no shade), and put a bulb in it. I now have light in my bedroom. I cannot yet eat or shower there, still need a mattress, went shopping for a filing cabinet & bookcase (but came home with nothing). The other day, I took the plastic wrap off some of the furniture, dwelling on the beauty that has been hidden in storage for well over a year.
It is my home......yet I don't live there. Yet.
As I wander around, I see things I mean to take care of - some of which I've been meaning to take care of for nigh on seven years. The light in the kitchen is cracked, and ugly. There's a problem with the seal around the bathtub, and I don't know if it involves just grout & elbow grease or licensed, bonded professionals who make 5x what I do. There's a soft spot nearby that will probably involve ripping flooring up & hopefully not needing to replace sub flooring. The rickety creak just *sounds* expensive, which means it will probably have to wait.
I used to have towel racks in the bathroom, and a water purifier on the kitchen sink. I don't know where they disappeared to, or who exactly was responsible for the disappearance. Little mysteries await me at every turn. "Didn't there used to be.....", I wonder. The cupboards are different than what I remember, but they must be the same. I never did put curtains up the first time. I believe I shall rectify that oversight this time.
My to-do list is growing by the day - I need to find the piano bench. It must be in storage. And a tuner - it doesn't sound as good as it did when I was a child.....I'm guessing my father hadn't had it tuned since before my mother became ill, and that's pushing 15-20 years. Because of that, I'll probably have to have 4-5 tunings before it's back to normal. Pianos are delicate instruments, and you can't just force them back into shape. It's like going to a chiropractor - they do small adjustments so as not to overstress you with change. That's what I need - a chiropractor for the piano. Does my insurance cover that??
A microwave would be useful. I need a throw-rug for the entry way. And dining room chairs. I inherited chairs, but they are worn out, in need of repair - repairs I once priced out at $1800. Ouch. I have better ways to spend that kind of money. A wine cabinet. Book case. Lateral File. A television set? Perhaps. I have a DVD player I discovered....it was in a dresser drawer, along with a feather pillow and a Mariner Moose. Very strange - I thought I gave all my electronics away.
As I search for things I need, I am reminded of the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally.....not the Deli "I'll have what she's having" one, but early on when Meg Ryan orders pie as they travel to New York.
"Sally: I'd like the chef salad please with oil and vinegar on the side, and the apple pie a la mode.
Waitress: Chef and apple a la mode.
Sally: But I'd like the pie heated, and I don't want the ice cream on top. I want it on the side, and I'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it. If not, then no ice cream, just whipped cream, but only if it's real. If it's out of the can, then nothing.
Waitress: Not even the pie?
Sally: No, just the pie, but then not heated."
I know what I want. I'm even willing to be flexible within reason....I just don't know if I can get it. My kitchen is very small, and floor space is at a premium.
I don't have a pantry, so garbage & recycling will have to sit out. But the kitchen is at the crossroads of the entire place......I don't want my whole place looking like & smelling like garbage! I *love* this, but Jesus H Christ - it's a hundred and sixty nine dollars!!!! I've found other things would would be 'okay', but nothing that really solves the issue I have...and I'm not ready to spend two hundred bucks on a TRASH bin. *sigh* But I'm also not willing to throw away $15 on one that doesn't do what I need. I don't want much - I just want what I want.
I need a piece of wood for the sliding glass door, to "lock" it in place when I put the cat door in. I'm so looking forward to my cat becoming more independent - where I can put food & water out, and let him wander out on the back porch at his leisure. I don't know if I kept my chimes or not. I may find them in a box one day. I've already found things I'd forgotten about. I'd like a nice little chair to sit out on the porch and read, inhaling the scent of rhododendrons and wisteria, D'Artagnon rolling at my feet.
Slowly, but surely, my home away from home is being born. For now I live here instead of there, and dream of things to come.
--BT
I stopped by my place today, and took care of a few small things - changed the light bulb out front, put the cabinet together that goes behind/over the toilet, ripped the tags off a bath mat & throw rug. I put wine & ketchup in the fridge, and washed a few counter tops down. I found a lamp (but no shade), and put a bulb in it. I now have light in my bedroom. I cannot yet eat or shower there, still need a mattress, went shopping for a filing cabinet & bookcase (but came home with nothing). The other day, I took the plastic wrap off some of the furniture, dwelling on the beauty that has been hidden in storage for well over a year.
It is my home......yet I don't live there. Yet.
As I wander around, I see things I mean to take care of - some of which I've been meaning to take care of for nigh on seven years. The light in the kitchen is cracked, and ugly. There's a problem with the seal around the bathtub, and I don't know if it involves just grout & elbow grease or licensed, bonded professionals who make 5x what I do. There's a soft spot nearby that will probably involve ripping flooring up & hopefully not needing to replace sub flooring. The rickety creak just *sounds* expensive, which means it will probably have to wait.
I used to have towel racks in the bathroom, and a water purifier on the kitchen sink. I don't know where they disappeared to, or who exactly was responsible for the disappearance. Little mysteries await me at every turn. "Didn't there used to be.....", I wonder. The cupboards are different than what I remember, but they must be the same. I never did put curtains up the first time. I believe I shall rectify that oversight this time.
My to-do list is growing by the day - I need to find the piano bench. It must be in storage. And a tuner - it doesn't sound as good as it did when I was a child.....I'm guessing my father hadn't had it tuned since before my mother became ill, and that's pushing 15-20 years. Because of that, I'll probably have to have 4-5 tunings before it's back to normal. Pianos are delicate instruments, and you can't just force them back into shape. It's like going to a chiropractor - they do small adjustments so as not to overstress you with change. That's what I need - a chiropractor for the piano. Does my insurance cover that??
A microwave would be useful. I need a throw-rug for the entry way. And dining room chairs. I inherited chairs, but they are worn out, in need of repair - repairs I once priced out at $1800. Ouch. I have better ways to spend that kind of money. A wine cabinet. Book case. Lateral File. A television set? Perhaps. I have a DVD player I discovered....it was in a dresser drawer, along with a feather pillow and a Mariner Moose. Very strange - I thought I gave all my electronics away.
As I search for things I need, I am reminded of the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally.....not the Deli "I'll have what she's having" one, but early on when Meg Ryan orders pie as they travel to New York.
"Sally: I'd like the chef salad please with oil and vinegar on the side, and the apple pie a la mode.
Waitress: Chef and apple a la mode.
Sally: But I'd like the pie heated, and I don't want the ice cream on top. I want it on the side, and I'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you have it. If not, then no ice cream, just whipped cream, but only if it's real. If it's out of the can, then nothing.
Waitress: Not even the pie?
Sally: No, just the pie, but then not heated."
I know what I want. I'm even willing to be flexible within reason....I just don't know if I can get it. My kitchen is very small, and floor space is at a premium.
I don't have a pantry, so garbage & recycling will have to sit out. But the kitchen is at the crossroads of the entire place......I don't want my whole place looking like & smelling like garbage! I *love* this, but Jesus H Christ - it's a hundred and sixty nine dollars!!!! I've found other things would would be 'okay', but nothing that really solves the issue I have...and I'm not ready to spend two hundred bucks on a TRASH bin. *sigh* But I'm also not willing to throw away $15 on one that doesn't do what I need. I don't want much - I just want what I want.I need a piece of wood for the sliding glass door, to "lock" it in place when I put the cat door in. I'm so looking forward to my cat becoming more independent - where I can put food & water out, and let him wander out on the back porch at his leisure. I don't know if I kept my chimes or not. I may find them in a box one day. I've already found things I'd forgotten about. I'd like a nice little chair to sit out on the porch and read, inhaling the scent of rhododendrons and wisteria, D'Artagnon rolling at my feet.
Slowly, but surely, my home away from home is being born. For now I live here instead of there, and dream of things to come.
--BT
Friday, July 13, 2007
My Quiet Little Life
It's been a strangely busy and disorienting week. My boyfriend has been out of town, so I can scarcely blame it on him. *smile* Last weekend, I went out on the town with a friend which involved flaming pots of chocolate and a Utah waitress with funky hair. (see Lucky Number Seven). The next day was a birthday party - where adults were asked to come dressed as children and children as adults. Quite fun, and I have the hot pink feather boa to prove it.
My carpet got installed on Monday morning.....VERY happy about how it turned out! So I went in late - this was going to be an odd day anyway - There's one project we have that six people have been trained on (including the manager). FIVE of them were out of the office on Monday leaving only the guy who learned it three weeks ago in charge. Oh joy! So he came in at 6am to cover that.....then my 8am gal came in at 5 to cover *my* teammate who's out. That left *no one* working until 8pm who knows both projects, which is why I came in late.
Monday, I arrive to find out my programmer's hard drive crashed......just as he's uploading the final fix for a program I wrote specs for about five months ago. That night was supposed to be my by-week at pool, but I got called in to play. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday we blew up lots and lots of balloons - over 250 of them - and FILLED this guy's cubicle as a surprise for one of my co-workers. He'd been on vacation, and then his grandfather passed away, so we wanted to do something to cheer him up.
Wednesday, I dropped my bike. TWICE. In fifteen minutes. Turned out that I flooded it the first time I dropped it, which is why it died as I was rounding a corner causing the 2nd crash. I waited an hour for a friend to come help me out. Ended up being late enough that we went to breakfast, since my punishment for tardiness is the same whether I'm two hours late or four. Minor damage to the bike. None to me, unless you count my ego. 
Thursday I stayed late again to cover the hours I missed on Wednesday, and then went to see Harry Potter!! I have been waiting months and months for this, and it was every bit as good as I'd hoped it would be. But by the time I got to bed it was quite late.
Today, the movers came. Most of my stuff is now occupying the floor space of my condo. Hallelujah. But it couldn't possibly go smoothly, The first guy to show up was totally lame. Clueless, disorganized, and he spent half his time doing god knows what - searching for bandages for splinters, or taking one small box & a lamp down to the truck instead of loading up the cart & the freight elevator with goods. The second guy was good. The third guy was good, once he arrived, but he was 45 minutes late.
After two hours, none of us wanted the first guy touching anything, so we finally sent him out for food. I took a vote, and it was unanimous to let him go, and handle the piano without him. Note - the piano was the entire reason I ordered three men in the FIRST place.
What took three men two hours to do in Florida, it took three men AND me nearly six hours to do in Washington. Now granted a good hour of that was driving time, but STILL. It made me want to pull what little hair I have left out by the roots. Today was my brother's birthday, and we were supposed to go in early so we could eat at the stadium. That was not to be. The game turned out to be really exciting all the way down to the last pitch, but we netted a loss nonetheless.
Tomorrow, I need to get my license plate & driver's license squared away, and then the DS meeting is in the evening. Sunday, I unpack. My boyfriend comes back in town that night, but he may just want to go home & crash. I think I need a vacation to recover from life. Just when I'd like things to slow down, I have a project heating up at work, I have things I need to buy to start living in my new home (like a mattress & box spring for starters....and a trash can). I need to find a roommate.
What happened to my quiet little life?
--BT
My carpet got installed on Monday morning.....VERY happy about how it turned out! So I went in late - this was going to be an odd day anyway - There's one project we have that six people have been trained on (including the manager). FIVE of them were out of the office on Monday leaving only the guy who learned it three weeks ago in charge. Oh joy! So he came in at 6am to cover that.....then my 8am gal came in at 5 to cover *my* teammate who's out. That left *no one* working until 8pm who knows both projects, which is why I came in late.
Monday, I arrive to find out my programmer's hard drive crashed......just as he's uploading the final fix for a program I wrote specs for about five months ago. That night was supposed to be my by-week at pool, but I got called in to play. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday we blew up lots and lots of balloons - over 250 of them - and FILLED this guy's cubicle as a surprise for one of my co-workers. He'd been on vacation, and then his grandfather passed away, so we wanted to do something to cheer him up.
Wednesday, I dropped my bike. TWICE. In fifteen minutes. Turned out that I flooded it the first time I dropped it, which is why it died as I was rounding a corner causing the 2nd crash. I waited an hour for a friend to come help me out. Ended up being late enough that we went to breakfast, since my punishment for tardiness is the same whether I'm two hours late or four. Minor damage to the bike. None to me, unless you count my ego. 
Thursday I stayed late again to cover the hours I missed on Wednesday, and then went to see Harry Potter!! I have been waiting months and months for this, and it was every bit as good as I'd hoped it would be. But by the time I got to bed it was quite late.
Today, the movers came. Most of my stuff is now occupying the floor space of my condo. Hallelujah. But it couldn't possibly go smoothly, The first guy to show up was totally lame. Clueless, disorganized, and he spent half his time doing god knows what - searching for bandages for splinters, or taking one small box & a lamp down to the truck instead of loading up the cart & the freight elevator with goods. The second guy was good. The third guy was good, once he arrived, but he was 45 minutes late.
After two hours, none of us wanted the first guy touching anything, so we finally sent him out for food. I took a vote, and it was unanimous to let him go, and handle the piano without him. Note - the piano was the entire reason I ordered three men in the FIRST place.
What took three men two hours to do in Florida, it took three men AND me nearly six hours to do in Washington. Now granted a good hour of that was driving time, but STILL. It made me want to pull what little hair I have left out by the roots. Today was my brother's birthday, and we were supposed to go in early so we could eat at the stadium. That was not to be. The game turned out to be really exciting all the way down to the last pitch, but we netted a loss nonetheless.
Tomorrow, I need to get my license plate & driver's license squared away, and then the DS meeting is in the evening. Sunday, I unpack. My boyfriend comes back in town that night, but he may just want to go home & crash. I think I need a vacation to recover from life. Just when I'd like things to slow down, I have a project heating up at work, I have things I need to buy to start living in my new home (like a mattress & box spring for starters....and a trash can). I need to find a roommate.
What happened to my quiet little life?
--BT
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Lucky Number Seven
Hitting the Jackpot. Winning the Lottery. These are the types of things most people are dreaming about today, on 07/07/07, but for one such friend of mine - she already has won the lottery. Anne has a date with a doctah! *wink*
Louis Pasteur once said that luck is when preparation meets opportunity - and today, one very, very, very prepared friend and I are going out to celebrate the fact that she now has the opportunity for a life-saving operation. It's called the Duodenal Switch, and it is a remarkable gift that restores life to a body that has been robbed by metabolic disorders and obesity. I know, because I've had it myself. It's one of a category of Weight Loss Surgeries, but it does so much more than that. It eliminated my high cholesterol, resolved my insulin resistance (pre-diabetes), and helped me shed well over 100 lbs.
It has taken literally years for Anne to get all of her ducks in a row - qualifying for disability, getting set up on Medicare, waiting (and waiting ZzZzzZzzz and waiting) for Medicare to finally kick in. She is at that balance point of sickness and health to NEED the surgery, yet be physically able to survive it. Her date is scheduled for August, so the tension and fear of the actual operation is still a few weeks down the road.
Today.......today is all about the potential. Luck, and love, and joy, and hope! The what ifs, what might, what could life be like if she were healed. I'm going to quiz her on what she's looking forward to most - the growing list of Wows she's waiting for, and what she's hoping for. It will take a while for her to get there because she has farther to go than some.....and she will not only need to deal with recovery from the surgery, but recovery from the disease as well. But I can hardly wait - she is already an amazing woman, and the power & vitality she'll gain from this will only serve to launch her further into the stratosphere.
It is only fitting that today, SeaFair weekend, here in Seattle....her ship has come in.
Salut!!!
--BT
Louis Pasteur once said that luck is when preparation meets opportunity - and today, one very, very, very prepared friend and I are going out to celebrate the fact that she now has the opportunity for a life-saving operation. It's called the Duodenal Switch, and it is a remarkable gift that restores life to a body that has been robbed by metabolic disorders and obesity. I know, because I've had it myself. It's one of a category of Weight Loss Surgeries, but it does so much more than that. It eliminated my high cholesterol, resolved my insulin resistance (pre-diabetes), and helped me shed well over 100 lbs.
It has taken literally years for Anne to get all of her ducks in a row - qualifying for disability, getting set up on Medicare, waiting (and waiting ZzZzzZzzz and waiting) for Medicare to finally kick in. She is at that balance point of sickness and health to NEED the surgery, yet be physically able to survive it. Her date is scheduled for August, so the tension and fear of the actual operation is still a few weeks down the road.
Today.......today is all about the potential. Luck, and love, and joy, and hope! The what ifs, what might, what could life be like if she were healed. I'm going to quiz her on what she's looking forward to most - the growing list of Wows she's waiting for, and what she's hoping for. It will take a while for her to get there because she has farther to go than some.....and she will not only need to deal with recovery from the surgery, but recovery from the disease as well. But I can hardly wait - she is already an amazing woman, and the power & vitality she'll gain from this will only serve to launch her further into the stratosphere.
It is only fitting that today, SeaFair weekend, here in Seattle....her ship has come in.
Salut!!!
--BT
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Buckaroo Banzai's Love Child
There's something about new love which is both intoxicating and maddening. It sets up a conflict within, wishing to dive in, immerse yourself, rush forward to see where it goes, yet stretching it out and savoring each moment and 'first' that comes along. 
First date, first kiss, first ILY - special moments that mark time better than a calendar. Time cascades into ripples of images, where memories overlay and hours disappear.
My first kiss was Marshall McClanahan who lived across the street. We were six years old, and he moved into the house of my first boyfriend, Johnnie Humphrey, who moved away when I was four. I don't remember why I kissed Marshall, and not Johnnie, but I did. After school, I'd watch old Godzilla movies with Charlie Blaylock, and I held hands with Chris Paine, who walked me home from school through the woods. Other firsts came along - first date, first grownup boyfriend, and of course, who doesn't remember their first time. My first time was highly unusual though.
Many people tell stories of young love, the backseat of a car, the stadium at school, their parents house. I got a menu. *laugh* Knowing we were headed in that direction, he gave me some pillow books to read.....a sort of How-To guide for new lovers....browsing them alone, I was able to see what intrigued me in concept, and what I was actually willing to try. Basically, I was like "I want to try that, and that, and that.....and I don't know if my body bends that way, but just in case it does, I want to try that, too." As a Gemini, it was a perfect introduction.
I had a strange dream afterwards, that my brother who had cancer wanted to come back as my baby and that I was pregnant with him. The morning after, I returned home to find out that my brother really had died - at almost the exact moment I lost my virginity. Twas surreal - Was it a premonition? I don't know; that was nearly twenty years ago, and I have yet to have a child.
It's been a *long* time since I was in love. For the last several years it seems that I was hit and miss with men. I'd meet someone interesting, and they'd move away. Or they wouldn't call. Or they did call, and I had to tell them no. Lots of first dates, and online meet & greets, but no one that really sparked my imagination, my passions and desire. I've tried Yahoo, I've tried Match, I've tried E-Harmony, I even joined Events and Adventures - a singles club that sets up activities for people to do, so they could mingle. Nada!
And then I finally met someone the old fashioned way - in real life. It's still early in the relationship, and who knows where it will go - but it has potential. It took me a while to realize it - we've known each other nearly a year, and both been interested in the other, but unaware that it was mutual. I joke that he's a cross between Buckaroo Banzai and MacGyver. According to IMDB, MacGyver is "Part boy-scout. Part genius. All hero." and "Buckaroo Banzai is a rock-star/brain-surgeon/comic-book-hero/samurai who along with his group, the Hong Kong Cavaliers, must stop evil creatures from the 8th dimension (all named John) who are trying to conquer our dimension. He is helped by Penny Pretty, who is a dead ringer for his ex-wife, and some good extra-dimensional beings who look and talk like Jamaicans."
What's not to love?
--BT
First date, first kiss, first ILY - special moments that mark time better than a calendar. Time cascades into ripples of images, where memories overlay and hours disappear. My first kiss was Marshall McClanahan who lived across the street. We were six years old, and he moved into the house of my first boyfriend, Johnnie Humphrey, who moved away when I was four. I don't remember why I kissed Marshall, and not Johnnie, but I did. After school, I'd watch old Godzilla movies with Charlie Blaylock, and I held hands with Chris Paine, who walked me home from school through the woods. Other firsts came along - first date, first grownup boyfriend, and of course, who doesn't remember their first time. My first time was highly unusual though.
Many people tell stories of young love, the backseat of a car, the stadium at school, their parents house. I got a menu. *laugh* Knowing we were headed in that direction, he gave me some pillow books to read.....a sort of How-To guide for new lovers....browsing them alone, I was able to see what intrigued me in concept, and what I was actually willing to try. Basically, I was like "I want to try that, and that, and that.....and I don't know if my body bends that way, but just in case it does, I want to try that, too." As a Gemini, it was a perfect introduction.
I had a strange dream afterwards, that my brother who had cancer wanted to come back as my baby and that I was pregnant with him. The morning after, I returned home to find out that my brother really had died - at almost the exact moment I lost my virginity. Twas surreal - Was it a premonition? I don't know; that was nearly twenty years ago, and I have yet to have a child.
It's been a *long* time since I was in love. For the last several years it seems that I was hit and miss with men. I'd meet someone interesting, and they'd move away. Or they wouldn't call. Or they did call, and I had to tell them no. Lots of first dates, and online meet & greets, but no one that really sparked my imagination, my passions and desire. I've tried Yahoo, I've tried Match, I've tried E-Harmony, I even joined Events and Adventures - a singles club that sets up activities for people to do, so they could mingle. Nada!And then I finally met someone the old fashioned way - in real life. It's still early in the relationship, and who knows where it will go - but it has potential. It took me a while to realize it - we've known each other nearly a year, and both been interested in the other, but unaware that it was mutual. I joke that he's a cross between Buckaroo Banzai and MacGyver. According to IMDB, MacGyver is "Part boy-scout. Part genius. All hero." and "Buckaroo Banzai is a rock-star/brain-surgeon/comic-book-hero/samurai who along with his group, the Hong Kong Cavaliers, must stop evil creatures from the 8th dimension (all named John) who are trying to conquer our dimension. He is helped by Penny Pretty, who is a dead ringer for his ex-wife, and some good extra-dimensional beings who look and talk like Jamaicans."
What's not to love?
--BT
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Twenty-Eight Miles
I've had my motorcycle for a couple of weeks now, but have not had an opportunity to ride it until today. First, I needed to make sure I had insurance on it. Then the weather soured, and I waited for it to clear. I finally had a good evening, only to discover I couldn't back it out of my space (slanted sideways on a hill, backing it UP hill using only my leg muscles since there is no reverse on a motorcycle). I had someone come over this weekend, to turn it around for me so I could use 1st gear to pull out forward instead of backing out.
Over the weekend, it became apparent that the brakes on my car needed some attention (BOY did they need attention, did I discover!), so the need to ride the motorcycle as my back-up transportation came into play. I left a note for work letting them know the car was going in the shop, and I'd be late.
I borrowed some warm riding gear from someone, and headed out to my condo, where I'm keeping the bike. As I was getting ready this morning, it was strange to realize that I was a bit trepidatious about riding it. It's a bigger bike than I've ever ridden before. I'd never gone over 20mph. All of my experience was in a controlled environment - not the semi-controlled chaos of city streets. I knew I wasn't ready for freeways, but surface streets can be equally as unpredictable. Was I ready? Could I handle this? Was it too much for me? Little questions prickled my spine.
I've used a fair bit of caution in avoiding circumstances I knew I wasn't ready for - riding in the rain, on freeways, at night - but I was surprised that I felt fear about getting on it at all. When I dropped my car off at the dealership, I asked for a ride back to my condo.......it's only a block away, but carrying helmet, gloves, backpack, fully armored fully lined motorcycle jacket, and waterproof riding pants, I didn't care to walk it. They dropped me off, and I went inside to dress.
It was now or never. The weather was perfect, I had driven the route I was going to take before, and I was in no rush to get there. If I didn't do it today, I knew I never would. With speed bumps the size of hippopotamuses, the first tenth of a mile was a little bumpy. But then the bike settled down and so did I, and my fears dissipated.
I got to take it around some sharp corners, up and down hills, numerous traffic lights, and many sharp curves. The wind whistled through my helmet, but the armored shoulder pads held my backpack firmly in place. The faster I went, the more comfortable the bike felt. I made it up to 45 mph, and by the time I got to work, I was wishing I worked further away. :)
Today was a gorgeous day here in Seattle, and the bikes began to line up at work, including mine! I went to lunch with another motorcycle enthusiast, and he said I had good riding form. He's *very* experienced, so that's definitely a great compliment to hear. Other than killing the engine nearly every time I started to move on the way to work, and trying to figure out how to make a left turn across rush hour traffic up a hill without a traffic signal on the way home, it was good.
Once I got over it, I had a blast! Now, I need, I need, I need.........riding gear, better boots, accessories for the bike, more experience, and good routes to travel. Just what I need - another expensive hobby. *lol* But the investment in protection is worth the price. If I hadn't just spent $600 on a brake job today, I'd be ready to shop.
So can you guess how far I rode today??
:)
--BT
Over the weekend, it became apparent that the brakes on my car needed some attention (BOY did they need attention, did I discover!), so the need to ride the motorcycle as my back-up transportation came into play. I left a note for work letting them know the car was going in the shop, and I'd be late.
I borrowed some warm riding gear from someone, and headed out to my condo, where I'm keeping the bike. As I was getting ready this morning, it was strange to realize that I was a bit trepidatious about riding it. It's a bigger bike than I've ever ridden before. I'd never gone over 20mph. All of my experience was in a controlled environment - not the semi-controlled chaos of city streets. I knew I wasn't ready for freeways, but surface streets can be equally as unpredictable. Was I ready? Could I handle this? Was it too much for me? Little questions prickled my spine.
I've used a fair bit of caution in avoiding circumstances I knew I wasn't ready for - riding in the rain, on freeways, at night - but I was surprised that I felt fear about getting on it at all. When I dropped my car off at the dealership, I asked for a ride back to my condo.......it's only a block away, but carrying helmet, gloves, backpack, fully armored fully lined motorcycle jacket, and waterproof riding pants, I didn't care to walk it. They dropped me off, and I went inside to dress.
It was now or never. The weather was perfect, I had driven the route I was going to take before, and I was in no rush to get there. If I didn't do it today, I knew I never would. With speed bumps the size of hippopotamuses, the first tenth of a mile was a little bumpy. But then the bike settled down and so did I, and my fears dissipated.
I got to take it around some sharp corners, up and down hills, numerous traffic lights, and many sharp curves. The wind whistled through my helmet, but the armored shoulder pads held my backpack firmly in place. The faster I went, the more comfortable the bike felt. I made it up to 45 mph, and by the time I got to work, I was wishing I worked further away. :)
Today was a gorgeous day here in Seattle, and the bikes began to line up at work, including mine! I went to lunch with another motorcycle enthusiast, and he said I had good riding form. He's *very* experienced, so that's definitely a great compliment to hear. Other than killing the engine nearly every time I started to move on the way to work, and trying to figure out how to make a left turn across rush hour traffic up a hill without a traffic signal on the way home, it was good.
Once I got over it, I had a blast! Now, I need, I need, I need.........riding gear, better boots, accessories for the bike, more experience, and good routes to travel. Just what I need - another expensive hobby. *lol* But the investment in protection is worth the price. If I hadn't just spent $600 on a brake job today, I'd be ready to shop.
So can you guess how far I rode today??
:)
--BT
Monday, June 11, 2007
Visual DNA
Ran across this on someone else's blog, and really liked it. If you'll roll across each picture, it let me put a short description on WHY I chose what I chose. What is your visual DNA? If you do it, leave me a link so I can check it out.
--BT
Sunday, June 10, 2007
The Ten Thousand Dollar Day
Thursday turned out to be a super productive, extremely expensive day. There aren't many days that I can honestly say I spent ten grand, and was happy about it. Heck there aren't many days I can say that, period!
The Painters: Two days. That's all it took. They came in on Wednesday, and by Thursday afternoon they were headed out to go fishing. Gotta love motivation like that. The place looks *fabulous*!! I cannot state that often enough. While I'm quite certain I could have done it cheaper myself, the results would have reflected that. Nothing really stands up to the professional, and that's what makes them worth paying for.
The Movers: Yay!! My stuff has arrived!! I haven't spent quality time with my furniture in over a year. I was so happy to see my Chinese screen that I kissed it. Now, they weren't the fastest guys on the planet, but it worked. They picked things up in early May, and by request, waited to deliver it until early June. Took them 2 and a half hours to unload & put everything into a 10 x 10 storage unit. I am fortunate that I can take a three hour lunch, without taking too much of a hit at work. Now, if I could just get the carpet guys to come out, I'd be able to move in.
The Bike: Hot chick on a hot bike. *lol* That's what one of my co-workers said when he saw what I'd purchased. Of course, then he got nervous that he'd offended me. You know the whole work, sexual harassment, can't say Boo. I'm like - hey, it was a compliment! Can't get much better than that! Damn!
So what did I get? It's a 2006 Midnight Black Buell Blast motorcycle, with only 197 miles on it. However, unlike many sport bikes, this is not a lean-over, crotch rocket style bike. It's got the styling of one, but rider positioning is more like a cruiser. I really thought about getting the white one, but it was an '03 (with only 300 miles on it) for the same price as the '06.
I have not yet had the pleasure of riding it though. The dealer did some prep to it, and so we went to pick it up today. My friend rode it home for me, but until I have insurance on it, I'm going to hold off on putting it on the road. But I had to laugh as I'm following him back to my place......not that I'm planning to, but if I were to accidentally hit my own bike, while driving his car, would that be covered under my insurance as uninsured motorist, since the bike was uninsured, but I *am* insured for any car I drive? Sheesh - this sounds like one of those math questions "If two trains left New York..."
Slowly, but surely the pieces are falling into place. Expensive pieces, to be sure, but money well spent.
Thanks, Dad.
--BT
The Painters: Two days. That's all it took. They came in on Wednesday, and by Thursday afternoon they were headed out to go fishing. Gotta love motivation like that. The place looks *fabulous*!! I cannot state that often enough. While I'm quite certain I could have done it cheaper myself, the results would have reflected that. Nothing really stands up to the professional, and that's what makes them worth paying for.
The Movers: Yay!! My stuff has arrived!! I haven't spent quality time with my furniture in over a year. I was so happy to see my Chinese screen that I kissed it. Now, they weren't the fastest guys on the planet, but it worked. They picked things up in early May, and by request, waited to deliver it until early June. Took them 2 and a half hours to unload & put everything into a 10 x 10 storage unit. I am fortunate that I can take a three hour lunch, without taking too much of a hit at work. Now, if I could just get the carpet guys to come out, I'd be able to move in.
The Bike: Hot chick on a hot bike. *lol* That's what one of my co-workers said when he saw what I'd purchased. Of course, then he got nervous that he'd offended me. You know the whole work, sexual harassment, can't say Boo. I'm like - hey, it was a compliment! Can't get much better than that! Damn!
So what did I get? It's a 2006 Midnight Black Buell Blast motorcycle, with only 197 miles on it. However, unlike many sport bikes, this is not a lean-over, crotch rocket style bike. It's got the styling of one, but rider positioning is more like a cruiser. I really thought about getting the white one, but it was an '03 (with only 300 miles on it) for the same price as the '06.
I have not yet had the pleasure of riding it though. The dealer did some prep to it, and so we went to pick it up today. My friend rode it home for me, but until I have insurance on it, I'm going to hold off on putting it on the road. But I had to laugh as I'm following him back to my place......not that I'm planning to, but if I were to accidentally hit my own bike, while driving his car, would that be covered under my insurance as uninsured motorist, since the bike was uninsured, but I *am* insured for any car I drive? Sheesh - this sounds like one of those math questions "If two trains left New York..."
Slowly, but surely the pieces are falling into place. Expensive pieces, to be sure, but money well spent.
Thanks, Dad.
--BT
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Great Day, but D'oh!
In any job, in any company, there's always a lot of hoo-haa about 'the customer's experience', which is really an illusion. We cannot truly know someone else's perspective, even if we 'walk a mile' in their moccasins. But once in a while we are given a glimpse, and last night was that moment.
I woke up about 3am Friday morning, my shoulder aching with just a little bit in pain. I've had nearly a year of chiropractic work on it, but the adhesions are still there, and it still gives me issues. So a 2am wake-up call isn't that unusual. I wandered around for a bit, weighed, went to the bathroom, weighed again, had a glass of water, weighed again. I'm almost always about 155, give or take. I don't know why, but I find that give & take fascinating.
Then, to lull my mind into a daze so I could go back to sleep, I sat down at the computer. It only took a few keystrokes and a couple of swear words to realize that my Internet is down. I *JUST* had them out here on *Wednesday* to fix the cable TV, and now the Internet is broken????? NOT a happy camper, but it *is* 3am, and maybe they are doing maintenance. So I shrug, just a little bit put out that I can't check email, and head back to bed.
Around 8am - a much more civilized hour to be rolling out of bed - I start my morning routine, which consists of stumbling around in some state of nudity and clothing discord, wiping the sleep out of my eyes, saying "Not Yet" to the cats who are demanding breakfast, and checking my email. Except.....it's STILL not connecting. GRrrRRrrr When I get a minute, I'm going to read somebody the riot act. They were JUST out here! What did they mess up this time?? *heavysigh* I do NOT have time for this. I can't be staying home in four hour blocks 2-3x a week while they fix stuff.
But I was going to see the Mariners that night, and go motorcycle shopping in the afternoon. It's supposed to be a beautiful day, I think, but I'm not able to tell since I can't get to weather.com. I'm leaving work early, and hoping I have everything ready. Where's my ticket? Oh yes, I attached it to my keychain last night so I *couldn't* forget it! Uhm....now where did I put my keychain?
About halfway through the morning, my cell phone stops working. I *think* this is a good thing, as I had requested that my service be transferred from my old phone to the fancy-schmancy new one that I bought last week. Except - the guy that is taking me to look at motorcycles is out, and the only way I have to reach him is by phone.....and he can't call me back because they have actually decided to do my migration in a matter of hours instead of the 10-14 days the website threatened....er....promised. Maybe half an hour later, I can make outgoing calls on the new phone. Progress! And then what do you know - I get an email confirming everything is done, and the new toy is ready to go. Yay! Just in time.
Two o'clock, I'm ready to go, and my friend, the motorcycle expert, is out front waiting for me. Whew! He's a great guy, and knowledgeable about just about everything, which is why I wanted him along. We looked at a number of cool looking bikes, including the Ninja, the Honda Shadow Aero, and the Buell Blast (see inset - and no, that's not me! *lol* I wish!) Learned a few things, sat down, straddled, mounted, inspected, peered under, over, around and leaned on a number of fine pieces of machinery. He quizzed the minions at the bike shops, mumbling magickal spells of comprehension in a language known only by a select few. By the time I found a model I really liked, it was time to head off to the baseball game.
Win or lose, I *love* the Mariners. From the first pitch to the last out, they are a thrill to watch, whether it's banging your head against an invisible wall as you watch the pitcher play Pin The Ball On The Strike Zone, or leaping out of your seat as a ground rule double ties up the game.....again. Ichiro broke the season record for hitting in the most number of consecutive games (25). Eight pitchers, and seven runs later, it's the 7th inning, and Ritchie Sexson came up to bat. I turned to one of my friends and said "we've seen everything but a home run tonight" and Voila - the next pitch Ritchie sent sailing over the Center Field wall.
Now, I lived in Texas for eleven years, so even though the M's are my team, I do have a soft spot for some of the Ranger players......Texeira and Kenny Lofton. And when Kenny Lofton, the man who is MY AGE, leapt up in the air, bent his arm backwards over the outfield wall and snatched Beltre's 2-run home run ball out of the stands, I could hardly believe it! I knew I'd be seeing that clip on Sportscenter for years to come. Our catcher made a U-turn just passed 2nd base and started booking it back to first. THAT is something you don't see every day of the week! He didn't make it, and the 2-run home run turned into a double play, ending the inning, and essentially the game.
Twas a long game, nearly four hours, but we had a great time. By the time I made it home, it was after midnight. I really wanted to see that play again, so after watching FSN, I then came upstairs to the computer room to try again. Again - no Internet!? What?! It's been almost 24 hours. I finally broke down and called ComCast. No, I don't know the phone number here. No, I don't know the account number. It's not my account - I can verify the address & the social though, so they decided to help me.
What kind of modem do we have? NO idea, sorry, but we do have a Linksys Router, does that help? She asked me to pull the power cord on it for ten seconds, and try again. I did, and it started working almost immediately. D'oh! God, I feel like such a moron. I troubleshoot high tech electronic equipment for a living, and the most common t/s advice we give out is to power-cycle the freakin' device! I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier.
But all's well that ends well, and this has been a great day.
I woke up about 3am Friday morning, my shoulder aching with just a little bit in pain. I've had nearly a year of chiropractic work on it, but the adhesions are still there, and it still gives me issues. So a 2am wake-up call isn't that unusual. I wandered around for a bit, weighed, went to the bathroom, weighed again, had a glass of water, weighed again. I'm almost always about 155, give or take. I don't know why, but I find that give & take fascinating.
Then, to lull my mind into a daze so I could go back to sleep, I sat down at the computer. It only took a few keystrokes and a couple of swear words to realize that my Internet is down. I *JUST* had them out here on *Wednesday* to fix the cable TV, and now the Internet is broken????? NOT a happy camper, but it *is* 3am, and maybe they are doing maintenance. So I shrug, just a little bit put out that I can't check email, and head back to bed.
Around 8am - a much more civilized hour to be rolling out of bed - I start my morning routine, which consists of stumbling around in some state of nudity and clothing discord, wiping the sleep out of my eyes, saying "Not Yet" to the cats who are demanding breakfast, and checking my email. Except.....it's STILL not connecting. GRrrRRrrr When I get a minute, I'm going to read somebody the riot act. They were JUST out here! What did they mess up this time?? *heavysigh* I do NOT have time for this. I can't be staying home in four hour blocks 2-3x a week while they fix stuff.
But I was going to see the Mariners that night, and go motorcycle shopping in the afternoon. It's supposed to be a beautiful day, I think, but I'm not able to tell since I can't get to weather.com. I'm leaving work early, and hoping I have everything ready. Where's my ticket? Oh yes, I attached it to my keychain last night so I *couldn't* forget it! Uhm....now where did I put my keychain? About halfway through the morning, my cell phone stops working. I *think* this is a good thing, as I had requested that my service be transferred from my old phone to the fancy-schmancy new one that I bought last week. Except - the guy that is taking me to look at motorcycles is out, and the only way I have to reach him is by phone.....and he can't call me back because they have actually decided to do my migration in a matter of hours instead of the 10-14 days the website threatened....er....promised. Maybe half an hour later, I can make outgoing calls on the new phone. Progress! And then what do you know - I get an email confirming everything is done, and the new toy is ready to go. Yay! Just in time.
Two o'clock, I'm ready to go, and my friend, the motorcycle expert, is out front waiting for me. Whew! He's a great guy, and knowledgeable about just about everything, which is why I wanted him along. We looked at a number of cool looking bikes, including the Ninja, the Honda Shadow Aero, and the Buell Blast (see inset - and no, that's not me! *lol* I wish!) Learned a few things, sat down, straddled, mounted, inspected, peered under, over, around and leaned on a number of fine pieces of machinery. He quizzed the minions at the bike shops, mumbling magickal spells of comprehension in a language known only by a select few. By the time I found a model I really liked, it was time to head off to the baseball game.
Win or lose, I *love* the Mariners. From the first pitch to the last out, they are a thrill to watch, whether it's banging your head against an invisible wall as you watch the pitcher play Pin The Ball On The Strike Zone, or leaping out of your seat as a ground rule double ties up the game.....again. Ichiro broke the season record for hitting in the most number of consecutive games (25). Eight pitchers, and seven runs later, it's the 7th inning, and Ritchie Sexson came up to bat. I turned to one of my friends and said "we've seen everything but a home run tonight" and Voila - the next pitch Ritchie sent sailing over the Center Field wall.
Now, I lived in Texas for eleven years, so even though the M's are my team, I do have a soft spot for some of the Ranger players......Texeira and Kenny Lofton. And when Kenny Lofton, the man who is MY AGE, leapt up in the air, bent his arm backwards over the outfield wall and snatched Beltre's 2-run home run ball out of the stands, I could hardly believe it! I knew I'd be seeing that clip on Sportscenter for years to come. Our catcher made a U-turn just passed 2nd base and started booking it back to first. THAT is something you don't see every day of the week! He didn't make it, and the 2-run home run turned into a double play, ending the inning, and essentially the game.
Twas a long game, nearly four hours, but we had a great time. By the time I made it home, it was after midnight. I really wanted to see that play again, so after watching FSN, I then came upstairs to the computer room to try again. Again - no Internet!? What?! It's been almost 24 hours. I finally broke down and called ComCast. No, I don't know the phone number here. No, I don't know the account number. It's not my account - I can verify the address & the social though, so they decided to help me.
What kind of modem do we have? NO idea, sorry, but we do have a Linksys Router, does that help? She asked me to pull the power cord on it for ten seconds, and try again. I did, and it started working almost immediately. D'oh! God, I feel like such a moron. I troubleshoot high tech electronic equipment for a living, and the most common t/s advice we give out is to power-cycle the freakin' device! I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier.
But all's well that ends well, and this has been a great day.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Sweetness and Light
D'Artagnan is what's called a cream tabby. To some, this means that he's a butterscotch & cream color rather than orange marmalade like the more well-known varieties. To me, it means he looks like Morris who laid out in the sun and got faded.
Cream tabbies, by nature, seem to be extremely mellow and D'Art is no exception. The day I got him, he was just a young buck - a teenager - perhaps 4-5 months old, which puts his birthday some time around the first of April, a fitting birthday for such a mischievously innocent creature. I specifically wanted a cat who *liked* other cats, as I wanted to get him a companion, and he was sharing a cage with a fellow shelter-kitty. Yes, he's adopted, but I haven't broken the news to him yet.
After only 20 minutes or so, I completed the paperwork. I asked if he had a name, and the lady said it was "Dar-TAN-EE-on". Cringing only slightly, I helped her correct the spelling (and pronunciation) of his name. A name made famous by Alexandre Dumas, the fourth Musketeer is often remembered as primarily a lover, not a fighter, and D'Art lives up to his name.
I stopped by work to show off my new-found companion, and he proceeded to stretch out full length on the reception desk and let fifty people rub his belly. Watch out - House Cat on Duty. Well, maybe not at THIS house. We were there for well over an hour, as this steady stream of people came through to OOOooOOo and Aaaahhh over him, petting him, touching him, and he didn't once get spooked.
He once got stuck in a tree, about 20 feet off the ground. Declawed, he didn't have a means of climbing DOWN and he refused to jump. I guess the towel I was holding out didn't look inviting enough Fortunately my ten year old neighbor-boy was currently sitting 30 feet up a tree reading a book, so he was a natural choice to send after my wayward son. He got into a fight with a possum once, and had to have an open gaping wound draining out of his chest for three weeks.
A couple of years ago, I had to leave him (and my other cat) for several weeks alone in the house with nothing but a food/water bowl and a litter box. A Category 4 Hurricane blew through town, knocking out electricity, trees, freeways, bridges, and much much more. For some odd reason, the woman who was watching him decided it was too much trouble to check on them regularly. (Something about a hurricane getting in the way?) With the airport closed, I couldn't fly home. Some cats will get pissy with you when you leave them alone too long - D'Art greeted me the same as always, with love and affection, purring, sitting next to me, and curling up against my legs like nothing unusual had happened. But he seemed a little afraid of letting me leave again.
A year later when I left the country for three weeks (this time intentionally), my roommate was watching over him, and I took each of his toes, and visualized the sun rising and setting on each one. I believe some animals have a higher form of intelligence than we give them credit for, but sometimes you have to speak to them in pictures - I wanted him to know that I would be gone for 21 days, and I felt like this was a way I could communicate that. For the 21st day, I visualized the sunrise/sunset again and kissed his face, pressing my nose again him Eskimo-style. When I returned, tired, weakened, sore, and ever so glad to be home, he hopped up on the bed and pressed his nose against mine in the same way - as if he'd been counting the days until my return.
It's been two years since that day, and he's still just as mellow and affectionate as he ever was.....as long as the sun isn't shining. When the sun is out, and it's 80 degrees, he's more like "Thanks for dinner - can I go out now???". I've seen him for all of about ten minutes in the last four days - ninety percent of which was him running to the food bowl and back again.
-BT
Cream tabbies, by nature, seem to be extremely mellow and D'Art is no exception. The day I got him, he was just a young buck - a teenager - perhaps 4-5 months old, which puts his birthday some time around the first of April, a fitting birthday for such a mischievously innocent creature. I specifically wanted a cat who *liked* other cats, as I wanted to get him a companion, and he was sharing a cage with a fellow shelter-kitty. Yes, he's adopted, but I haven't broken the news to him yet. After only 20 minutes or so, I completed the paperwork. I asked if he had a name, and the lady said it was "Dar-TAN-EE-on". Cringing only slightly, I helped her correct the spelling (and pronunciation) of his name. A name made famous by Alexandre Dumas, the fourth Musketeer is often remembered as primarily a lover, not a fighter, and D'Art lives up to his name.
I stopped by work to show off my new-found companion, and he proceeded to stretch out full length on the reception desk and let fifty people rub his belly. Watch out - House Cat on Duty. Well, maybe not at THIS house. We were there for well over an hour, as this steady stream of people came through to OOOooOOo and Aaaahhh over him, petting him, touching him, and he didn't once get spooked.
He once got stuck in a tree, about 20 feet off the ground. Declawed, he didn't have a means of climbing DOWN and he refused to jump. I guess the towel I was holding out didn't look inviting enough Fortunately my ten year old neighbor-boy was currently sitting 30 feet up a tree reading a book, so he was a natural choice to send after my wayward son. He got into a fight with a possum once, and had to have an open gaping wound draining out of his chest for three weeks.
A couple of years ago, I had to leave him (and my other cat) for several weeks alone in the house with nothing but a food/water bowl and a litter box. A Category 4 Hurricane blew through town, knocking out electricity, trees, freeways, bridges, and much much more. For some odd reason, the woman who was watching him decided it was too much trouble to check on them regularly. (Something about a hurricane getting in the way?) With the airport closed, I couldn't fly home. Some cats will get pissy with you when you leave them alone too long - D'Art greeted me the same as always, with love and affection, purring, sitting next to me, and curling up against my legs like nothing unusual had happened. But he seemed a little afraid of letting me leave again. A year later when I left the country for three weeks (this time intentionally), my roommate was watching over him, and I took each of his toes, and visualized the sun rising and setting on each one. I believe some animals have a higher form of intelligence than we give them credit for, but sometimes you have to speak to them in pictures - I wanted him to know that I would be gone for 21 days, and I felt like this was a way I could communicate that. For the 21st day, I visualized the sunrise/sunset again and kissed his face, pressing my nose again him Eskimo-style. When I returned, tired, weakened, sore, and ever so glad to be home, he hopped up on the bed and pressed his nose against mine in the same way - as if he'd been counting the days until my return.
It's been two years since that day, and he's still just as mellow and affectionate as he ever was.....as long as the sun isn't shining. When the sun is out, and it's 80 degrees, he's more like "Thanks for dinner - can I go out now???". I've seen him for all of about ten minutes in the last four days - ninety percent of which was him running to the food bowl and back again.
-BT
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The Mutual Admiration Society
In everyone's life, there are people that you're kind of obligated to be nice to - because you work with them, because you're related to them, because you live with them. To some, I am one of those people.
I have several people in my life, both family and acquaintances, that I *really* like and admire. They are cool, fun, amazing people that have done some pretty unique things. I enjoy spending time with them, and hanging out.....but at times, I get the feeling that it isn't mutual. Not that they DIS-like me - they just don't think of me. For Christmas or other special occasions, usually yes, but when it comes to what to do on Saturday night, or who to call when they want to talk - it isn't me.
In some ways, this isolation is my own doing. I move around a lot. I left the state for five years. I'm terrible about returning phone calls or listening to my voice mail. I do have friends that I hang out with regularly, but I'm really wanting to expand my circle of friends - and even my current friends tend to hang out with me one-on-one, so I'm not meeting anyone new through them. It seems like most of the people I know live thousands of miles away, so I spend too much time in front of a monitor instead of sharing time with people in real life.
So I've started trying to break out a bit - asking people to do things, going to more events out of my comfort zone, and find ways to be more active. I need to initiate a little more with some of these folks, and see if this feeling of rejection is intentional or one of benign neglect. Several people have mentioned things they'd LIKE to do with me - we just never do. Maybe I need to put those "we should do lunch" folks to the test.
I can't change how other people feel.....but I can at least change how I participate in this play. And maybe I'll find out we *do* belong to the mutual admiration society. Or I'll find someone who does.
--BT
I have several people in my life, both family and acquaintances, that I *really* like and admire. They are cool, fun, amazing people that have done some pretty unique things. I enjoy spending time with them, and hanging out.....but at times, I get the feeling that it isn't mutual. Not that they DIS-like me - they just don't think of me. For Christmas or other special occasions, usually yes, but when it comes to what to do on Saturday night, or who to call when they want to talk - it isn't me.
In some ways, this isolation is my own doing. I move around a lot. I left the state for five years. I'm terrible about returning phone calls or listening to my voice mail. I do have friends that I hang out with regularly, but I'm really wanting to expand my circle of friends - and even my current friends tend to hang out with me one-on-one, so I'm not meeting anyone new through them. It seems like most of the people I know live thousands of miles away, so I spend too much time in front of a monitor instead of sharing time with people in real life.
So I've started trying to break out a bit - asking people to do things, going to more events out of my comfort zone, and find ways to be more active. I need to initiate a little more with some of these folks, and see if this feeling of rejection is intentional or one of benign neglect. Several people have mentioned things they'd LIKE to do with me - we just never do. Maybe I need to put those "we should do lunch" folks to the test.
I can't change how other people feel.....but I can at least change how I participate in this play. And maybe I'll find out we *do* belong to the mutual admiration society. Or I'll find someone who does.
--BT
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Tal Vez
My day started much earlier than usual - 5am, and the cats were looking at me like I was interrupting their beauty sleep. Every morning this week, I have searched for reasons why I *shouldn't* call in sick. I'm not sick - just tired, actually, but I don't get the chance to catch up on my sleep. And every morning this week, I've arrived to find an email from my boss, saying he's out again today. If I didn't like the guy so much, I'd have to hate him for that. Lucky bastard. :) Of course, HE doesn't think so - he's fighting the mutant lung fungi from hell. My main co-worker has also called in sick, but at least for today, I have a replacement for him. Thank god.
So there I am, trying to learn a few things from one of the gurus in my department - things that would be a tad helpful since I'm going to be filling in for him for a couple of days. Three impromptu meetings and three bottles of water later, I've still barely had a chance to say Good Morning, and he's leaving in an hour (40 minutes, he corrected me). Ah yes.
Now this is not the only training I've had - I spent well over 40 hours learning what he does, and I do keep a hand in it now and then.....but it's been a good six months since I've touched on the fundamentals, and he's leaving in a hour. Or 40 minutes. (It actually turned out to *be* an hour, but then he was running late - Ooops!)
I now have five projects I'm working on, and/or heading up, and I thought I had a momentary lull. Two projects are rolling along pretty much without me. One is my pet project and can move at whatever pace I need. The fourth is my primary job, which I turned over to someone else for the day, and the fifth......well, that's why I was trying to soak up some rays from the expert this morning. Then something broke, and my mind went blank. I *know* what to do, I had almost everything taken care of. Then I got to one step and felt the grey matter begin to crystallize into slush.
It wasn't long after that, that I realized I'd been there over nine and a half hours, and hadn't taken lunch. Oh, don't get me wrong - I didn't go ten hours without FOOD. I just went ten hours non-stop without stopping to breathe.
As busy as I was, I still sat there on lunch and went - Did I actually *DO* anything today? Tal Vez (Perhaps.)
So there I am, trying to learn a few things from one of the gurus in my department - things that would be a tad helpful since I'm going to be filling in for him for a couple of days. Three impromptu meetings and three bottles of water later, I've still barely had a chance to say Good Morning, and he's leaving in an hour (40 minutes, he corrected me). Ah yes.
Now this is not the only training I've had - I spent well over 40 hours learning what he does, and I do keep a hand in it now and then.....but it's been a good six months since I've touched on the fundamentals, and he's leaving in a hour. Or 40 minutes. (It actually turned out to *be* an hour, but then he was running late - Ooops!)
I now have five projects I'm working on, and/or heading up, and I thought I had a momentary lull. Two projects are rolling along pretty much without me. One is my pet project and can move at whatever pace I need. The fourth is my primary job, which I turned over to someone else for the day, and the fifth......well, that's why I was trying to soak up some rays from the expert this morning. Then something broke, and my mind went blank. I *know* what to do, I had almost everything taken care of. Then I got to one step and felt the grey matter begin to crystallize into slush.
It wasn't long after that, that I realized I'd been there over nine and a half hours, and hadn't taken lunch. Oh, don't get me wrong - I didn't go ten hours without FOOD. I just went ten hours non-stop without stopping to breathe.
As busy as I was, I still sat there on lunch and went - Did I actually *DO* anything today? Tal Vez (Perhaps.)
Friday, May 18, 2007
Slough
I've always liked this word - it's magic to me. To shed or cast off the past, and start fresh. It's a fascinating form of rejuvenation. Like a snake shedding its skin, we slough off the parts of our lives that we have outgrown, slipping off the clothing that doesn't fit anymore.
I'm at that point it seems- where one cycle ends and another begins, moving back to the first home I purchased nearly a decade ago. And oddly enough, I'm back working for a new version of the company I worked for back then. But it only looks the same. I've changed, and my life has changed in a myriad of ways.
And now I start the physical renewal process called remodeling. New paint, new carpet, updating things here and there, adjusting, meddling, tampering with the little pieces of reality that form the four walls of my sanctuary. I've been in limbo for over a year.....living with my brother, my things in storage, my life on hold. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting....
I feel like I can hardly catch my breath, that I can't get enough air, now that the waiting is almost over. My stuff is en route. I have the carpet picked out. I know what I want to do, and I want it done *yesterday*. I'm ready. Ready to take action. Ready to be done with it all. Ready to start fresh.
But I can't.....I still have endings to finish, things to do, pieces of deadwood from my life to be sloughed off.
Maybe tomorrow.
I'm at that point it seems- where one cycle ends and another begins, moving back to the first home I purchased nearly a decade ago. And oddly enough, I'm back working for a new version of the company I worked for back then. But it only looks the same. I've changed, and my life has changed in a myriad of ways.
And now I start the physical renewal process called remodeling. New paint, new carpet, updating things here and there, adjusting, meddling, tampering with the little pieces of reality that form the four walls of my sanctuary. I've been in limbo for over a year.....living with my brother, my things in storage, my life on hold. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting....
I feel like I can hardly catch my breath, that I can't get enough air, now that the waiting is almost over. My stuff is en route. I have the carpet picked out. I know what I want to do, and I want it done *yesterday*. I'm ready. Ready to take action. Ready to be done with it all. Ready to start fresh.
But I can't.....I still have endings to finish, things to do, pieces of deadwood from my life to be sloughed off.
Maybe tomorrow.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Spontaneity Be Damned
When did I get a life?
Normally I start thinking about plans for the weekend around Wednesday or Thursday, yet for some reason I have plans for nearly every weekend between now and the end of summer. I'm remodeling my condo, moving, going camping, then there's the Mariners (3 games), Harry Potter (the book), Harry Potter (the movie), birthday parties times three, probably river rafting with my cousins from Africa on their way to Venezuela, wine-tasting, motorcycling. I've got three groups of people I'm going out with fairly regularly, plus individual friends.
Not to mention this is THE summer of sequel movies - SpiderMan 3 just came out, Fantastic 4 - Rise of the Silver Surfer, Transformers, Live Free or Die Hard, Shrek 3, Pirates Of The Caribbean 3 , Rush Hour 3, and of course - Harry Potter.
In some ways, it's very cool and in others - it's tiring just *thinking* about it. But unlike my life of a couple of years ago, my plans are not centered around surviving funerals, surgery, hurricanes & other natural disasters. I'll take it!
--BT
Normally I start thinking about plans for the weekend around Wednesday or Thursday, yet for some reason I have plans for nearly every weekend between now and the end of summer. I'm remodeling my condo, moving, going camping, then there's the Mariners (3 games), Harry Potter (the book), Harry Potter (the movie), birthday parties times three, probably river rafting with my cousins from Africa on their way to Venezuela, wine-tasting, motorcycling. I've got three groups of people I'm going out with fairly regularly, plus individual friends.
Not to mention this is THE summer of sequel movies - SpiderMan 3 just came out, Fantastic 4 - Rise of the Silver Surfer, Transformers, Live Free or Die Hard, Shrek 3, Pirates Of The Caribbean 3 , Rush Hour 3, and of course - Harry Potter.
In some ways, it's very cool and in others - it's tiring just *thinking* about it. But unlike my life of a couple of years ago, my plans are not centered around surviving funerals, surgery, hurricanes & other natural disasters. I'll take it!
--BT
Friday, May 11, 2007
I Wish I Had Cancer
That's what Richard said to me one day, and he meant it.
Richard was an odd duck that I worked with back in Texas. The year was 1994. He was a few years older than me, maybe 30-35 years. He grew up in a rural area, east of Dallas, had travelled around the world, and just recently had come home to live. Or die, as the case may be.
He'd never married, but came close once. His fiancee had been killed in an auto accident a few months before their wedding. It was an event he would live to fully grieve twice in his life.
His father had been an Over The Road (OTR) driver for many years, and loved the open road. He wanted Richard to follow in his footsteps, and made him promise to try it for two years. He did, and hated every minute of it. But out of love for his family, and respect for his father, he gave it the full two years, to the day.
For a while, he was a customs agent, working along the border. Now THAT was a job he loved - there's a certain amount of power & authority that came with it that made him feel good. He described, with a bit of glee, some incidents where he got the upper hand with people who came through - he could search, confiscate and destroy property with abandon, without the legal constraints that hinder the police. No search warrant needed!
Something happened - he never said what - and a group of them were forced to 'retire', and change their names. He thought about it for a while, and chose a new identity. The day he showed up in court for the name change, he made a spur of the moment decision, and chose the Judge's last name instead for his new life.
One day he was on an airplane, sitting next to a priest. They got to chatting, and the Priest invited him to Hawaii to work in his mission - room & board provided, plus a small stipend for living expenses. Poverty to be sure, but Hawaii nonetheless! He lived there for about four years, enjoying the island life, the sunshine, the breezes and the people. It was there he met the young woman who changed his life.
She gave him AIDS.
Back then, AIDS was a death sentence. It had really only been around about ten years, and there wasn't much that was known about controlling it, living with it. His family was there for him, taking care of him, being with him through the final days, in many ways but one.
AIDS had a reputation of being 'the Gay Disease', and getting it (especially in homophobic Texas) held a certain stigma, and embarrassment that other diseases didn't have. His family was ashamed of him. He might as well have had leprosy, and been banished to a leper colony for all the support and understanding he received at home. The man who sacrificed two years of his life to live his father's dream was suddenly the family's nightmare.
At first, he told the people at work that he had cancer. My brother had died of cancer, and my mother was going through it, so I knew that was a lie. From the lesions he had, I'd already guessed the truth the day he decided to confess. We accepted him, and supported him as he went through his trials, and for a while - we were his family.
When we talked about regrets, choices in life, and the left-turns that come along, he grieved for his lost love. You can't live your life on what ifs, but sometimes you have to wonder - would he be dying today if she had lived?
"I wish I had cancer", he said. "I've lived a full life, and don't want to ask for more....but I wish I could give my family a respectable death." That really struck me - that even at this late date, he felt like his family's love was conditional. He left email for all of us the day he quit, little pieces of humor, shared stories and inside jokes.
My wish is that everyone who dies of an insidious disease - whether it be AIDS or cancer, morbid obesity or diabetes - has lived their life to the fullest, knows unconditional love, and feels sure that their death is a respectable one.
It may be too much to expect, but it's never too much to ask.
--BT
Richard was an odd duck that I worked with back in Texas. The year was 1994. He was a few years older than me, maybe 30-35 years. He grew up in a rural area, east of Dallas, had travelled around the world, and just recently had come home to live. Or die, as the case may be.
He'd never married, but came close once. His fiancee had been killed in an auto accident a few months before their wedding. It was an event he would live to fully grieve twice in his life.
His father had been an Over The Road (OTR) driver for many years, and loved the open road. He wanted Richard to follow in his footsteps, and made him promise to try it for two years. He did, and hated every minute of it. But out of love for his family, and respect for his father, he gave it the full two years, to the day.
For a while, he was a customs agent, working along the border. Now THAT was a job he loved - there's a certain amount of power & authority that came with it that made him feel good. He described, with a bit of glee, some incidents where he got the upper hand with people who came through - he could search, confiscate and destroy property with abandon, without the legal constraints that hinder the police. No search warrant needed!
Something happened - he never said what - and a group of them were forced to 'retire', and change their names. He thought about it for a while, and chose a new identity. The day he showed up in court for the name change, he made a spur of the moment decision, and chose the Judge's last name instead for his new life.
One day he was on an airplane, sitting next to a priest. They got to chatting, and the Priest invited him to Hawaii to work in his mission - room & board provided, plus a small stipend for living expenses. Poverty to be sure, but Hawaii nonetheless! He lived there for about four years, enjoying the island life, the sunshine, the breezes and the people. It was there he met the young woman who changed his life.
She gave him AIDS.
Back then, AIDS was a death sentence. It had really only been around about ten years, and there wasn't much that was known about controlling it, living with it. His family was there for him, taking care of him, being with him through the final days, in many ways but one.
AIDS had a reputation of being 'the Gay Disease', and getting it (especially in homophobic Texas) held a certain stigma, and embarrassment that other diseases didn't have. His family was ashamed of him. He might as well have had leprosy, and been banished to a leper colony for all the support and understanding he received at home. The man who sacrificed two years of his life to live his father's dream was suddenly the family's nightmare.
At first, he told the people at work that he had cancer. My brother had died of cancer, and my mother was going through it, so I knew that was a lie. From the lesions he had, I'd already guessed the truth the day he decided to confess. We accepted him, and supported him as he went through his trials, and for a while - we were his family.
When we talked about regrets, choices in life, and the left-turns that come along, he grieved for his lost love. You can't live your life on what ifs, but sometimes you have to wonder - would he be dying today if she had lived?
"I wish I had cancer", he said. "I've lived a full life, and don't want to ask for more....but I wish I could give my family a respectable death." That really struck me - that even at this late date, he felt like his family's love was conditional. He left email for all of us the day he quit, little pieces of humor, shared stories and inside jokes.
My wish is that everyone who dies of an insidious disease - whether it be AIDS or cancer, morbid obesity or diabetes - has lived their life to the fullest, knows unconditional love, and feels sure that their death is a respectable one.
It may be too much to expect, but it's never too much to ask.
--BT
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
The Sound Of Dolphins
Have you ever heard the sound dolphins make when they are chattering? Keep that in mind.
Three of us were talking today in the cube farm. One of my co-workers was describing the insane relationship her daughter was just getting out of....one where she discovered her husband was cheating on her, and the husband of the other woman called *her* wanting to discuss it. It reminded me of a boyfriend I had years ago.
He really was a great boyfriend, at least until....well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Very comfortable to be around, sexy, passionate, intelligent. I'd known three of his ex-girlfriends, met his kids, his niece, been to his house, hung out with him at events. Called him at work all the time, spent numerous evenings together. He knew most of my friends, hung out with my roommate. Things were going quite well.
So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered ON VALENTINE'S DAY that my boyfriend of eight months was *married*.
Upon hearing this, the other co-worker, Mel, clamped her hand over her mouth, and made this 'omigodomigodomigod' kind of squeal in a cross between shock & horror! One of the guys (who hadn't been involved in the convo) IM'd me "What was that? It sounded like dolphins!"
Now we know what the dolphins are saying......and why they laugh at us. :)
--BT
Three of us were talking today in the cube farm. One of my co-workers was describing the insane relationship her daughter was just getting out of....one where she discovered her husband was cheating on her, and the husband of the other woman called *her* wanting to discuss it. It reminded me of a boyfriend I had years ago.
He really was a great boyfriend, at least until....well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Very comfortable to be around, sexy, passionate, intelligent. I'd known three of his ex-girlfriends, met his kids, his niece, been to his house, hung out with him at events. Called him at work all the time, spent numerous evenings together. He knew most of my friends, hung out with my roommate. Things were going quite well.
So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered ON VALENTINE'S DAY that my boyfriend of eight months was *married*.
Upon hearing this, the other co-worker, Mel, clamped her hand over her mouth, and made this 'omigodomigodomigod' kind of squeal in a cross between shock & horror! One of the guys (who hadn't been involved in the convo) IM'd me "What was that? It sounded like dolphins!"
Now we know what the dolphins are saying......and why they laugh at us. :)
--BT
Saturday, May 5, 2007
In The Beginning...
Life doesn't always make sense or go in straight lines.
I've been online since 1988. Not continuously, although at times it feels like it. (I *do* sleep on occasion). I first logged onto Blogspot two years ago to comment on my cousin's blog, "Bronx To Timbuktu" . It's the story of their life in Africa, and while I come back regularly to read their (and others) blogs, it wasn't until today that I decided to start my own. Not sure what took me so long - I'm usually fairly prolific when it comes to writing. In fact, one board I'm on, my posts alone account for five percent of the total traffic.....and there are thousands of members there.
Unicorns and Strangers Things comes from the early days - when I first logged on a BBS, before the Internet existed for public consumption. Back then, women online were a rarity and there were more than a few boards where I was one of only two or three females who had EVER logged on. The first time I logged onto a board, I didn't know anyone, and the sysop insisted that all new users fill out a little questionnaire with info like:
Real Name
Address
Phone #
Birth date
Nothing personal, y'know. Being a rather private person, I decided to answer the questions.....just not with MY information. So I gave him my grandmother's name......and birth date (including the year, which I believe was 1885). My phone# was 1-900-976-DEAD. I forget what address I gave him. He of course recognized that the info was bogus, and (at first) wouldn't give me access to the full board - only to email people.
So, now what? I'd never been on a BBS before. I certainly didn't know anyone. Who was I going to email? For most people, the answer probably would have been "nobody". Instead, I scanned through the list, and picked a random stranger whose handle I liked, and started messing with the guy. For the first few months (yes, months *lol*), I played guessing games with him - making him try to guess who I was, and emailing whatever odd thoughts crossed my mind. One of those posts was entitled "Unicorns & Stranger Things", and it stuck.
Of course, the answer of who I was, was impossible to guess since he truly was a random stranger.....but we eventually became friends. And it turned out he was also friends with the sysop......who then decided I was cool, and gave me access anyway. Me and my dead grandmother. Ha!
When someone asks me today where I expect to be in five years, I still have no idea how to answer that question - because I know there's no way I could have imagined TODAY from where I was five years ago, or five years before that. Five years ago, I had just bought a house in Florida. The five hurricanes, the flood, the trip to Brazil, the surgery that changed my life were nowhere on the horizon yet.
Tomorrow I take the second half of my motorcycle class and hope to pass. Next week, I think I have a date with a guy I really like. Later this year? Who knows - Beverly Hills or Brazil may be on the horizon for reconstructive surgery. I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow, much less five years from now.
Who I am, it seems, it still impossible to guess. But this time it's you who is the random stranger, and perhaps we, too, will eventually become friends.
--BT
I've been online since 1988. Not continuously, although at times it feels like it. (I *do* sleep on occasion). I first logged onto Blogspot two years ago to comment on my cousin's blog, "Bronx To Timbuktu" . It's the story of their life in Africa, and while I come back regularly to read their (and others) blogs, it wasn't until today that I decided to start my own. Not sure what took me so long - I'm usually fairly prolific when it comes to writing. In fact, one board I'm on, my posts alone account for five percent of the total traffic.....and there are thousands of members there.
Unicorns and Strangers Things comes from the early days - when I first logged on a BBS, before the Internet existed for public consumption. Back then, women online were a rarity and there were more than a few boards where I was one of only two or three females who had EVER logged on. The first time I logged onto a board, I didn't know anyone, and the sysop insisted that all new users fill out a little questionnaire with info like:
Real Name
Address
Phone #
Birth date
Nothing personal, y'know. Being a rather private person, I decided to answer the questions.....just not with MY information. So I gave him my grandmother's name......and birth date (including the year, which I believe was 1885). My phone# was 1-900-976-DEAD. I forget what address I gave him. He of course recognized that the info was bogus, and (at first) wouldn't give me access to the full board - only to email people.
So, now what? I'd never been on a BBS before. I certainly didn't know anyone. Who was I going to email? For most people, the answer probably would have been "nobody". Instead, I scanned through the list, and picked a random stranger whose handle I liked, and started messing with the guy. For the first few months (yes, months *lol*), I played guessing games with him - making him try to guess who I was, and emailing whatever odd thoughts crossed my mind. One of those posts was entitled "Unicorns & Stranger Things", and it stuck.
Of course, the answer of who I was, was impossible to guess since he truly was a random stranger.....but we eventually became friends. And it turned out he was also friends with the sysop......who then decided I was cool, and gave me access anyway. Me and my dead grandmother. Ha!
When someone asks me today where I expect to be in five years, I still have no idea how to answer that question - because I know there's no way I could have imagined TODAY from where I was five years ago, or five years before that. Five years ago, I had just bought a house in Florida. The five hurricanes, the flood, the trip to Brazil, the surgery that changed my life were nowhere on the horizon yet.
Tomorrow I take the second half of my motorcycle class and hope to pass. Next week, I think I have a date with a guy I really like. Later this year? Who knows - Beverly Hills or Brazil may be on the horizon for reconstructive surgery. I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow, much less five years from now.
Who I am, it seems, it still impossible to guess. But this time it's you who is the random stranger, and perhaps we, too, will eventually become friends.
--BT
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