Diary of a LAN Manager

2011-01-31T09:33:00.002-06:00

Here I stand again, speaking to an empty room. My thoughts aren't worth the cyberspace they would take up if I cared to tweet or post to Facebook, but here I stand anyway. I had no idea how long it had been since my muse had forced me to write. I used to write almost daily, poetry mostly, when I was younger and believed that someone cared what I had to say. I wanted to be e.e. cummings or T.S. Eliot or anyone who seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin to pour out his emotions onto a blank page. It took me a few years to realize that the writers who filled my pantheon of literary deities were not that comfortable after all, but wrote because not writing was more painful than the spilling of emotion. So I think I will take up my keyboard once more, wade out into the battle, and write.

2010-06-18T13:22:00.000-05:00

Spring made a brief appearance in Nashville, then proceeded to try to wash us down the Cumberland before exiting somewhere mid-May and letting summer in early. We skipped June and July and proceeded straight to August - or at least the heat would lead you to believe it. Time passes in such a blur. My youngest turned twenty, my nephew turned one, and it's been a year since Momma passed away. I try not to dwell on it, honestly. But some days are harder than others. Mother's Day was hard. Her birthday was hard - even my birthday was a little tough to get through, considering that all I could seem to think about was that last year I spent my birthday in a funeral home. I think she would be laughing at me now, though, if she were here, as I try to tend to my mini-garden on the deck. Last year I got one lonely tomato from my two tomato plants; this year, I have enough green beans to almost be worth cooking up, but the tomatoes don't look promising at all. I think I'll go home and pick them, throw them in a pot of water, and add a piece of bacon for seasoning, just for her.

2010-04-07T16:25:00.002-05:00

Four seventeen thirty-eight. No, these are not the winning numbers in the lottery; they are the words I heard my mother struggle to speak each time the various staff members at the clinic and in the hospital asked her to confirm who she was. Four seventeen thirty-eight. It was easier than trying to make them understand April, since the page they were looking at had the numeric convention of her date of birth. Four seventeen thirty-eight.

April 17, 1938 was Easter Sunday. My grandfather was said to have called his firstborn his little Easter Bunny; my grandmother refused to let him name the child Bunny and settled on Bonnie instead. I don't remember my grandfather much, except that he had a huge smile, a booming laugh, and that he smoked cigarettes pretty much until his last day on earth in 1967 when he died of lung cancer. But I have no doubt that he loved his little "Bunny" very much, as did my grandmother.

Because Easter is a moving holiday, it never fell on April 17th again while she was alive. Her dream seemed to be to have one of her grandchildren share her birthday with her, and both my sister and I missed the mark by a few days. Heather was born on the 16th, the Monday after Easter in 1990; Quinton was born on April 10, 2009 on Good Friday. It's funny how we seem to circle back to Easter.

Easter Sunday was beautiful this year. Everything is in full bloom, the air is unseasonably warm. I think I am beginning to feel the thaw, finally. There was no family dinner, no gathering of loved ones around our table, just me, Michael, and the dog to enjoy our ham, mashed potatoes, and steamed asparagus. But that was okay, really. I accept that my children have their own lives, families, and friends. I have to admit, though, that I missed Momma's smile, her laugh, her snide comments and sideways compliments that made her who she was.

I'm still grieving, but I believe it's getting better. Yet in my head, I keep hearing the same thing over and over: four seventeen thirty-eight.

2010-02-02T11:09:00.002-06:00

On the ride into work this morning I let myself be lost in the foggy mist and enjoyed the last of the snow from this past weekend. It will no doubt be gone soon, soaked into the ground as if it never existed. Snow for me has always held a deeper meaning. I am happiest when it snows, yet I couldn't begin to explain why. So I looked out the window, imagining romantic characters striding across the pure white expanses, and just breathed in the beauty. Snow wraps around the seemingly dead landscape, and whispers promises of rebirth and renewal as it gently cradles the world in its soft, white blanket.

2010-01-23T16:52:00.002-06:00

I thought about deleting all the past posts - none of them have any meaning to anyone but me anyway- but I couldn't do it. Let them sit there, unread and unremembered. There were no posts in 2009. There was nothing positive I could find to say, although there were happy moments mixed with the sad. The sweet mixed with the bitter. The birth of my nephew, the death of my mother, the numbness that followed, and lingers. The start of my journey towards an MBA, the job that no longer inspires me, the purchase of an Airstream to help bring me back to center. That was 2009. This is 2010. It's time to turn and face forward, and soldier on.

2008-09-09T13:30:00.000-05:00

Bon mot for the day: We tend to live in the past when we can't see much of a future.

2008-08-14T20:00:00.002-05:00

"O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us!"

It has occurred to me of late that I've spent most of my life knocking around like the proverbial bull in a china shop, leaving hurt feelings and destruction behind me as I go. If I go back and analyze conversations and situations I've been in, I can see how some people I've been around could easily believe I'm a jerk. I cannot make any excuses for my behavior. To say that I didn't mean to be rude or hateful isn't sufficient. To claim cluelessness is to deny that my behavior was my fault. I have no way to make any of it right, nor is there any reason for anyone to believe that my future behavior wouldn't be just as offensive to some. I'm trying to make amends. I just don't know what else to say or do.

2008-08-11T13:32:00.002-05:00

Like a bad penny....

We used to scuba dive as our hobby, a hobby which eventually led to the procurement/construction of a small dive trailer to haul four sets of gear and four cylinders. It was a simple but elegant design - a box on a single axle frame, with the beginnings of a mural painted on both sides, and dive flags at either end. The kids had helped paint it, with Stephen taking special pains with the sharks.

When we moved to Nashville, we sold it. We didn't dive as often, and we had no place to store it. Nearly ten years have passed since that October in '99 when we came up here, and I hadn't thought much about the trailer. I thought I had seen it the last time we went to Greenfield, but I wasn't sure. Then Saturday my mother-in-law called to say the neighbor across the street had our trailer for sale. The neighbor was asking a certain price, and we offered a little less. She called back later to say it was ours for the picking up.

Sunday we made the trip to fetch it. Oddly enough, except for the interior racks/shelving being cut out, it looked exactly the same. The paint had faded, but our names were still painted on the back. The tires hadn't been replaced, so that was the first order of business, but it bounced all the way to Nashville, and we have a piece of our family history back.

2008-07-21T16:43:00.002-05:00

Cancer sucks. I'm not whining, I'm just stating facts. It sucks. It doesn't play by the rules, and it certainly doesn't fight fair. When they said Momma's cancer was back, Iwas frustrated. She already fought this thing. It should have been the end of it, not just the beginning. When they said it was just in her lungs, I was slightly encouraged. There's no cure, but there can be control - it's possible to keep it beaten into submission. But they didn't tell us the whole truth, and they may not have known the whole truth, so I'll try not to lash out at the people I believe are trying to help her, not hurt her. The MRI painted a much darker picture. Three spots on the brain. And oh-by-the-way, what are you doing about the tumors on the spine? WHAT tumors on the spine? Who knew? When did they know? Why didn't they communicate this? But again, it does no good to bash the people who are trying to help. So a new battle plan has to be executed in this fight for her life. Fifteen days of potentially brain scrambling radiation. Three treatments down, twelve to go. Add in who knows how many radiation treatments on the tumors on the spine. Then we do six weeks/months/who the hell knows how many rounds of chemo to handle the cancer in her lungs. I'll say it again. Cancer, my friends, sucks.

2008-07-15T14:33:00.002-05:00

I have a picture on my desk of my dog. I don't keep photos of the kids. I should, but it's something I didn't do before, and while I have them at home, I just don't do it here at work. But I have a photo of Bear, stuck in a gaudy green magnetic "My Dog Is Incredible" frame I got for signing up for a newsletter. The photo was taken back in Greenfield, probably in '97 or '98. She was maybe three years old, tops. I used to joke with people that she liked that picture best, because it was taken when she still had her girlish figure and she didn't weigh the 120 she did five years later. She's all smiles, contented lounging on the floor, ears perked up. It's the way I want to remember her, full of life, contentment, and just happy to be a part of the family.

Today was a rough day. I didn't want to do it. But I knew it was really past time, and that nothing the vet could do could undo aging. She was 13, her hips and muscle mass was fading fast, and she hurt all the time. We finally made the call yesterday to schedule the final appointment. She didn't sleep last night - she kept banging her head against the bed and the floor, twitching as if she were having seizures. When we came home at lunch she was alseep in the kitchen, and I realized just how gaunt she had gotten. It took nearly ten minutes to walk her off the deck and get her into the car. No hopping up - those days were long past. The vet and her assistant were kind, and took care of her as if she were their own dog. It wasn't easy for me, or for Michael, but we're glad the suffering is over.

If there is a dog heaven, then there's a beautiful white shepherd there today, chasing squirrels and running through the sprinkler system, all smiles, and happy.

2008-06-23T15:33:00.002-05:00

A random glance through the local free paper recently led to the realization that Chris Botti was coming to play the Ryman. Over my protests, my daughter purchased tickets, and so it was that Wednesday evening was spent in awe, and my iTunes are still stuck on my Botti playlist. Music may be my second language, but I still don't know the words to describe jazz. My initial fear was that he would be some blow-hard (pardon the pun), stuck on himself pretty boy who only wanted the spotlight on him. How wrong I was. He celebrated everyone's contribution onstage, was self-deprecating, and was genuinely fun to watch. It's almost as if he had come to play in my living room, entertaining a few hundred of my friends. We were thoroughly entertained by a master showman and trumpet player, and his supporting band members. And I will never look at Google's "did you mean" the same way again.

2008-06-16T14:16:00.002-05:00

So I had my summer all planned. Heather graduates: Check. Heather gets wisdom teeth removed: Check. Heather schedules knee surgery to clean up a torn meniscus, and I schedule to take a week off for her recovery, with plans to work on a wedding dress for her older sister: Check. Right before my birthday, all my planning took a detour. I know people think I'm being flip when I say that life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans, but it's just a variation of the old Irish saying, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." Well, I guess He's laughing up a storm. Momma's cancer is back, with a vengeance, and has moved into her lungs. I convinced her to seek treatment here, and I'm in the process of moving her in with me. And that week off? I bought the material. I'll get started on the dress later. I will get it done. But I have other things to take care of as well, and I'm determined not to let things get me down. So what if none of this is what we planned. We'll get through it, and we'll make the best of it, some way, somehow.

2008-05-27T10:28:00.002-05:00

Oh, the mistakes you'll make....

Heather graduated recently. All three of my kids made it through high school, and the older two more or less put themselves through college. I don't take credit, but I am proud of all of them. At Heather's graduation, which was more variety show than "Pomp and Circumstance, ad nauseum," the kids did a production of Dr. Seuss' "Oh, the Places You Will Go." It was amazingly professional, even with understanding the caliber of student who attends this school. Heather's performance with the select group of orchestra members was likewise phenomenal (and yes, I'd say that, even if she weren't my kid). But the Seuss performance was very appropriate, and reminded me of some things I've told my kids, but failed to remember myself, chief of which is that life isn't fair. Fair is a weather condition. Sometimes you'll be surrounded by friends and family who support you. Sometimes you'll be alone. Sometimes you'll do great. Sometimes you'll screw up and have to deal with the consequences. But no matter what, giving up isn't the right answer. You have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going, even if it means going on alone.

2008-04-29T14:41:00.002-05:00

The cafeteria is crowded with employees and "visiting" families - a euphemism for suffering, because most have that look of pain mixed with hope. The drone of hundreds of conversations is near-deafening. A young man with a hard hat walks up to the piano in the corner, sits down, and carefully places his hat on the floor. Those who notice exchange worried looks; he's wearing a tattered West Coast Choppers sweatshirt and a red bandana wrapped around his head. Gently, he raises his hands, closes his eyes in concentration, tilts his head slightly, then begins to play "As Time Goes By". There is no parody in his playing - he plays with love and emotion, never missing a note, carefully controlling the tempo, leading his keyed partner in a tender dance.

2008-02-12T08:25:00.000-06:00

"Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant"
"Least said, soonest mended"
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can put my heart through the shreddder"

Words have power. No one denies that. Words can build, words can break. Words chosen in anger can crumble a relationship of many years. Words taken out of context to build support for an argument can be devastating. The stronger my feelings are, the less I want to say for fear of saying the "wrong" thing, for fear of being misunderstood. When I snap under the pressure and try to vent, like a pressure cooker that's been cranked up too high, usually everyone involved, myself included, gets burned.

I've been publicly humiliated enough. I surrender. I'm tired of fighting. I give up. I'm the witch you say I am if it will make all of this stop.

2007-05-30T14:28:00.000-05:00

"I don't have time to be sick. There's just too much going on right now." How many times do we say that? How many times do we ignore the warning signs - Slow! Yield! Warning! - until we hit the big red STOP! or else? We tend to pay attention to that one - most of us, anyway. So my stomach hurt. So what. According to the ads on TV, I should just take a dose of Pepto and I'd be right as rain by morning. I ignored it. Worked through it. Popped Tylenol and blamed it on stress or maybe bad chicken. I was fine. It was Memorial Day, and I was GOING to feel better!

Saturday I couldn't cough without crying. It occurred to me that it hurt this bad when my appendix was near the rupture point - but it was gone, and the pain was on my left. There's really nothing over there to hurt like this, right? I was trying to tough my way through another day when my mother called. It was bad news - my aunt Mildred had passed away during the night, after fighting breast cancer and lung cancer for several years. It didn't help that she was blind and that her husband had died the year before, or that she was living in some state run facility where apparently it was too much trouble to go help someone get to the dining room. Then Momma asked what was wrong with me. I explained the pain, briefly, and told her it was no big deal. In her typical no-bullshit way, she said, "You work for a hospital, damn it. Get your ass down there." So I caved in. Fine - I'll go to the clinic. They'll tell me it's a gas bubble and I can get on with getting better and enjoying my holiday.

At the clinic we listed the litany of symptoms: pain getting progressively worse for the past four days, decided that it couldn't be anything good and came here. Yes, I've had a low grade fever. Yes, it hurts when you do that. No, I haven't thrown up and my BM's seem normal. Can I please have a prescription and go home now? No? Why do I need a CAT scan? No, I don't want to go to the hospital across the interstate. I'll go to the ER at Vanderbilt - like Momma told me to.

So I'm in the ER. I get fast-tracked - this surprises me. It's just a belly ache - I know the doc at the clinic said it was diverticulitis, but really - it's no big deal. More listing of of symptoms. More poking and prodding. I hate their pain scale - on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, how's your pain? I pick a seven - seems like a lucky number, and I'm not exactly screaming or doubled over, so it seems a good guess. Bloodwork - IV - and finally, morphine :) Off to the lovely CAT scan we go, then back to the room, where shortly thereafter, I have a definitive diagnosis - diverticulitis. Great - can I have my prescription and go home now? What do you mean you want to watch me overnight? I'll go home and be good. No chance, eh? Well, maybe if you watch me I'll do a trick.

The morphine and the lack of food took the fight out of me, though, so overnight stretched into Tuesday morning. All I remember is no food until Monday at lunch, and that vanilla pudding never tasted so good, and that I hate IV's and I hate poking and prodding and questions about bowel movements. I'm home now, apparently after dodging a surgical bullet. I'm tired. So I think I'll pay attention to this warning sign and go take a nap.

2007-05-02T14:53:00.000-05:00

A brief discussion of the rights of grandparents.... with apologies for those whom this might offend.

My friend Mike has a lovely little grandchild. His granddaughter was born to his son and his son's live-in (they opted not to marry so as not to mess up her college funding). Subsequently, the two decided they didn't want to spend the rest of their lives together, so the son began proceedings to establish legal parental rights. This process has not gone well, and the girl's mother also wants to block Mike and his wife from access to the child. So off to court they go - and I can't say that I blame them. They want what's best for this child, and the mom isn't quite meeting their standards.

But I'm not blameless in this discussion either. My children had three sets of grandparents, so to speak. My husband's parents, my mother, and my father and his wife and family. Out of respect to my mother, and because I never quite repaired the relationship with my father after I turned 17, we didn't spend much time with my father and his family. I can count the visits pretty much on both hands over a span of 20+ years. I have a half-brother I rarely acknowledge, partly because he's only two years older than Stephen. In retrospect, I realize I made a mistake, but in my desire not to make waves, not to disturb the status quo, not to create a scene, I opted to limit those visits. I'm sorry that I made those choices all those years ago. Daddy had a right to be more than just the guy who sent money on birthdays and at Christmas.

That's the world we live in, though. When the nuclear family went, well, "nuclear", and divorce became the norm rather than the exception; when extended family came to mean all your friends instead of all your blood relatives; when "blood is thicker than water" became a quaint phrase instead of a truism, then I guess the rights of grandparents disappeared too. They no longer have the right to say "my" grandchild just because of blood relation. Frankly, that's just sad.

2007-04-27T13:33:00.000-05:00

Today they held the parade for the 2007 World's Biggest Fish Fry in my hometown of Paris, TN. It's a significant "floating" date for me, because on Fish Fry Friday eighteen years ago, I was in an accident while on the way to take Stephen to ride on a float in the parade. I had stayed up until past 1:00am putting the finishing touches on his sailor outfit that I had made, and maybe lack of sleep clouded my judgement just a bit. We were late. Anyone who knows me knows that's one of my trademarks. I'm always late - time management escapes me, which is why I'd been up late working on the suit. It was a beautiful, clear, April morning, and we were just about halfway between Greenfield and McKenzie, going through a wide spot in the road known as Pillowville. A truck had pulled out in front of me, going about 30 in a 55. Ahead was a passing zone, and nothing was coming. So I did what people do when they're running late and don't want to do 30 all the way to McKenzie - I signaled and swung out to pass. The only turn off was to my right, so I didn't really hesitate. I hadn't quite gotten the front end of my station wagon even with his back bumper when he tapped his brakes to slow down.

From here on, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. I kept passing, but just as I pulled even with him, I could see him turning the steering wheel of the truck, turning it in my direction. Apparently he was turning into what we refer to as a "field road" that I hadn't been aware of, and we were between him and his destination. The impact was brutal. The front tire was ripped from the car and went sailing to the left into the cornfield. The car followed, with me hanging onto the steering wheel for dear life, since I couldn't actually control the car. Because it was a cornfield, the road sloped downward to it, and I could feel the right side rising higher and higher, until I was pretty sure it was going to roll over. That's when I caught the phone pole just behind my door. It countered the rollover, and we continued on until the front end plowed into the ground, breaking the cars frame, knocking the motor off the mounting blocks, and shattering the windshield. As the glass dust and the dirt from the field settled around us, I cut the motor off, removed the key from the ignition, unhooked the seatbelt, and opened my door. The screaming from Miranda and Stephen reassured me that they would be fine, especially since both had been strapped in. I got out, looking for the other guy, because I had no idea where he and his truck had gone. Turns out he ended up on the other side of the road, but was relatively okay.

We, on the other hand, were only so-so. Stephen had a gash at his temple from the handle on the little vent in the side window and bruises from the seatbelt he had JUST put back on after I looked in the rear view and caught him leaning over the back seat; Miranda was just bruised and traumatized. I had a bruised sternum, bruises on my hip bones, and my neck would never quite be the same. The car, needless to say, was a total loss. We still have pictures of what it looked like after they towed it to the junkyard. It's amazing that we were all okay. Funny how I remember it so clearly. Funny how much time has passed.

2007-04-26T13:24:00.000-05:00

When I first heard about blogging, I thought it was cool. I had friends at work with LiveJournal, and I found reading their thoughts, looking at the things they found funny, and listening to their favorite songs to be more entertaining than anything else I could do on the web. I seldom find funny things on the web by myself. I find them because someone else saw them first.

Sooooo.... since my childhood aspiration was to become an author, I thought it would be a perfect fit. I could finally put what I was thinking down on paper, and pretend I was a real writer. Sadly, I realize what a hack I am. Because music is such an integral part of how I communicate, I find myself quoting song lyrics to express a feeling, rather than coming up with any original thoughts of my own. I find myself quoting poetry for the same reason. I'm afraid to put down what I really think or really feel because no doubt I'd step on someone's toes. It's very constricting. Creativity is stifled under these conditions. I might as well log in and say "The weather today is lovely. We enjoyed a nice rain this morning, and everything looks green and fresh." Blah - even that would probably piss somebody off.

So what should I do? I'm open for suggestions.

2007-04-24T14:09:00.000-05:00

We joined a minority a couple of weeks ago - we gave up satellite TV and didn't replace it with cable. Instead, we bought a low-profile antenna and the 5 or so channels it brings. It's not that DirecTV is a bad thing - it's just that after thinking about it, and calculating how much the latest rate hike would actually cost on an annual basis, we couldn't justify the expense. Yes, I love Mythbusters and How It's Made as much as the next person, not to mention anything on Food Network as long as it doesn't include Emeril, but really - how much is that worth? Is it worth $60 a month? Really? Network TV still sucks, don't get me wrong, but considering that Numbers and CSI-Miami are about all I watch on a regular basis anyway, why would I pay for it?

2007-04-19T15:50:00.000-05:00

I've never been a girlie girl. I believe I've established that. But this week I've been thinking of my friend Sara, and how she once rolled her eyes at my poor chapped lips and handed me a Revlon lipstick. "Use this - it's better than Chapstick." I was in my thirties and it was the only lipstick I had in my makeup bag for the longest. I don't remember how long I kept it, but I finally tossed it and replaced it with something from Avon, or Covergirl. Needless to say I never really learned the fine art of makeup, nor do I still grasp the need for lipstick. I've never even used up an entire lipstick - I usually toss them after a year or so. But I keep one in my desk drawer - a lovely, rich gingerspice color - which I occasionally put on before a meeting, or when my lips are chapped and I can't find my Chapstick, or when I think of Sara.

2007-04-17T10:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my daughter's seventeenth birthday. I had planned on posting something, but the news got in the way. How do we protect ourselves and our loved ones when someone goes over some edge mentally? Can we? I know it comes as a surprise to my friends who think I'm a raving Democrat that I do, in fact, believe in the right to bear arms (and while I joke that I'm a card carrying member of the NRA, I'm not). Would gun control really have helped, or would this young man still have found a way to get his hands on a weapon? I don't have any answers. My heart goes out to the families of the victims of this tragedy - including the family of this poor, disturbed young man.

2007-04-13T15:47:00.000-05:00

I don't like funerals. I'm not sure that they're truly helpful to the family, but it is an expected part of the process. It just seems to me that their only true purpose is to serve as a vivid reminder that life is short, and that we never get enough days to do the things we want.

I also don't like arguing with people. I think discussion is good, as long as its productive and doesn't devolve into namecalling, but I've always considered myself a peacemaker. I thought that was my job, to mediate and try to keep the peace between warring parties; it was a by-product of my parent's divorce. Perhaps that's the root of the passive-agressive tendency - I don't feel I can say what I really think, so I try to find a diplomatic way to say it without hurting anyone's feelings. Apparently I'm not as good at it as I think, so perhaps I should consider a more direct approach.

The funeral was moving, and I'm glad that I went. But it does make me wonder what my eulogy will be. I wonder what impact if any I've made on this planet. I wonder if it's too late to try to make up for lost time.

2007-04-09T08:28:00.000-05:00

Yesterday a close family friend of ours lost his battle with leukemia. Without his assistance we would never have started our own business; without him we might not have succeeded in many things. He would not want us to sit and cry, but he's not here to tell me that. Funeral services are Wednedsday at 2:00.

2007-04-06T08:42:00.000-05:00

Today is Good Friday. It doesn't feel much like a holiday, and I'm sitting at work. It feels strange still to work on a religious holiday, but here I am. I have no plans for Easter this year. Unlike most feast days, I've not been notified that I'm hosting some kind of dinner, which is why no one has received any invitations. I'm not really planning on driving to West Tennessee to see my mother or my mother-in-law, so I guess we'll sit at home and eat TV dinners. I might buy a small ham. I just don't know yet. Heather's just about too old for Easter baskets, and I can't even remember if I got her one last year. Another in a long line of parental shortcomings and failures. Mothers are supposed to be superhuman creatures, and I just keep falling short.

2007-04-05T08:57:00.000-05:00

I've never been good with expressing emotions. I always felt that emotions were a sign of weakness - part of being raised as my father's "son", I suppose. Lately I'm having a hard time bottling up those things that bubble up when people start flinging arrows and stones. Some I deserve. Others, less so. Innocent comments get taken out of context and used to further some cause. I make a genuine post about an overwhelming feeling I have, and someone turns it into an accusation, based on some sort of internet statistic that proves I've posted in response to something else. Frankly, I don't see the connection.

I get angry more often than I used to, but I often feel like I've been kicked in the gut too. I'm not accustomed to that one. It usually brings tears. Intended kindnesses are perceived as attempts to control. And this post will be labeled as an attempt to send someone on a guilt trip - but hey - if the shoe fits, baby, wear it out.

2007-03-15T13:03:00.000-05:00

Yesterday a friend came by to show off his little bundle of joy - and what a bundle she was. I love babies. I adore babies. I'd have six more if I could, but don't panic - I can't, I won't, and I'm not begging for grandchildren. But holding that little angel, feeling her tiny toes through her little socks while I stared into those intelligent, inquisitive blue eyes that were sizing me up to see if I were good enough to hold her.... even though there was no blood relation, at that moment, if anyone had tried to lay a hand on that child, I would have responded like a crazed mother bear, and ripped his head off with a single swipe of my hand. And I would have had no regrets for doing so.

2007-03-08T13:08:00.000-06:00

Realization - I am not a goal-oriented person.
Realization - I'm working in a goal-oriented business.
Realization - If someone tells me what I need to accomplish by X date, I can generally do it.
Realization - I need to figure out how to do this for myself.

Problem - Now what? I've spent most of my life looking for what it is I want to do with my life. This was never meant to be my career, but it evolved into what I do for a living. But is it where I'm supposed to be? I'm over 40 - is it too late? Can I make this what I want it to be? Woulda-coulda-shoulda won't help. All I can do is start from this point forward. But which way to go?

2007-03-02T08:41:00.000-06:00

February is thankfully the shortest month of the year - a good thing, considering how bleak and miserable it usually is. This one, while it had its moments, didn't disappoint in that respect. Welcome to March.

2007-01-30T11:45:00.000-06:00

I'm back, after an extended mental vacation. The rant is on.

2005-12-06T11:55:00.000-06:00

Okay, let me climb up on my soapbox... Welcome, one and all, to the holiday season. Not the Christmas season, not the Hannukah season, not even Kwanzaa... but the holiday season, since so many celebrations closely coincide at the winter solstice. And in case you haven't guessed - no, I'm NOT offended when it's called a holiday tree, even though I consider myself to be Christian. Yes, I call it a Christmas tree when I see a picture of one. But I find it hard to believe the fundamentalists are getting their drawers in a bunch over what to call an object that is essentially a pagan relic that got melded into our Christmas celebration. I know it must come as a shock to my Baptist brethren, but there was no decorated Douglas fir at the the manger - no, not even so much as a cedar shrub. No holly, no mistletoe, no poinsettias. So why insist on making it a Christian symbol? It's not, folks - never was, and never will be, no matter how hard we try. It belonged to the Egyptians, the Romans, even the druids centuries before the birth of Christ. Let's just accept that fact; accept that this nation of ours, founded on religious freedoms, is the home to many, many faiths; and move on to the celebration part of this season. Happy Holidays!

2005-11-29T08:55:00.000-06:00

This may be my last post. I don't have time to write since I changed jobs and the last thing I want to do when I get home is sit in front of a computer. I'm also tired of all the "comments" which are nothing more than spam for stuff no one wants, needs, or intends to buy. While I'm blocking them from posting without my consent, it is tiresome to wade through mortgage, weight loss, and "job" posting comments to delete them. As a medium for communication, I'm thinking that blogging is overrated and I no longer feel that I have anything of value to offer.

2005-10-31T12:49:00.000-06:00

Wow. Another month in the history books. Watching the Republican regime crumble isn't nearly as much fun as I'd hoped it would be. It just makes me sad to know that most politicians are as crooked and as greedy as you can imagine them to be, regardless of their party affiliation. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and this presidency has been a case study. I'm not anti-American, but I'm against this war. I'm not anti-military; in fact, I think our military is shamefully treated as far as pay and support goes. I'm not even anti-Republican, but I think that their aims and goals are about as diametrically opposed to mine as you could get. I'm just waiting - waiting for the bubble to burst, for the recession to start, so that we can hurry up and start digging our way back out.

2005-09-21T16:30:00.000-05:00

I'm not dead yet...
It's September. I've survived the joy of hosting a foreign exchange student from France for three weeks, the anguish of watching my mother suffer through chemo, and the frustration of changing departments at work. I guess we ran Stephen off, since his summer at home evaporated about two weeks into it. And Miranda is somewhere in sunny Arizona, hopefully attending classes and keeping up her GPA. Momma's better; the second round of chemo is much kinder than the first, so she's able to drive herself to her treatments, which come weekly now instead of three weeks apart. I'm having to let go, to quit trying to control her and her life, which is what I guess I was doing in the name of caring for her. I'm still conflicted about this, and I dread the winter. We'll see how it goes. One day at a time is truly the only way you can live your life. Yes, we can and should look ahead, but we don't always see the potholes and the wrong turns that change our course so dramatically.

2005-06-27T15:00:00.000-05:00

My children think I'm an elitist because I'm happier in Nashville than I was in Greenfield. My son in particular thinks we're bragging about how well we've made it in the big city when we tell folks 'back home' how we're doing. I don't blame them, really. They have no concept of what kind of struggle it was to stay out of bankruptcy court. They haven't yet figured out that we could never have afforded college educations for them the way things were - that we were (and still are) paying off our own student loans which have been in default more times than I care to admit, mostly because when it came to putting food in their bellies or paying the bills, I made sure that they ate. As for the bragging, it's what you do when you come from a family that wasn't well respected in the community and when you were never expected to amount to anything. Yes, my father-in-law served as a police officer in that lovely little hamlet, but it got him no respect. I don't know if it was his brother Charles' success that made people look down on Bob, or his decision to join the military and move away, or what exactly. But he never belonged in Greenfield. Neither did my husband, and I certainly didn't. And if the kids felt they belonged,that's their perception. I saw them shut out of things more often than they were accepted. But I'm not an elitist. I look around the town with sadness, wishing that there was some miracle that could pull these folks out the squalor. I wish the kids had more to look forward to than a job at the plant or the sewing factory or the local quick stop. I wish the girls didn't think pregnancy was a rite of passage that somehow comes with the territory. I wish more of them could get the education they need to find the solutions to these problems. But as it stands, as long as there are teachers who don't know the proper usage of "an" in front of the word umbrella and who would argue the point, I stand my ground. Moving to Nashville was the best thing I could have done for my kids. And that doesn't make me elitist.

2005-06-21T10:04:00.000-05:00

"Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end? "

Tonight or tomorrow I head back to Momma's house. She has another round of chemo scheduled for tomorrow, which surprises me considering who much fun she had after her first dose. Three days in the hospital and two blood transfusions doesn't sound like something you'd want a person to have to do again, but cancer is very unforgiving, so the treatment is also unforgiving. Regardless, she's a strong woman, and we'll get through this. We have to. June has slipped away like most of the other months of my life, as I move from what seems to be one crisis after the other. I can't imagine having a life where I could actually have a few hours to enjoy a hobby or watch a movie, where coming home from work didn't mean starting the next project. And sleep - oh, to be able to sleep for more than six hours a night on a regular basis. But I'm just whining. It's my natural reaction to stress.

2005-06-15T14:16:00.000-05:00

One of the more uncomfortable things one can do if one is not particularly introspective is to ask oneself what will one be remembered for (in case you wonder, I hope you'll remember me as being a stickler for correct grammer... but I digress). Will those memories be about style, grace, attitude? Will they be about a difference made in another's life, a positive influence during a bad situation?

My kids will probably remember my insanity as they suffer through years of therapy to undo the damage I've done. While I like to think I've remained the calm one of their parental units, I know better. I remember most of the rants and tirades, the occasional broken dish, the tears cried in the middle of the kitchen. I also remember good things, but I'm not sure they will. What I want most is for them to realize how much I care about them, and how I want nothing more than for them to be happy in the choices they make. I want my son to know I believe in his abilities, even when he doesn't, and that I know he can make a difference in the world. I want my daughters to know that while each is different, each has amazing potential to do great things. I want all of them to be independent enough to survive alone but loving enough to need companionship.

My relationship with my parents is hardly one to hold up as an example. My father and I barely talk, while my mother and I are hammering out a new relationship based on her diagnosis. She needs me and my sister more than she ever did before, but she's not comfortable with that dependency. I understand, but in my mind this is a temporary situation which will require sacrifices from all of us to get through. Afterwards, she can go cross-country butt-naked on a bicycle if it makes her happy, and I won't say a word. But we're not there yet.

Which means that I still have time to change what they remember me for, time to balance out past mistakes, since none of us has ever found that "undo" button for life's little problems. Ten years from now I may laugh about how over-the-top everything used to send me. I certainly hope so.

2005-06-10T09:16:00.000-05:00

"In the wind we hear their laughter
In the rain we see their tears
Hear their heartbeat
We hear their heartbeat.." U2; Mothers of the Disappeared

Thanks to Geoff for reminding me that it's important to seek out friends when the darkness threatens to overwhelm. Sometimes I take myself too seriously, and sometimes I fail to remember that most grief is actually guilt in disguise. I'm saddened by Sherry's passing, but I'm also sorry for not being closer to her. And I guess that's the lesson - to quit putting up these barriers between myself and others, and accept that I am human and I need other people as much as other people need me. I am never alone, no matter how alone I choose to feel. I am blessed with family and friends. I am blessed.

2005-06-09T14:04:00.000-05:00

Dear God,

We need to talk. I'm at a loss here for what I'm expected to do. I come into work only to find that a co-worker, a friend, has passed away suddenly in the night, and the whole world is upside down. But lately all I do is move from one catastrophe to the next and I don't know what it is I'm supposed to learn. My family is all together for the first time in years, but we're all walking around in our own private depression and I can't find a solution, not for me, not for them, not for anyone. I'm tired and I want to curl up in the fetal position and cry, but I don't know that I can cry anymore. Everyone thinks I'm so strong but on the inside I'm screaming for help. So here I am, Lord, listening for that still small voice to guide me through this mess. Otherwise I'll spend the rest of my days going in circles.

2005-05-31T10:15:00.000-05:00

I am half sick of shadows... Another day, another week, another month, another year. I'm having trouble focusing. I need to learn to let go of the pressures of work, of life, of family. I need to quit fearing the next phone call, the next doctor's visit, the next buzzing of the alarm clock. I am here in this moment, I'm alive and doing fairly well, and I need to celebrate that instead of listening to the ticking of the clock, anticipating the next moment. It's a character flaw I need to work on, and I guess today's as good as any to start.

2005-05-18T08:40:00.000-05:00

If it makes the lightsaber noise when you fire it up, and the sound of Chewbacca when I shut it down, then I'll HAVE to scrape up the pennies to get one of these :)

http://www.alienware.co.uk/starwars_pages/awswaurora.aspx?from=google:starwars

2005-05-12T15:02:00.000-05:00

Why am I not surprised? Of course I would be Yoda....

A venerated sage with vast power and knowledge, you gently guide forces around you while serving as a champion of the light.
Judge me by my size, do you? And well you should not - for my ally is the Force. And a powerful ally it is. Life greets it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us, and binds us. Luminescent beings are we, not this crude matter! You must feel the Force around you, everywhere.
Yoda is a is a character in the Star Wars universe. More Yoda information is available at the Star Wars Databank.

2005-05-12T14:38:00.000-05:00

There are moments in each of our lives where time seems to stand still and everything suddenly is upside down, off-kilter, as if viewed through a broken kaleidescope. I've had my share of these, and I'm smart enough to know that there will be others. I've discovered that I now belong to a club I didn't want to be a member of, and my mother has become a statistic. Cancer is the elephant in the living room for most of us - a topic that exists but must not be discussed because discussing it, facing it, dealing with it, is too difficult. Ignoring it, no matter how big or how obvious, is somehow easier. So dealing with the information received in a phone call, first from her four days before her surgery, then from some anonymous nurse on the other end of the beige phone in the waiting room, has been harrowing. Cancer no longer equals death, but it is still frightening. And I'm the strong one, the dependable one, the one who must have Vulcan blood in my veins because I don't believe in emotion or the display thereof. Showing emotion is for sissies, and crying is for girls. Ignore for a moment that I'm female, because I've spent my entire life trying to be one of the guys - I was raised to be a boy, damn it, and I'm not giving in now. To quote Hemingway, "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry. "

2005-04-18T13:48:00.000-05:00

OOOOOOHHHHH!!! I want one! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEE!!!! http://www.hasbro.com/pl/page.viewproduct/product_id.15397/dn/starwars/default.cfm

2005-04-12T11:39:00.000-05:00

To everyone who has had to deal with me today: I'm sorry. Apparently I'm on an emotional tear because I can't shut my mouth, can't mind my own business, and can't stop chewing other people out for using up my precious air. Please disregard any and all bitchfests for the next 24 hours - hopefully I'll be able to rein myself back in by then.

2005-04-11T14:53:00.000-05:00

Just for today, I will not beat myself up for all my perceived failures. I will not question all my past decisions when there's no hope of changing the outcome. I will not give in to self-pity for not getting a masters degree, for not writing the great American novel, for not being the same weight I was in high school or college. I will not wallow in self-doubt about my abilities as a parent, a wife, an employee, a colleague. I will not give up. I will not stop dreaming, nor will I stop working towards those dreams. I will not let setbacks become road blocks; I will not not let roadblocks become insurmountable obstacles. I will believe in me. I will believe.

2005-04-08T13:16:00.000-05:00

"See me comin to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding onto the devil I know
All my troubles'll hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth off but look where you're aiming
Don't forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you..." (Beck)

It worries my kids sometimes that I listen to progressive rock; that I could pick Beck out of a lineup, or that I know the lyrics to some of the racier NIN songs. But music - music is more than just entertainment for me. It's a running soundtrack to my life. I love my iPod but I don't have NEARLY enough music on it, mostly because, other than the Audible book tracks, everything on my U2 iPod is, well, U2. I need to get past that, I know, because U2 isn't the only band I like. There should be ample room for my Sting collection, and my Jackson Browne, and even my Def Leppard if I so desire. Most of the time I don't need my iPod, though. I can hear every note, every phrase, of every song I love in my head anytime I want to. A strange talent for someone with no musical training whatsoever, and a frustrating one as well. If only I could pick up the guitar or the violin or sit down at the piano and just start playing what I hear in my head...

2005-04-01T08:55:00.000-06:00

Does anyone know where I can buy a lovely handbasket? I have an impending trip to Hell, and I want to be sure to have the appropriate accessories. Yesterday was not a good day. I said a prayer for Terri Schiavo, another for the Pope, and no - I'm not Catholic. I'm just a backslidden Baptist. Then I spent the day fighting down my anger at my department manager for failing to back me up on an issue I felt was very important. I'm better, but there will be some changes made. Things have been dicey ever since the whole "go with the department/stay with NCS" fiasco. I thought we had it settled, but my ability to influence has been compromised, and I'm feeling pressured to change my way of doing business to more closely match that of our parent department. I can't do that in good conscience, so I think it's time to start thinking about what my next step will be.

2005-03-30T11:23:00.000-06:00

For eons, the great unanswerable question has been, "What is the meaning of life?" (The answer is 42, for all you non-Hitchhiker's Guide folks.) But these days, the question has become, "when does life start, and when does life end?" The latter half of that is weighing on everyone's mind. At what point do we declare brain death? For me, the distinction has always been when artificial life support is needed to keep the heart and lungs going when there is a total loss of cognitive function, as evidenced by a lack of measurable brain waves. But what if the body has the ability to breathe on its own and its heart pumps gamely along without artificial intervention, yet there does not appear to be any brain activity? Is that dead? Terry Schiavo's husband thinks so. Vegetable=Dead. Any so-called response is just a reflex, not a cognitive reaction. She's dead, so let's hurry up and bury the body. For seven years he's fought with his inlaws to have the right to turn off the artificial life support system to allow her to die. The lungs work, the heart beats, but because swallowing is difficult, let's pull the feeding tube and let her starve. She's been dead for years, right? Right? Perhaps. But in my mind, I think it would be a far nobler thing for him to give up guardianship to her parents and let them support and love Terri for as long as they possibly can. Maybe it is a waste of resources, a waste of money, a waste of a nursing home bed. But what if we're wrong, and she's really still in there, disabled but not truly dead? How far-reaching will this decision be? Will it effect euthanasia cases? And can starvation truly be considered a form of euthanasia since it's hardly quick or painless? A woman, not a body, is starving to death today, and our legal system appears to be helpless to prevent it.

2005-03-29T09:00:00.000-06:00

Taking a week off from work always sounds like a grand idea. Then comes the part where you actually are expected to go back, on time if possible, and resume the daily grind. Of course, it's never that easy. No one is indispensable, but it's amazing how many things can't be done if you aren't there. So a whole day is spent cleaning up the messes, calming down the masses, and trying to locate the surface of your desk that HAS to be somewhere under the groaning mound of trade publications and important notices, not to mention wading through the rubbish in your e-mail to find that one message that is of vital importance.
Of course, if we're ever honest with ourselves, we know that most of this crap doesn't matter. In five years you won't remember why the decision over how much to spend on printers or scanners or computers was so important at the time. It won't matter because no matter which ones you choose, they won't ever please your customers entirely. Eventually they will break, wear out, or suddenly start doing strange things for no apparent reason. They are machines. Just pick one and make it work as long as you can, then replace the damned thing with the next model. I just want my customer to be able to do his blinkin' job - if he's happy, I'm happy, and the world will continue to turn.

2005-03-17T15:05:00.000-06:00

Swimming in infinity, drowning in self-pity.
I'll be glad when this weather goes away. I need for it to be spring. I'm tired of winter. I'm tired of being cold. I hate feeling like this - useless, stupid, frustrated. Next week I'm taking off and going somewhere, anywhere - anywhere but here. I won't take my computer. I might take my iPod. I'm going away with the family to regroup and regenerate. I will not come back more exhausted than when I left. I can't- I have a full schedule working for the tech team at church (www.hopepark.com), helping with Easter services - all six of them. I get Friday off because we weren't sure we'd be back by then, otherwise it would be seven services. So I get to hear the music and the message six times instead of being in the choir standing on the stage making a joyful noise for seven services. Somehow I think that's an okay trade-off.

2005-03-16T09:14:00.000-06:00

I try to like my job. I really do. Most of the people are great. Some are not so great, but that's just life, and I can accept that. It's just that with these latest shifts of power, I don't feel very capable, and my opinions and knowledge are being questioned and tested on a daily basis. I'm tired of explaining why an out-of-the-box HP PC is better than a home-built ASUS POS PC. I'm tired of explaining that laser printers are not ever going to be the best choice for printing these friggin' claims. I'm tired of fighting the same battle every day and never feeling like I'm gaining ground. I'm weary to my soul right now, and there's no end in sight.

2005-03-14T13:15:00.000-06:00

So I'm a geek. Sue me.
Last night, while updating my iTunes with Joshua Tree, I decided to watch the latest teaser trailer for Star Wars. I had the sound muted on the laptop so that U2 wouldn't be playing aloud at the same time. As I watched the now-silent trailer, the scene opened to Luke Skywalker, standing outside his uncle's home, staring into the Tatooine desert, and I unconciously began to hum the theme to the first movie. Heather looked at me, puzzled, wondering why I was watching it in silent mode. After she gave me a two-minute refresher course on i-Tunes, I stopped Bono from singing, and restarted the trailer. I have a bruise on my shoulder from where Heather punched me because I had "known" without ever seeing or hearing the trailer that THAT is what would be playing for that scene. May the force be with you...

2005-03-10T08:23:00.000-06:00

Stress? What stress?!
Another week has flown by in a whirlwind of panic. Just as soon as I get one person well another becomes deathly ill, and another day was spent waiting in an emergency room for some good news, or at the very least some answers. We got lucky and got both - not appendicitis, but a ruptured cyst, and eventually the pain will go away and the kid can go back to school and we can get back to normal, whatever the hell that is. I don't know normal anymore. It doesn't exist. She started hurting Friday, so I picked her up at school and took her to the clinic. Three hours later they said it was not her appendix, and that it would stop hurting in the next 24-48 hours - if not, bring her back. So I did what I always do when I can't stop panicking about something - I cleaned the house. I did the dishes and the countertops and the dusting and the vacuuming and the laundry and the ironing and the bathroom and God knows what else. I don't remember. I was on autopilot all day Saturday, practicing watchful waiting. But after church on Sunday I'd had all I could take. We had no improvement, there was no way she could go to school in that much pain, so we headed to Children's. They were reasonably sure after a CT that they could rule out appendicitis, but the guys doing the imaging were apparently fascinated by what they had to work with, because they ran multiple enhancements, which took hours, before they finally made a final diagnosis, which was confirmed with an ultrasound. At 11:00pm, after giving her three shots of morphine and a bottle of pain pills to go, they sent her home. I took two days off to keep up the watchful waiting, and came in for a partial day yesterday before taking her to the doctor for a follow-up. Prognosis? This too shall pass, eventually. Meanwhile, she gets another two days of vacation, while I'm back at the desk, playing catchup rather than solitaire.

2005-03-01T15:05:00.000-06:00

Life's like an hourglass, glued to the table...
March is here, with a snow flurry and a little black ice to announce its arrival. Last night I danced in the snow like a kid - then I got back to work unloading nearly $200 worth of food from the car. Amazing how much it can cost to feed three people, but to be fair, the pantry was getting a little low. You can only make so many meals out of one can of chili beans, a can of tomato sauce, instant mashed potatoes, and some pasta. This morning I slept an extra hour since the kid was out of school, and dreamed some pretty weird dreams. Unfortunately, I've forgotten what they were, except that they took place in a school-like setting and I was being lectured by someone in a white lab coat ( I woke up once, but slipped right back into REM and the middle of the same dream, I suppose, as if I'd hit pause). We somehow managed to miss out on winter, but I'm ready for spring. It's time for a rebirth, a renewal, and if I'm lucky, maybe even a raise.

2005-02-23T14:08:00.000-06:00

Letting the days go by...

Things are somewhat better in our tiny corner of the universe. Still not likely to win any land-speed records, but at least he's walking. His memory lapses seem better too, but then again he doesn't want to talk much. Thankfully his ability to program doesn't seem to be affected. Dr. Brown says that it wasn't a stroke, at least not definitively. They really aren't sure what happened. I'm still hoping it was some rare kind of migraine, but the residual pain/numbness in the left leg doesn't want to fit that diagnosis either. So for now we watch, we wait, we do more tests, see more doctors, watch, and wait. Same as it ever was...

2005-02-21T08:43:00.000-06:00

Maybe it is time to panic. Wednesday morning I took Michael to the ER with a severe headache - one that had awakened him at 4:00am. He said his vision was blurry in one eye and he was having trouble walking, so after running Heather to school and consulting with his allergist to make sure this wasn't some weird side effect of something he was taking, I took him to the ER at 10:00am. They did a CT - saw nothing. Started giving injections of dilaudid. Several hours passed, several doctors and nurses checked in on him and asked questions. I called Jimmy to have him pick up Heather after school and take her home, then around 3:00pm they did a spinal tap. Fluid looked clear. The neurologist showed up, began asking more questions, checking reflexes, etc. Michael's left leg felt numb and didn't pass the reflex test. The doctor decided an MRI was in order. That was at 6:00pm. After a nurse assured me they wouldn't take him anywhere without my knowledge, I ran upstairs to McDonald's for my first food or drink all day - needless to say it was the best damned fish sandwich and coffee I have ever had. I called Miranda and had her come in to stay with Heather, since it was obvious I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. By 6:20 I was back. At 7:00 they told us they were admitting him as soon as he had the MRI. At 8:00 they said they had a room - I reminded them that the neurologist didn't want him to have to keep swapping from bed to gurney and back again, so the MRI needed to come first, then the bed. At 9:00 they gave the bed to someone else. At 10:00 they said they'd get him to MRI very soon, and at 10:45 they finally picked him up. At 11:00 they told me they weren't sure they could find a room - the hospital was essentially full. At 11:30 they got a room; at 11:45 they had me pack up his things and follow the tech down to MRI, where we collected Michael then headed upstairs. By midnight they had him in his bed, and I got sent home around 12:30 to make sure Heather made it school on time on Thursday. For the record, she was five minutes late, and I was back at the hospital by 8:15. More visits from miscellaneous folks - a speech therapist making sure Michael didn't need her services, two folks from physical therapy who watched him try to walk, a guy in a wheelchair who asked questions and checked his reflexes again. Around 11:00am we heard a doctor explaining the case in the hall outside the door. We heard them detail all his symptoms; we heard them say the MRI looked normal except for two areas of narrowing. Eventually the entire brigade of residents and the actual doctors came in, told us everything looked good, told us he could go home in a few hours. They put in an order for a regular lunch, and a bag of saline with caffeine. I left for about thirty minutes to eat lunch myself, but got back in time to help him with his. Lunch helped his attitude, as did thinking about going home. I asked Jimmy to get Heather again, though, because it didn't look like we'd get out before 3:00, and I was right. They signed him out at 3:00, and by 3:15 we were on our way back to Bellevue. It wasn't until Friday morning when he got a call from his allergy specialist that we learned that the doctors were calling it a stroke.

2005-02-14T16:16:00.000-06:00

I hate my horriblescope.

Technical:

Today you may run into obstacles right out of the gate. Don't keep slamming into them -- take a few minutes to assess the situation and you'll soon find the right path.

Gee, Karma - thanks. I needed that. So Kae's server died today... it's starting to remind me about a joke I once heard. Nothing good ever comes out of story that starts, "Me and some buddies went to Tijuana..." or one that starts, "Today Kae's server died." I'm going home and have a chat with my buddy Jose Cuervo.

2005-02-10T09:04:00.000-06:00

Just Breathe...

If only I could. This is the first time all week that I haven't felt like I was running around with my ass on fire, and now I'm on edge, anticipating the next crisis. Servers dying, software issues, ten thousand questions and two-hour meetings - I'm exhausted and it's only Thursday. I know it's just a tempest in a teacup, but until it subsides, I have to keep reminding myself to breathe - relax - focus. And above all else, Don't Panic!

2005-02-08T15:59:00.000-06:00

A friend of mine stopped blogging because he felt no one ever read it. Personally, I don't care how many people read or don't read mine. This is me and my silly rants and foibles and follies. I've been amazed when someone actually did comment, either anonymously or with user info, because I can't imagine how they found me, unless it was just through "Next Blog". But I'm flattered that they took the time to read, agree or disagree with me, and then share the experience. When I grow up I'm going to be a writer - which, considering my age, means I'll be the Grandma Moses of the publishing world. But count on it - great things are brewing in my pretty little head, and someday this kettle will boil.

2005-02-07T16:00:00.000-06:00

Do Mac's not have spellcheck? I ask this question because I assume the news reporters for our local TV station use Mac's, since there's NO way this would have made it past Microsoft Word:

At 1am Monday on the east side of the MTSU campus, police pulled over a Ford Explorer for wreckless driving. Inside the vehicle, the officer found several loaded semi-automatic weapons included a hand gun, assault rifle and a Russian made automatic rifle.

I mean, c'mon. Surely you jest! Wreckless is what I've been for the past 5 years; reckless is what I try to avoid altogether!

2005-02-04T15:34:00.000-06:00

One of my New Year's resolutions should have been to stop getting my divine direction in life from those little scraps of paper in my fortune cookies. Or maybe I should just give up Chinese food so that I would never be exposed to another fortune cookie. But since I didn't and I can't, I was faced with this lovely bit of wisdom: Many a false step is made by standing still. On the back was the Chinese word for Post Office if ever I'm in Beijing and need to mail a letter or postcard back home. This is ironic because of my method of dealing with life-changing decisions - I tend to stand at the crossroad until the developers come along and rearrange the scenery. I shall have to ponder this bon mot over a cuppa and maybe it will all make sense.

2005-02-01T08:32:00.000-06:00

I probably shouldn't fire off letters to the editor when I'm angry, but this whole mess over the ABA Nashville Rhythm co-owner firing the first female coach of a men's basketball team, Ashley McElhiney, just pissed me RIGHT off. And so...

Rhythm's part owner needs a charm class

To the Editor:

I am appalled by Sally Anthony's behavior during Saturday's game between the Nashville Rhythm and the Kansas City Knights. (''Owner fires McElhiney,'' Jan. 30)

Perhaps she's confused the ABA with the WWF; the owner/CEO of a professional team should never come out on the court to berate the coach. If you have a problem, deal with it calmly after the game, not publicly. Firing McElhiney is equally unforgivable since Ashley was doing her job as a coach.

Ms. Anthony has the right to say she doesn't want a particular player on the court, but as part-owner, I hardly see where she has the right to overrule the opinion of her two co-owners, both of whom worked to get Matt Freije signed for the weekend game with the hopes of holding him long-term.

Ms. Anthony needs a refresher course in charm school and needs to burn the poster of her hero, Marge Schott, because this is no way to run a professional team. And if she needs pointers on what a class act should look like, she needs only to look at her former head coach, Ashley McElhiney.

http://www.tennessean.com/opinion/letters/archives/05/01/64991068.shtml?Element_ID=64991068

2005-01-28T10:21:00.000-06:00

This was just TOO cool :)-

Vertigo by U2

"The night is full of holes
Those bullets rip the sky
Of ink with gold
They twinkle as the boys play rock and roll"

In 2004 you partied so hard... you forgot how to count.

What 2004 Hit Song Are You?

2005-01-27T11:06:00.000-06:00

Twenty years ago, there was fresh snow on the ground in West Tennessee and only a handful of friends and family members were brave enough to come see a tiny, precious newborn. Happy Birthday, Miranda.

2005-01-25T10:23:00.000-06:00

It took me twenty-one years and two attempts, but by God, I've finished wading through Look Homeward Angel - and I loved it. I know these people - they're my people. All the melodrama, the repressed feelings, the hateful cutting comments, the sense of loneliness and loss - I understood every word, every sensation. I recognize the ugliness and the beauty, and I value both equally. It makes me want to start writing again.

2005-01-21T13:30:00.000-06:00

http://hitchhikers.movies.go.com/ Why wasn't I notified of this? How could you NOT tell me? Man, I'm going to have a lot of sick days in May....

2005-01-20T16:20:00.000-06:00

"Hail to the chief, he's the chief and he needs hailing. He is the chief, so you'd better hail, you sons of bitches. Hail to the chief...." My Fellow Americans

He's inaugurated. Thank God for small favors - I'll never have to see THAT again.

2005-01-17T16:04:00.000-06:00

CNN:Entertainment
Samuel L. Jackson on 'Star Wars' fate
Actor: 'It's a great light-saber battle'

Monday, January 17, 2005 Posted: 4:24 PM EST (2124 GMT)

Editor's Note: The following story reveals plot points of the forthcoming "Star Wars" film. If you'd prefer to not know anything, stop reading now.

Ummmm.... it's a little late for that, don't you think?

2005-01-17T15:48:00.000-06:00

Perhaps I'm luckier than I think, or God smiles on me more often than He gets credit for. Either way, we still had heat this weekend - apparently our neighborhood is fed by a different line than the one which ruptured. This made for a much happier weekend. Friday night we went to a special meeting at BCC concerning some planned construction projects. Saturday we did laundry, took a nap, then went out for some quick shopping, followed by a trip to Green Hills to see Phantom. Sunday we went to church, went shopping with Miranda, then came home, put up a new ceiling fan, and crashed. Not a bad weekend, all in all. I tried to keep my mind off work, but it's hard sometimes. I'm not good at making major decisions, and this one will no doubt determine which way my career goes from here. Right now I'm waiting for the storm clouds to clear so that I can see things a little clearer.

2005-01-14T14:00:00.000-06:00

There should be certain rules concerning Friday. Friday should, by law, NEVER be a bad day. You should never feel beaten up when you go home on a Friday. This has been a BAD Friday.

It started off with a meeting I didn't want to go to in order to discuss a subject I did not wish to discuss. Said meeting, scheduled for 8:00, got re-scheduled for 10:00, which left me with a pre-meeting with one of the participants. At 10:00 we joined the third member of our little party, and proceeded to continue with agenda. At the end of the meeting, I felt a little better about my position in the overall scheme of things (ie, I'd had so much sunshine blown up my ass that my hair was glowing)and hoped that things would improve. I went to lunch. I came back and checked the news.

According to the late-breaking news at the Tennesean, I have no gas at home. It seems that Nine-Mile hill decided to pretend it was located in California, and so it slid, breaking the gas line that feeds Bellevue. This happened at 4:00 this morning. I had no knowledge of this, but I did wonder why I was running out of hot water. There was no news report on my favorite news channel - I think I'll let Mr. Orne know how disappointed I am. Long story short, after they patched the line, Nashville Gas has to come to every house, turn off the meter, clear the lines of air, and light the pilot lights. This is expected to take all weekend. I'm leaving at 3:00, in hopes of being home when they come by - otherwise, this will be a long, cold weekend, and I will NOT be a happy camper come Monday.

2005-01-12T09:12:00.000-06:00

Quote of the day: I have to exercise early in the morning before my brain figures out what I'm doing. I was going to skip the bike ride this morning. We moved the exercise bike from the dining room during the whole remodeling thing, and I haven't been using it much since, mostly because it involved finding a place to set up my laptop to run the bike. I decided last week enough was enough, so last Tuesday I started all over and set up the schedule for the exercise program again. I'm supposed to ride at least three times a week, with each of my planned weeks beginning on Tuesday. I didn't ride on Tuesday of last week, felt like crap on Wednesday, overslept on Thursday, forgot on Friday, but Saturday I felt a renewed sense of urgency to do something about my health, so off I rode. Sunday wasn't too hard, and by Monday, it was feeling like part of my daily routine. Tuesday was also easy to do. But this morning - this morning I felt like sleeping in. I mean, who really wants to be up at 5:30 sweating on an exercise bike? But the funny thing was, I couldn't do it. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up and rode. Guess it's a good thing. I still have this crappy creeping-crud that will not die, but I rode anyway, and on some level, I feel better.

2005-01-07T09:08:00.000-06:00

Surviving the first week of 2005 wasn't too hard... although there are changes afoot in my world that I'm not quite sure I'm ready to handle. Changes in management's direction and directives have everyone uneasy. I may be asked to make a choice in who I answer to - the department I provide support to as a service, or the group who placed me with the department. I'll work it out - I always manage to land on my feet, cat-like as always. As always, my piddly-assed problems pale in comparison to the grand scheme of things - a friend of ours has a wife who is either slipping into dementia in her early sixties or her breast cancer has metastasized and she has a brain tumor. Neither sounds like good news to me. And as if I needed a larger reminder of my global insignificance, the tsunami disaster serves its purpose remarkably well. I can't comprehend the devastation involved, the suffering, the sickness, the hunger, the pain. It overwhelms me. So I do the only thing I can do - pray, and count my many blessings.

2005-01-04T10:12:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year! Please forgive the incessant coughing - I just wasted a week of vacation being sick. Guess it's better than actually having the sick time charged to me, because I'm sure the doctor wouldn't have approved a week off. But even with a Z-pack and some Prednisone, I'm just barely past the fever-stage, and I have zero energy. But I'm here, back at work, bright smiling face :) On a happier note, I'm enjoying my Christmas present - I got my iPod! My U2 iPod! WooHoo!! Did you know it has games on it? How cool is that?

2004-12-21T10:15:00.000-06:00

Winter solstice is always a good time for reflection. Fall has bottomed out, we've turned the corner, and although winter lies ahead, there's the light of spring at the end of the tunnel. The older I get, the faster the seasons seem to fly, and while I hope to live to a hundred and ten, there's this sense of panic that any one of these next few seasons could be the last winter, the last spring. I'm not morbid, really. But things change, the world changes, people enter your life and leave it, you enter theirs and go away. There's no static place - the only thing constant is change. I'm tired of feeling like the rock in the river, gradually being worn away by the force of the stream. I'd rather be the river, raging one minute, meandering peacefully the next. I want to be the force of change, not the result of that change. I was called to do great things - if only I knew what those great things were.

2004-12-17T10:42:00.000-06:00

Friday, again. I haven't accomplished much today, not that anyone but me seems to be paying attention. I fixed one crisis in the patient accounting area (rebooted, ta da, problem solved), sent out an e-mail to everyone about the latest virus (when in doubt, DON'T OPEN IT!!!), sent instructions to someone about how to get access to our VPN (and she's not even my user - her current LAN manager is too busy to be bothered by requests for such things as secure remote access - the asshole), and created a PassportHealth account for a new user (again, not anyone I support, but we don't have enough security officers in other departments, so I just do it myself). And now it's almost 11:00, I've got to go get Heather since today is only a half-day, then I get to go to my boss's 50th birthday party. It's over at 2:00 - I'm finding it hard to justify driving back. But we'll see. If not, then Monday's another day, I'm sure.

2004-12-16T13:19:00.000-06:00

Nine more shopping days until Christmas! Excuse me while I panic.

The good news is that I only have to put up with this bunch of nutcases for three more business days, then I'm disappearing until next year. I'm taking off Wednesday and Thursday, Friday and Monday are official observed holiday days, then Tuesday through Friday of next week, followed by the Monday after New Year's, which is the official holiday. Factor in weekends and you're talking almost two weeks of vacation. Sweet :)

2004-12-14T08:14:00.000-06:00

After Friday's rant I had fully planned to go get stinkin' drunk at the Wildhorse - it's our office party destination of choice, and it seemed like a good idea. But I didn't. I only got a coke to drink, nothing remotely resembling TAB (tasty alcoholic beverage). I still had fun watching all my work buddies get on the dance floor and bump their booties. Then we left to get Heather, went home and relaxed for a few hours, then went back out into the wind and cold to see a show at the Ryman. Carbon Leaf was good (Heather got an autographed CD and a hug from the lead singer - "I HUGGED A MEMBER OF THE BAND!!!" - totally forgetting that she'd spent the entire set laughing at him because he didn't play an instrument. They did a spiritual in the middle of the set, a cappella, which was so appropriate given the location, and ended with a rousing version of "Life Less Ordinary." Grant Lee Phillips was okay for about the first two minutes of his set, then his voice just plain got annoying, and his attitude (Look at me! I'm great!) was worse. Eventually the sound of people talking drowned out most of what he was doing. We all applauded when he left the stage ;) Will Hoge was the star of the show, though. It was getting late, and I couldn't see keeping Heather out past midnight, so we had to leave early, but the four or five songs we heard were the best music I've listened to in a while. He opened with all of his bandmates crowded around a single mike, crooning "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry". From then on, it was like watching a young Springstreen, strutting, singing, sweating from the passion of the music he was pouring out like a libation to the faithful. The only laughable aspect to me was his guitarist, who obviously worships Slash, and imitated everything from the style of clothes to his stance when playing. If you get the chance to see Will Hoge, do so. Buy his record. Support his dream - he has talent almost unheard of these days.

2004-12-10T08:34:00.000-06:00

Well, folks, looks like we're in for another round of horn-honking at the capital. The local radio talk show hosts will whip the uninformed masses into a frenzy, getting the ones most likely to benefit from an income tax to be its biggest opponents. I do not know how Steve Gill can sleep at night. In an ideal world for Mr. Gill and his cronies, there would be no taxes that they couldn't find a loophole for, allowing them to enjoy the benefits those taxes pay for without ever paying in a cent. Taxation isn't fun, folks, but it's a necessary evil to pay for our road system, our education system, our local and state police forces, fire departments, all the things we benefit from in this great land of ours. Because the funding system for each state is independently managed, then each state must tax its citizens. Tennessee chose sales tax, a regressive form of taxation that does not meet our expenditures. Don't try to tell me that it is a fair tax - those who make very little have to spend every penny they make, and pay taxes on it. Those with money to burn don't spend all that much more than the working stiff that's getting the shaft from the system - they have the luxury of saving it, or of buying items whose price exceeds the state single-item maximum tax level. And when the economy tightens, as it has, there's less money being spent, less money being raised by taxes, and more shortfalls in the state budget. Gill and his faithful followers will scream that lawmakers should cut costs, tighten their belts, and quit trying to get more money. But someone has to foot the bill for all the infrastructure such as sewer, gas, electric for those million dollar homes in Williamson and Davidson county, Steve - if we cut the things that YOU benefited most from, you'd be singing a different tune, I'm sure. Okay, cut the budget for education -raise tuition again at the state-run schools - why should Steve Gill care? His kids won't ever set foot in the door of any state school - he can afford to send them elsewhere. Public schools? Who cares? Those with the dough send their lovely offspring to private schools. Folks, Steve Gill doesn't care about you - your problems aren't his problems. If we have fewer college graduates in our state, what does he care? He and his cronies plan on outsourcing all the business and industry that they can, in order to save their precious dollars. Like Scrooge, his opinion seems to be that if the poor would rather die than go to the poorhouses and orphanages, then "they had better do it, and thereby decrease the surplus population."

2004-12-08T15:28:00.000-06:00

What a world we live in: NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana (AP) -- An 8-year-old girl was suspended for nine days for bringing to school what appeared to be about 30 "Jell-O shots" -- though it was unclear whether they contained alcohol. The story goes on to say that the girl claims her mother told her to sell them at school, three for a dollar. I have to be honest here - the first thing I thought was, "Damn - not making much profit." I am so ashamed.

2004-12-07T09:43:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, I couldn't understand why the adults in my life seemed so uninspired by Christmas. I was happy - the prospect of a few days off from school, of cookies and candy, of lights and ornaments, of family and feasting, and of course, of giving and getting presents. I believed in Santa until I was eight, maybe nine, before I finally relented that maybe Santa was more than a jolly old elf, that maybe he was the spirit of Christmas in all of us. I'd like to think that as my kids grew up, I was as big a kid about Christmas as they were. I love to get out the tree and the lights and the old battered ornaments. I love sending out Christmas cards to everyone from my family. But things have changed. There's a sadness to it I didn't want to face last year. My Grandmother Bowden has been gone for several years now, but she had been lost to Alzheimer's years before, so I didn't mourn her passing as much as maybe I should have. This year my Nana died, and my friend Sarah. And while I didn't plan on dwelling on that, when I pulled out the Christmas card box, there it was - written in black and white on the address list I keep packed away. Two names to mentally cross off my list, because I don't have the heart to put the pen to the page and do it. That's too permanent, too real. I wrote out the rest of the cards, and I guess in a little while I'll find courage to retype the list. But not right now. Not right now.

2004-12-03T10:21:00.000-06:00

Reasons why targeted internet ads suck: I wasn't aware until I got this that I could compare prices on Divers, or that Scuba Divers were even available for sale! Who knew?!

2004-12-02T14:15:00.000-06:00

December kinda snuck up on me. I was so focused on getting funds and family together for Thanksgiving that it didn't occur to me that November was over. And now it's Christmas, and I have a whole new set of challenges to tackle. My mother-in-law had back surgery yesterday to correct a slipped disk/pinched nerve that had left her with no reflexes in her left leg. She's aware that the timing sucks, but she was afraid to wait, afraid that the damage might be permanent. I'm not sure what we can do to help her from here, but I'll think of something. On a less important note, I'd like to host Christmas dinner here again this year for Momma and Larisa, but first I've got some more remodeling to work on. There's no way in hell I'll get it finished, but we've GOT to get some kind of flooring in place in the remainder of the kitchen, and decide once and for all if we're pulling out the island and replacing it with an U-shaped configuration. Do we pull out the paneling and two layers of wallpaper and replace it with sheetrock, or do we just paint over the mess? Can we reuse the existing cabinets for now or are we going to have to try to scrape together some serious financing? Can I make do with the existing antique Jenn-Air, or are new appliances required? More sleepless nights, more impossible days and weekends. But hey, this is life. This is what it's like in a world where every day is a new crisis and a new adventure and a new opportunity to screw up or excel. Gotta love it.

2004-11-29T13:23:00.000-06:00

What a Thanksgiving. It was probably the most memorable Thanskgiving our family has ever had, and it was well worth the hassle of the drive to Portland Maine and back. I look forward to going back, but next time I'm flying.

Quote of the day:

Life's about friendships, the way you love your partner, the way you care for your children. That is what life is about. Not anything about earning a hundred zillion dollars because you toured America more than anyone else. I want life to be about creativity.- -- Joe Strummer, former lead singer for the Clash rock band.

2004-11-16T10:16:00.000-06:00

I may have to stop following football. It's just not a good year for me as far a sports are concerned. Hockey season is gone, my beloved Titans are on the on the brink of implosion, and Vanderbilt managed once again to find a season's worth of new and exciting ways to lose football games. Don't talk to me about basketball, because I like it only a little better than baseball. And tennis is senseless. Golf is fun to play, but boring as hell to watch, and thanks to a computer game I played YEARS ago, has reduced my response to most things in golf to "Oooh.... can't be too happy about that one, Jim." But football - God, I love to watch football. I joined the friggin' color guard in highschool for two reasons: 1) days out of school in the spring to march in the parades and 2) free football all season. I wasn't coordinated enough to twirl a flag and march at the same time, but I tried REALLY hard, and I loved doing it. I sold my Titan's tickets to Sunday's game, and I'm sure I got the better end of the deal. Now if I can just find a sucker for my Monday night tickets...

And then, last night, adding insult to injury, the Cowboys went from potential playoff material to leftover Tuna Surprise. I still like the Cowboys (don't tell Coach Fisher!) but the Tuna - well, to say that Parcells needs to go home, Jimmy Johnson needs to BUY a friggin' clue, and DAMN, how I miss the gravy days of Coach Landry pretty well sums up how I feel about the Cowboys. It's hard sometimes not to be a fair weather fan, but most of the faithful have ridden out the storms before. These days, however, it feels like hurricane season may never end.

2004-11-15T08:14:00.000-06:00

Got a bit of good news on Friday - we're getting a bonus on Wednesday. It's not much, mind you; just a flat $200 per person if you've worked here at least a year. It's been 4 1/2 years since the last time they did this. I know because I hadn't been here long enough to get a check. But $200 is $200... makes taking this trip to Maine a little easier to manage. Has anyone checked the Weather Channel lately? I need to see the forecast...

2004-11-11T15:49:00.000-06:00

Ooooohhh.....Can I have a pony for Christmas?!

2004-11-11T14:24:00.000-06:00

Cold rain... well, I guess it had to start feeling like November eventually. Besides, it makes my cup of coffee seem that much better, warming my hands before I take that first sip, the wonderful aroma riding on the steam..... ahhhhh..... much better. Everyone has a drug of choice - mine just happens to come in a cup.

Today is Veteran's Day, the most significant and least celebrated of all holidays. I am opposed to war, mostly because I'm a talker and I'm convinced that as intelligent people we should be able to settle our differences without coming to blows. But I understand that there are times when it is inevitable, and I have the utmost respect for the men and women in our military. My father served in the Army, my grandfather worked on a support ship in the Pacific in WWII the Big One. My father-in-law earned a purple heart in Vietnam. There will always be those who flout the world's opinions and laws, and try to become a law unto themselves - the Hitlers and the Stalins and yes, even the Saddam Husseins. When they do, as the largest remaining superpower, it always seems to fall to us to put down the tyrant and clean up the mess. When it comes to that, it is a noble cause and the men and women who put their lives on the line for that cause deserve better than they get. If we can't manage anything else, at the very least we owe them our respect.

2004-11-09T09:33:00.000-06:00

Cold morning ;) At least the sun is shining. I've had my two cups of coffee, answered a handful of e-mails and phone calls, and in general feel like I'm in charge. I've read my buddy Dave's blog (www.sudrin.com) and learned how divisive the election can be, even days after the concession speech. Like Dave, I saw the news blurb about the error in Ohio that gave nearly 4,000 votes to Bush - I say 'gave', because the district reported 4,258 voted for Bush, while 260 voted for Kerry - which was a neat trick, given that only 638 people voted in that precinct. This is just one precinct, one reported problem, which could have been cancelled out by an overage to Kerry in some other locale, or to Nader . But the fact remains that we have no way of verifying, much less certifying, how many votes went to EITHER candidate. Here we are, leader of the free world, and we can't conduct verifiable elections. Does that bother anyone else out there?

2004-11-08T14:31:00.000-06:00

Not happy am I....

That I have to wait until May 19th to see this. So I'm a fem-geek - sue me ;) For all you fellow geeks, http://www.astercity.net/~jerry/full.mov should get your adreniline pumping. May the force be with us all.

2004-11-04T08:35:00.000-06:00

3 years, 364 more days.... I'm better now, really. I haven't tried to drown my sorrows with my buddy Jack, although the thought crossed my mind. I've realized that there's no point in feeling sorry for myself because my 'team' lost. I just have to get up, dust off, and figure out how to do the best I can to prevent this from happening again. God forbid that Jeb try to fill W's shoes... I'm beginning to question whether or not Barbara had any children that lived ;) So, I guess I'll be contacting my party headquarters to see if there's anything I can do to help.

2004-11-03T13:40:00.000-06:00

Welcome to Bush-land. Please try to enjoy the next four years, while you ponder what exactly the GNP numbers will be based upon, considering that there are so few products produced in this country for export. What DO we make, exactly? Hell, we've started outsourcing the data entry for our tax returns to friggin' INDIA... and let's not even talk about the phone banks for tech support for our computer software and hardware producers. It doesn't matter. Oil prices will go up, car mpg's will NOT go up, SUV's will continue to be the model of choice until there is no more oil, until Alaska's drilled dry... Minimum wage will probably not go up, more people will go without insurance, drug and medical costs will continue to skyrocket, and those of us squarely in the middle class will continue to be bled dry to pay for the "war" in Iraq and the "war" on terrorism. Osama bin Laden will continue to thumb his nose at us, and will never be caught. Four years from now Social Security benefits will no doubt be teetering on the brink of extinction, and folks like my mother who worked to pay in most of her life will be left without a safety net other than falling back on family. Four years from now mathematicians will have to invent a new word to describe the national debt. Four years from now, unless he keels over in the interim, we'll have to face the specter of Dick Cheney running for president, and because the Democratic party is apparently a glutton for punishment, odds are good he'll be running against one or both of the Clintons. If you'll excuse me, I have to go throw up now... then maybe I'll see if I can't con a doctor into prescribing Zoloft or Prozac. Better living through chemicals, I always say.

2004-11-02T13:44:00.000-06:00

Election Day 2004. I voted this morning at the local Methodist church, which holds voting for two precincts. By virtue of living in a small "orphaned" piece of my precinct, my line was non-existent. This was a bonus, since the other line had at least fifty people standing in it. The process was relatively painless, since we only had three selections to make. Now if only the election itself would go as smoothly. I'm trying not to panic, but I still remember agonizing for days over Election 2000, the recount, and the final result. My favorite bumper sticker this election year was a tie between "Somewhere in Texas a village is missing its idiot" and "Re-Defeat Bush."

2004-10-29T15:43:00.000-05:00

Sheesh. Nobody told me my barrel bottom was rolling up on me!

2004-10-29T10:05:00.000-05:00

Halloween. At least, it is at work. A pretty good percentage of us showed up in costume since the school for the physically and mentally challenged kids up the road from us come by to Trick or Treat at lunch. In the five years I've been here, I've come as an Olympic medalist, a geisha, a medieval bar maid - all decent enough. The year I came as a geisha people walked past my door and did a double take, which is great for a store-bought costume. This year people are a bit puzzled when they see me - the orange satin is throwing them a bit, and they assume I have something to do with UT. But no, although I am a closet UT fan, today I'm representing the Tennessee state object - the ubiquitous orange construction barrel. And I'm having a blast :)

2004-10-28T15:22:00.000-05:00

Researchers have confirmed what speakers, actors, and college students have known for years: Stress causes forgetfulness. Well, duh. Actually, I find it very comforting, since stress has been a diagnosed condition in my life for quite some time. Stress is why I have acid reflux and gastritis. Stress is why my heart has an occasional arrythmia. Stress can now be blamed for my geriatric episodes, such as not remembering if I set the alarm or took my medicine or put the coffee pot back in the machine before making coffee. I'll quit worrying that I have early stages of Alzheimers, since that just increases my level of stress.

2004-10-27T15:05:00.000-05:00

What every self-respecting geek will HAVE to have for Christmas - along with the $150 'box' set of U2's catalog....

2004-10-26T13:12:00.000-05:00

Last Saturday I lucked up and inherited a pair of tickets to hear David Sedaris read some of his work to us. I had read some of his short stories before in the New Yorker - stories that will make you laugh hard enough to wet your pants. In fact, I think there should probably be warning signs at his performances to "go" before you settle into your seat for an evening of entertainment. On this particular night at Vanderbilt, there were signs - signs that warned you that the nearest restrooms were in the next building on campus. I probably should have made the hike. I was glad to be out of the rain, however, and eager to find our seats. We were three rows from the stage, which was great until we needed to leave early. No matter - I enjoyed the show. I've gone to NPR.org and listened to sound clips of the same material, but I have to say that they were much better when you could see the smirk on his face as he told the punch lines to his best jokes. It was a delightful experience.

2004-10-25T13:06:00.000-05:00

Training classes are sometimes fun, sometimes useful, sometimes boring. I suffered through five days of stuff, of which probably only 1/5 actually applies to my current job. The rest of it was installation, backup, and restore/repair, which I will never actually get to do. No matter, though - I understand the concepts, and I could probably wing it if I had to. Now I'll have to spend three days trying to catch up on loose ends - those things I couldn't do administratively from my remote location. October's almost over. It's maddening.

2004-10-15T15:26:00.000-05:00

Happiness is a pack of Twinkies and a cup of coffee :) Finally Friday, next week I'm in training so I can wear jeans every flippin' day if I want to (and oh, do I ever want to!) and hopefully I'll come back even smarter than when I left.