I’m still around.

Things I am doing - hiking, backpacking, hiking, organizing hikes, joining a writing club, submitting resumes, trying not to do too much paperwork at home after work. Oh, and then there’s the hiking. And the losing weight thing. (Twenty pounds, one pant size.)

Things I am not doing - blogging, commenting, or really much of anything online.

Sorry, internets. I still adore you, I’m just a little distracted with work angst and trying to be active enough that I can put it out of my head.

So I’ve been so overwhelmed and crazy busy on the go, my roots have grown out an inch after a number of years of being a bottle blond. I find that I am more gray than not.

This feels strange to me.

I think I will continue to be blond for a few years yet.

View topic - The power of graphs :: Atheist Network

There have been times that I have had a doctor I liked and wanted to keep. Then I changed jobs….

Now, I have Kaiser. There is a huge Kaiser medical center in town, and each time I require something simple like a prescription I have to go there.

Today I went to the huge four story ultra-complex multiple building-named-after-a-tree center for the routine female tests. I was in and out in less than an hour. I find this amazing, after the three hour visits that were actually fifteen minute visits surrounded by long waits for the doctor/nurse practitioner to enter the room….

I have come to appreciate the conveyor belt approach to medicine. The days of the family doctor who knows you since you’re two months old are nostalgic history. Viva la HMO. I was back to work in no time.

Last Saturday I hiked 9 miles in 90F weather, on exposed ridges at ~7000 feet elevation.

Sunday I slept most of the day. I think that the four liters of water I drank on the hike did not offset the heat exhaustion. Not Good.

Still somewhat tired this week. Not wanting to get up for work in the mornings. Thinking I’m too old p’raps for pushing myself into the out of doors.

But! Tioga Pass opens tomorrow. I may yet go backpacking in Yosemite.

1. I have completed 8 miles hikes every weekend for two months.
2. I have not met the same group twice; there have been a few people I have seen twice/three times, but the faces keep changing.
3. If different people keep showing up I will eventually meet someone I know. Today I met a friend of a friend.
4. I appear to be a power hiker, as opposed to a slowpoke like two thirds of today’s group.

I may be more ready for a real backpacking trip; I have finally found shoes that do not make me limp after 8 miles.

I have been organizing my books to sell them. To pay for backpacking gear.

Good grief. The next thing you know, day will be night, and we’ll start wearing hats on our feet. The incurable book-hoarding bookworm is selling books!

But the internet is powerful and I’ve just ordered more gear and GOOD GOD SOMEONE STAGE AN INTERVENTION.

I ordered a backpacking UMBRELLA.

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Well. Actually it makes more sense than it seems. The Chrome Dome is for keeping off the sun. I wore 50 SPF on an 8 mile hike yesterday and next thing you know, sunburn. Especially on my knuckles, of all places. I slathered it on at least three times over 5 hours.

So, a metallicized umbrella.

I went backpacking in Big Sur.

Things I did that were fun:
hiked through wildflowers and greenery
camped alongside the river
enjoyed the fresh air and sunshine and scenery

Things I did that were not fun:
taking a long detour due to road construction that resulted in being late to the trailhead and needing to cover 10 miles before nightfall.
run out of charge in the camera battery
nearly fall in the ice cold river while wading across with a 27 lb pack
burn my dinner in the pan
tip over my lit backpacking stove and catch the forest floor on fire
sleep part of the 34F night, but not all
nearly roll down a cliff trying to step over a fallen tree with 27 lbs of dead weight throwing me off balance
hike back out with blisters and sore hips from the hip belt of the new pack
go to ER to get a tick cut out of my leg when it became obvious I couldn’t ever do it myself
the uncertainty of whether I still had insurance or not - hate switching jobs and not knowing

At least I know what to do next time. Coat my clothes with permethrin.

Moving and new job are at the top of the list for life events most stressful. Moving back to a town where most of my friends live takes the edge off - I have some support and things to do from time to time. Also the folks at work are great and I am making a few potential friends, not just friendly-because-we’re-here acquaintances.

Still, I continue to be lonelier than hell. To offset this, I have been going on hikes with an active hiking group, and accumulating gear for actual backpacking trips. It keeps me occupied. I made myself a hiking quilt, sort of a sleeping bag minus the zipper and a couple other features that make mummy bags too claustrophobic for my liking. I joined hiking forums. I did a lot of research.

I’m still unpacking from the move and will likely share a booth at the swap meet with a friend to offload random items and the plethora of books I haven’t read in two years. My pets are doing okay, but I have lately wanted to kill them for waking me up too early - the time change is not our friend.

I am trying hard to move slowly, make no rash decisions, take deep breaths, move through the transitional period and let the situation settle before doing anything else like committing to another group or shifting my work schedule. The impulse is to get busy and stop feeling so lonely. It’s not that friends aren’t great - it’s just that I’ve gotten to the point that coming home to an empty apartment is getting harder and harder, and nearly half my life is behind me. One of my friends is widowed; she got to spend her younger active years with a husband she loved dearly. Others have had relationships, spouses, divorces, and have children and grandchildren to fill the space.

I’ve had relationships, a husband, and they’re all gone. In my less rational moments I have to wonder what I did wrong. It’s not like I don’t know how to be a good friend, or how to make connections. It’s just sort of what happened. And the older you get, the fewer options there seem to be. I haven’t met an unattached *person* in two years - everyone’s got someone. Forget meeting someone compatible; that seems like a pipe dream. The one compatible person I knew didn’t want me, apparently.

It all seems harder and harder to handle. So I write less, and blog less, and try harder to be active, because it’s pretty much all I can do.

And before you suggest dating sites.. been there, done that, not going back to it. All it taught me was that people either lie, or have distorted self awareness that leads to uncomfortable situations. I only ever met one person on them who was honest. That didn’t work either.

I’m busily cleaning out the apartment, as in, all the things I have not used in a year or more are going into a pile in the garage.

I considered selling some things, and I may yet throw a collection(s) of various games and software on ebay…. But I’m thinking many of these items served me for a while and retired to closets, and that we only ever pay for the use of them, and part of being responsible is to be conscious of when it’s time to let things go so someone else who needs them can use them. So many items are going to head for donation sites, to be exchanged for receipts.

My old PC/digital camera already have a home - a friend who still has Windows ME (!!!!!) will be adopting them once I reformat the hard drive and install fresh versions of the software.

Lots and lots of old craft stuff is heading out of the apartment, or being set aside for re-use in new projects. And I have dusted off the sewing machine - I just ordered a quilt kit to make a backpacking quilt. The mummy bag I have is not as warm as advertised, and the zipper getting stuck wigs me out in the morning - I’m somewhat claustrophobic, and add that to having to pee and not being able to get out of the bag? Panic city.

Yes, I’m still planning to move. I have another job interview on the twenty-second. I have quotes from moving companies, of the do-it-yourself and four-guys-with-tools sort of job. I lean toward four guys with tools dismantling the washer/dryer and wheeling out the refrigerator. Being able to load the pets and electronics in the car and let the guys lock the garage door when they’re done and ready to roll has a certain appeal.

Now I’m going over to visit the puppies, order pizza, and watch movies for the house sitting part of the day. I have half a crocheted vest to re-do.

This is called “keeping busy so the supervisor made of fail won’t drive me crazy.” Supervisor is currently vacationing out of the country. Must be nice. Of course, the few of us who are not in her “in” group did not receive advance notice of this, so any needs we have in the way of supervision get left for next week….

I am also planning a backpacking trip next week - a three day weekend coming up.

So after examining all the options - packable presses, pots and so forth - I get an H20!jo and bring it home. Thinking, well, I have a 16 oz wide mouth Nalgene that would work spiffy with this. That would be plenty of coffee/tea to get me going in the morning when I’m backpacking, or on those mornings when running the coffee maker isn’t possible - throw in grounds, pour hot water, close the top and let it brew while I’m doing other things.

Like so many other things in my life lately, it didn’t work out - the mouth of the Nalgene isn’t wide enough to let even the bottom of the mesh basket through. So I get to go shopping again. Hopefully there are bottles with wider mouths that aren’t 32 ozs - I’d be vibrating up the trail with that much coffee in my veins.

I wonder how many posts are apologies for gaps in posting?

I fail as a blogger. Seriously, I have not words to spare. I spend my days working in a job that I took in a town I don’t want to live in, being unmotivated as I sit through meetings wherein we are told there will be cuts… no mention of layoffs but y’know, the Governator just slashed the statewide budget, and that means a year from now….

There’s nothing more depressing than a dead end job than a dead end job PLUS a heartache. PLUS a town that’s so depressing it borders on the twilight-zonish. I go looking for book clubs, hiking groups, whatever meets my hobby list, and find… nothing. Oh, the Sierra Club, but I’m not so sure I like the politics of it, plus the local group appears to exist to recycle batteries and pick up highway trash. The group to the north and west of me, now, they go out camping and hiking.

Retail therapy dictated that I pick up a new camera, small and simple enough for backpacking. My current camera weighs about a pound and the lens cover sticks shut, resulting in random black boxes where there should be pictures. Also a 4GB memory card.

I think I have one beer left. Perhaps I can write, for a change. I’ve been listless and unmotivated for too long.

and a happy #$%@ new year.

Sorry, I’m just cranky, because today and tomorrow are turning out to be the longest miserable days of the year. NO ONE wants to work two days before an eleven day vacation, and I certainly am not alone in not wanting to do anything this week as most of the kids are turning into caffeine driven squirrels for the holidays.

Add in a flat insulting letter I got and it’s JUST NOT HAPPY JAN.

I anticipate my mood will improve about Saturday when I get in the car and depart, leaving the pets to deal with the pet sitter and the office to deal with whatever, and spend a week where my allergies won’t kill me and there aren’t endless pieces of paper to submit and goals to reach and hyperactive squirrels, i.e. kids, to wrangle. But I won’t be here to blog about it. I will however take many pictures.

Minimus - For All Your Travel Size Item Needs

What I like about this is all the prepackaged stuff works well for backpacking, too. Plus there’s survival kits, and you can also have them mail a care package directly to military personnel overseas.

I must taste great. The cat keeps licking, and licking, and licking. At night I have to pull the covers up high and keep my hands under. She licks my arms, hands, fingers….

Thank goodness she’s not a lion or something. Thank goodness my facial cream appears to alter the flavor of my face.

I’ve been engaged in a little retail therapy lately. I console myself that I will use the camping gear for years to come and it’s cheaper than simply heading off to a resort and spending a thousand or so on a room, dining and so forth.

I have a reservation at Big Sur campground for three nights. I wonder if Santa delivers tentside? Probably not - but that’s okay. I’ll have my coffee, sausages and eggs on Christmas morning, followed by a brisk hike. It’s going to be a very merry Christmas.

One of my early gifts to myself was a book of hot springs in the southwest - did you know there are hot springs all over the place that aren’t surrounded by buildings full of masseuses and haughty receptionists to take your Visa/Mastercard? One of them is in Big Sur.

The year, that is.

Here are all the things I haven’t posted about in any detail this year.
* another job search
* horrid supervisor
* massive horrendous icky no good PMS - I will no longer scoff if someone mentions ’suicidal’ and PMS in the same sentence. There have been not-good moments.
* massive heartbreak.

This year I got a raise and considerable backpay, and in addition to paying off some bills I am getting myself camping gear and I am making a resolution to use it next year, as well as getting back into yoga so I can be in some sort of shape to go backpacking in late summer/early fall.

I wish that I had never moved here, because when the pros and cons are weighed? My health has backslid, my allergies are unending, the migraines came back with a vengeance, and I literally have two friends in town. It’s an awful place to meet people. Everyone’s got their own social circle already and I’m not from here, so there’s no roots.

I am not rich but I am not broke, I have a new-ish car, and my intern hours are half done. I would like to now heave a great sigh and fall into bed, however, it is currently covered with clothing, as while I pack boxes and slowly make ready to move again, I am purging old crap I don’t use anymore. For I am tired and hoping I can take some time off over the holidays to regroup.

“Quit eating things that aren’t edible.” (to the cat - like she listens)
“Aren’t you a pretty bird?”
“Thank you for that de-motivational speech. see you next week?”
“That’s an interesting interpretation of a straightforward policy.”
“Since when are these meetings mandatory? they can’t figure out how else to keep the beatings going? I’ve noticed more people wearing track shoes lately.”
“A cut in pay, a boost in morale. These are the tradeoffs.”
“You don’t suppose they realize we’re all looking for real work?”
“There is not enough chocolate in the world for me to go there and do that.”

…between a better workplace and $500 per month extra spending money.

Which do you choose?

I did not a single constructive thing for three days. Unless a marathon viewing of three seasons of a tv series counts.

Of course, one day of the three was spent trying to get rid of a migraine, which really isn’t going to qualify as laziness. Having a migraine is trying at best. I think I may have slept for twenty hours, give or take.

I’m still not talking about the huge stressful work-related thingie, but that doesn’t make it less an issue.

I think there may be a future for me yet, however. Stay tuned.

Didn’t even know I was gone, did you?

I spent three days covering a lot of miles up and down the California coast. I went to Pismo, Avila Beach, San Luis Obispo, Cayucos, Morro Bay, San Simeon, Carmel and Monterey - this was not terribly difficult as the first six are all about 10 - 30 miles apart, and it really doesn’t take much time to go from one to the other as everyone on Route 1 (or 101 in some stretches) drives like a bat outta. Avila is where you take your motorhome to park, open the door, plant deck chairs just outside and sit there. It’s what everyone else was doing. I went to Sycamore Springs instead and sat in a hot tub for an hour. Then I went outlet shopping in Pismo, people watched at the beach, and buzzed up the coast again.

I saw two whales (spouting, not up close), a pod of dolphins leaping, lots of birds, seals and sea lions, lots of buzzards eating dead seals, but no exotics; the zebras at Hearst Castle must have been out in the vast acreage surrounding the castle rather than at the road this time. The castle itself is something to see, if you haven’t been.

Driving up highway 1 is an attraction in itself. I did it in the morning fog. I actually had to buy a sweater in Pismo. And now I am home in central Cali, and only want to drive back over there and stay - it’s so hot here! I could while away the hours sitting on a rock overlooking the Pacific if only I could find someone to bring me sandwiches and lotion (for wind burn). If only there were experiments being done on how long people could sit on a beach - I’m game.

Ha! I’m such a kidder. No, short and random is what we do here.

Randomness #1: There are few better ways to end a relaxing series of yoga poses than abruptly breaking every toe on your left foot on the vacuum cleaner you cleverly left lurking in the dark hall.

Randomness #2: Clipping toenails without your glasses is great fun! You won’t regret it!

It’s opposite day, didn’t you know?

Randomness #3: I thought of Jemima today at the library as I stood before a shelf of books with ominous names like POLIO and PLAGUES, VIRUSES, & VIRULENT BACTERIA.

Here I thought roaches were coming inside to die on my floor after the bug man sprays outside.

I swept up a roach this morning that, once tossed into the dumpster, began running around. If you flip a roach on its back it will lay there until it dies - they can’t flip back over. I can only guess my cat has been flipping over roaches in the kitchen.

Good kitty!

Time to call management again. Bug guy never knocked on my door yesterday like he was supposed to, and in my hypervigilance to welcome a man with insecticide in, I accidentally found myself talking to Jehovah’s Witnesses.

I was thinking about this today, after having to put in another request for fixing a light fixture. Here’s everything about the apartment that’s been replaced.

Every single lightbulb (mostly by me)
The roof
The garage door
linoleum (before move in)
carpet (before move in)
gaskets in two sinks
light fixture in bathroom

Things that had to be fixed:
the stove
the dishwasher (i figured that one out myself)

I’m waiting for the walls to cave in or the counters to crack. I’ll be here hugging my renter’s insurance policy, waiting for a better apartment.

Because I have this love-hate relationship with Costco.

My membership is up for renewal and I’m debating not doing it. But… it’s a great place when you need a really big cheesecake, or you have an empty freezer, or you just want five pounds of coffee beans to stash. Also great for gift buying, because they have this great exchange counter who don’t ask questions.

So I debate it, and I go this last weekend to get water filters before the card lapses.

There are two kinds of Britta filters. They don’t carry mine.

Oh, fine, I think, and cruise around the store. Surely they have something I need? I emphasized the ‘need’ to myself. I picked up a flat of Naked juice/smoothies in single serving bottles, thinking heat wave=pressing need for the cold stuff. I considered the huge displays of cheeses and meats, the endless fresh-baked everything, the pre-made lunches and so forth. Do I need this stuff? Not in quantities suitable for feeding the entire US Navy. For some reason things are getting moldy overnight. I looked for a testing kit for mold - no dice. And if they did have those, they’d probably force me to buy ten of them.

I think, as I go toward the front, that i need clothes. So they have a deal on tanks that you layer under other shirts, and I grab. They have cropped cargo pants in neutral shades. I take what I think is the right size. You would think I’d learn - like the last pair of pants I got there, it’s just a tiny. bit. tight.

Now I have to go back to Costco - but do I ask for the next largest size? or just get the money and run? dare I admit in public that I am now LARGE? Nyaaaaaah. What a drag it is to get old. and FAT.

My kneejerk reaction to the roach terror of 07 was to…

… run out and buy roach motels. Yes, small boxes with sticky insides. I considered mutation-inducing amounts of insecticide, really I did, but decided that while roaches are fast and icky they are also bugs and dumb as heck. And sure enough, in a single 24 hour period I have trapped three monstrosities in one trap. Location of the trap leads me to believe that the source of all ickness is in fact the garage.

So now I can buy mutation inducing chemicals and concentrate them in the garage, where I don’t live all day trying to breath.

Bet you’re glad you read my blog today, eh? But it’s the one part of my day that isn’t confidential. The rest of my time is filled with bionicle-obsessed kids and their neuroses.

…of sleep, and I can’t go back to bed.

I woke half an hour ago to find a BIG F’ING roach marching across my cheek. After the inevitable screaming and flailing, it vanished somewhere in the vicinity of a basket of clean clothes and my closet. My cat, useless and chicken, fled the scene.

Rationally, I know these things are everywhere - and yet I cannot sleep.

Part of my job is adding mileage to my car.

This town is like so many other California towns (it’s almost a city but lacks any sense of culture, though they make the attempts - the museum, the handful of art galleries, the jazz festival, some good restaurants). You go a block and you’re in a bad neighborhood.

I was driving through old town and looking for the auditorium where a friend’s recital was going to happen, took a left turn, and ended up smack in That Part of Town. There are several of those here. I knew it was That Part by the distinguishing characteristics of:

1) no greenery. No grass, no trees, no shrubs. Patchs of bare sandy dirt that are packed down by lots of feet crossing it, or possibly cars parking on it.
2) bare, boxy apartments and houses with bars on the windows. Parts of the walls are coming off. The paint’s in lousy colors - peach that’s faded, white that’s filthy and gray, brown like something you scraped off your shoe.
3) Kids in bare feet and clothing in the wrong sizes, running amok with otter pops bleeding down their arms. Close shaven hair, no adult in the vicinity. One of them trying to get a cat with a stick.
4) The groupings. One corner, six guys, baggy clothes, holding bottles or butts or mp3 players, standing around looking that way. It’s sort of a vigilant, yet lackadaisical air, standing at the ready to do whatever’s necessary yet they also affect a nonchalance that says “I ain’t takin that, yo.” They mill around parking lots and corners like they’re on patrol. In a city with seven major gangs they probably are. Black, hispanic, white - they seem to group along racial boundaries.
5) The cars - beaters, with the occasional Lovingly Restored Classic Mustang or Lexus. New cars are all over town. People who can’t get the kids new school clothes buy speakers for the ride, too.

As hard as we try, people seem to live up to their own lowest common denominator. It’s just culturally not done to take the nonviolent route, in some cases. I have kids from That Part of Town brought in by concerned mommas, and get to talk to them about how their fathers consider the beating of a classmate to be a normal rite of passage. And the momma has to take the bus cause poppa took the truck to buy beer. And that’s the way it is.

Sometimes kids move from That Part of Town and become judges, doctors, lawyers or successful contractors. Sometimes, most of the time, they stay. Family’s there. It’s just the way it is. I can’t go to college, I gotta support my baby momma. The notion that we can change this is looking to be false - you can educate them, tell them about other options, offer them tools and scholarships and point them at the open door of state university. You can’t change the way they think about themselves to get them to walk through.

I can see how civil service employees experience such an incredible rate of burnout. You go to college, volunteer for field work hours, go to all that trouble only to be confronted with a great crowd of apathetic poor people who resist your every attempt to nudge them toward self actualization.

All this to say - I’m tired. Too tired to blog much. Too tired to think much. And the writing was going for a while, and it still might, but it’s so very hot these days that I tend to sit in front of the fan and drink cold tea instead.

Boom boxes. So 70’s. Remember guys strutting down the street balancing a stereo the size of a small wall on their shoulders? Back when iPods didn’t exist and pre-Walkman?

I saw one - guy had it and was walking down the sidewalk with it. Not on his shoulder, but it was enough to make me do a double take. iPod earphones are everywhere, and here was this guy with a stereo the size of a surfboard.

Which is the extent of the funny for the day that isn’t confidential.

This morning I go in at 10. So I get to watch Lost online and drink coffee at home… and forget things.

I knew last night that my cell phone was nearly dead, but had a headache and crashed early, and did not get it on charger. This morning I am feeding the birds and looking up last night’s lost episode, and I think, need to get cell phone charged. So I go after it.

On the way down the hall I smell cat box, and stop to clean it. In the kitchen, I make coffee and rinse some dishes. Fend off the cats, one of which licked my head every hour for most of the night and kicked my face this morning having a kitty panic attack. Come back to finish Lost. Realize I left the phone in my purse. Go get it, plus bluetooth headset, and come back - only to find that I had gotten phone plus the little round pill case I carry sudafed and headache meds in. Go back to return pill case and get headset.

I can imagine what this is leading up to. I’ll leave the house, forget my car key, go back. Get to the garage door, forget coffee, go back. Get to the car, realize I left the phone on the charger, go back. Get to the intersection, realize I left my shoes, go back….

I thought ‘champagne.’ I typed ’shampoo.’

Curse you, brain.

Only I would get into a row with co-workers over whether ‘obstreperous’ is a word.

“It’s not in the dictionary!”

Me: “Yes. It is.”

*pages through* “Oh… my… gawd. ‘noisy and difficult to control.’”

“Hey, that’s me!”

Me: “Yes. It is. Hence my usage of the term.”

“How do you even know that word?”

Me: siiiiiiigh. “Floccinaucinihilipilification!”

O_O O_o

Me: “Yes. It is a word.”

I couldn’t wait for that week to end. All the workers are gone, the roof looks good, the back patio cleaned up, the fans and blowers gone, the carpet tacked down, and life is back to normal.

Just in time to have a Saturday. Of course, I’m broke, so it’s me and the library books. What’s up with gas prices? Up ten cents, down ten cents, up again next week. Wreaks havoc on the budget. If only we had decent public transportation.

I may have to find lodging closer to work, at this rate. Biking or walking sounds like it would make life easier. Car still necessary for shopping, but it would probably take the fuel cost down to 30-40 per month rather than per week.

… you came home and flushed a toilet, then discovered both bathrooms were an inch deep in water. Which resulted in a soaked carpet, a call to the management, and a plumber at the door at 10 pm.

… you fasted for 12 hours, had no breakfast or coffee(!), got four blood draws in two hours (within a hair’s breadth of the last puncture, no less), and an upset stomach due to the icky glucose they made you drink. Then went to work to deal with the most resistant clients EVAH.

… you got involved in a promising show that featured actors from Alias (Ron! Rifkin! and that Getty fella), Calista Flockhart (still anorexic after all these years), Tom Skerrit (always the dad), Six Feet Under, and Sally (You like me!) Field, and the climax of the very first episode hits, and … the cat wants ATTENTION NOW STUPID HUMAN PET MEEEEEEEE. And then she ignores you for the rest of the night.

… plumber’s still thumping around. ARG. Head hurts. BLEH.

And tomorrow, someone will be here to suck the water out of the carpet. And put shingles on the roof.

Can there be one more thing broken? I will then feel like one of those folks on This Old House. Only renting.

Summertime!

Hit the nineties this weekend. I don’t envy the guys who are ripping shingles off the roof. And then it’s supposed to rain later this week, so I hope they finish pronto!

I may have found a yoga studio within 15 minutes of work. But I have no idea what iyengar(?) yoga is. I may go in for a class and find out.

… it’s raining again.

I have an urge to go out and do a Snoopy dance in the driveway, but as I’m in my pajamas until I do laundry that would probably not be a good idea.

I, as a pet parent who spoils her children to the nth degree, got a water fountain for my cat that constantly recirculates the water, as kitties like that and stop trying to stick their head in people’s water glasses rather than drink from stale standing water. When it runs low it makes a sort of grinding noise. I awoke last night to a sound I mistook for the fountain. Standing blearily under the vent in the hall, I realized the rain was coming down hard enough to make a dull roar through the vent system. So I went back to bed.

What a great Sunday. Might venture to the library later.

… my friend says.

“In Gorman.”

Sizzler was… Sizzler. As it always is. But it was better than McDonalds.

I went to Old Town to frolic with a friend yesterday, and got back this morning. Then I looked at the car, which seemed relatively clean other than some road spatter, and thought about washing it anyway - you can tell it’s still new when I actually want to wash the thing.

Instead, however, I sprayed it down with some of that “quick detailer” and gave it a rubdown with some clean towels.

I cannot believe I have not yet contracted black lung. The air here must be as hideous as rumor has it — I got a lot of black schmutz off what appeared to be a white car. You could see the difference between the parts I had wiped and the rest of the car - definitely grayer on the uncleaned bits.

I think I will be applying another coat of wax, post haste. Oy.

In other news, ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ is, while extremely graphically violent, a good movie. Predictable in some respects but still very impressive. I had read blog reviews ranting about “too much of the war” and “not very much fantasy.” I think the fact that it’s not an American movie explains a lot of that; there are subtle bits, like the watch, and believable behavior on all sides rather than caving to stereotypes. Friend and I debated afterward about whether it was all fantasy on the part of the girl, or if the faun and the rest were real. You’ll have to decide for yourself. Beware if you’re squeamish, though. I closed my eyes sometimes. Fortunately there’s enough warning to do that.

Old Who was so, so entertaining. The dude with the electric falcon is just so Plastic! Locutus with a personality graft from Harry Mudd.

Also, love the Hare Krishnas with the MIND RAY OF DOOOOOOM.

3:43 pm: get home from library and gas station with shiny new car. Note mud spatters on white paint. Note that have not yet washed car in the couple of weeks since purchase.
3:52 pm: organize car care products. Lock kitty door; back car out of garage. Bring out the hose.
3:55 - 4:15 pm: wash car.
4:16 - 4:30 pm: squeegee excess water, then dry car with multiple towels. Move car back into garage, noting the return of moving neighbors with huge long trailer. Close garage door. Unlock kitty door to restore access to kitty litter.
4:30 - 5:00 pm: apply variety of detailing products appropriately, washing windows, cleaning and protecting dashboard, dusting, shaking out all-weather mats.
5:00 - 5:30 pm: apply wax to all but the trunk lid, which is too close to the garage door for comfort; buff. Admire shiny car, making faces to show off reflection in various panels.
5:52 pm: Go into garage to move wet laundry to dryer; note cat curled up on hood. Shoo cat. Throw very old afghan over shiny hood and tuck under windshield wipers to keep it from sliding off.
8:05 pm: BOOM! MeeeeeeeeeoooooooW!
8:06 pm: Go out in garage - note: afghan on floor in front of car, cat wigging out and darting between feet into apartment. Deduce cat jumped up, afghan slid under her weight on newly waxed hood, shot cat into the front of the washing machine, where she then ricocheted into (now overturned) laundry basket. Laugh butt off.
8:10 pm: put afghan on hood. Wait. Possibly cackling softly and holding camera.

I love a bowl of pea soup. I decided to make a whole pot of it and throw the results in the freezer, all the better to make lunches with.

The only problem with pea soup is, the whole apartment now smells like… feet.

I decided today that I wanted to give my car a bit more of a workout, and ran it on a 100 mile loop of freeway/highway that included the high desert, part of the grapevine/I-5 corridor, and a mountain pass. I’m happy to report that the entire trip was effortless for the car, which is more than I could say for the old one - I passed cars struggling with the grade, and passed more cars on the flat, and although I was going the same speed on I-5, lots and lots of cars flew by me like I was standing still, but I was still doing 70-80 mph so all the way round I congratulated myself on deciding to take the jump. The stereo skipped a few times on one of my home-made cd’s but has been otherwise well behaved. Filled up in a small town about halfway around and calculated that I went 24 mpg on the first tank, averaged - not bad since 2/3 of that gas went on city driving, which is notoriously bad for mileage, plus I’ve been drag-racing around; if I watch myself, I’ll probably be able to eke out better mpg on the commute.

It’s almost Monday again. Egad. Guess I need to figure out food. I have chicken marinating, so it won’t be too hard.

Action: Gas company sends honkin’ huge gas bill.
Reaction: I run out to get a) a digital programmable thermostat and b) hot water heater blanket.

Action: Friend’s electronics stolen from his apartment, calls me.
Reaction: FREAK the heck OUT because it’s happened to me twice before, then spend the week obsessing over how to make my apartment more secure, even though I know full well that anyone who wanted to could simply break a window.

Action: Boss gets confused and unfocused about what I’m trying to say.
Reaction: I provide detail and proceed slowly and with enough context so that she can tell who I am discussing from moment to moment.
Reaction: Boss laughs and says she doesn’t need that much detail, even though she did just fifteen minutes ago.
Reaction: as I walk from her office and across the building… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

Action: Friday at 5 pm comes, as expected.
Reaction: hit the door running and don’t look back!

Test driving more cars tomorrow. Yay. Arg.

And here I am doing ten things at once to distract my brain from workplace politics (gah), funny looks from parental units (ARG) who don’t quite believe in therapy but feel they need to drag in the kids to convince other entities they are doing due diligence (OF COURSE they have the best interests of the kid in mind, no question of that, we just sort of disagree what that is…), and the fifteen mistakes I made in pacing myself, overbooking myself and generally underestimating my Superhuman Qualities that led to not eating lunch….

So of course I’m working on the website, watching an episode of SG1, working on a story, and googling myself. Which leads me to discover random bits of what other people are saying about my fic, and also that Google leads me to other people’s link lists that include my handle, my stories, my livejournal…. I don’t remember google being so thorough before. All kinds of those fake link farm pages turned up, too. Also a bazillion posts to ASC echoed through various forums.

I should probably be reading a book instead, but it just isn’t enough at the moment. Maybe after I do some yoga and clear my head a little.

Or maybe take something to kill the head cold. Since there is no official cure, it may take some time to trial-and-error myself something that works. I’m thinking of starting with cheesecake and working my way through the ice cream, chocolate, caffienated beverage, and alcohol food groups. Of course, the cold may be preferable to a diabetic coma, but I’ll take my chances. I have a whole weekend to figure it out. If I exhaust all the options in the alcohol group I bet I can count on sleeping through next week. By then, the head cold should be gone.

I learned:

1. my cat purrs so hard she squeaks
2. it’s not going to snow here after all, but it will be freezing cold
3. the condescending and confusing person obliquely referred to previously in this blog is GOING AWAY. Thus solving a problem only a couple of weeks in the making.

Tomorrow, I go a-librarying. And possibly test driving.

So as usual I am debating whether to post something about what’s going on. Wondering a) who really reads this anyway and b) whether they’re anyone I know in the flesh.

What’s going on? Stress. I should never go into such detail here that it’s recognizable, I’ve decided, so I’ll leave it at this: disagreements and condescension and manipulation and politics. I hate politics. I hate condescension. I try to be straight and fair, and honest with coworkers. I try to let petty things go. But this is not petty, and it’s unfair.

So, document and document and wait for things to settle down, or work themselves up to a sort of frenzied defend-myself level. I’ve seen this game before.

In other news, I’m swearing off many book purchases, limiting myself to one a month. Of course, I had to order 6 books for the one purchase. They’re mostly used, and less than 10 bucks a book, but still. I also requested ones I didn’t order from the library.

This weekend, for the first time in months, I am visiting the family. It’s not exactly going to be fun. I chose a two day weekend to limit the hours I had to spend gnawing mum’s iron grip off my ankle. She’s already complaining about that.

I had to sit in a training yesterday for most of the day. The dude couldn’t figure out powerpoint so I was yelling answers. Mum said I had to fix their new printer. I will never get away from computer geeking for others, I fear.

Why isn’t it?

Dang.

CBC Radio | Quirks & Quarks | December 2, 2006

I learned this week:

1. Thinking about washing the car, followed by recognizing that it needs new wiper blades, will result in rain.

2. The less interested I am in a show, following a period of intense interest, the more likely my brain will suddenly think of fic that will inevitably start quite innocently then spiral into a series of shorts, novellas, and novels, as the grey matter attempts to rescue the show from its own dwindling quality.

3. My Inner Child is alive and well, and able to spring forth at a whim when confronted with charming lil’ urchins in need of better mental health. How I’m going to manage a session note for an hour of drawing crayon pictures with a cute little girl, I’m not certain. I think I may have found the long-dormant vestigial maternal instinct I thought I didn’t have.

4. I am apparently having a fannish affair with Mandy Patinkin that has more staying power than expected. I loved him in Princess Bride, fell for him again in Dead Like Me, and I’ve discovered Criminal Minds and now return to it again and again in order to view his weathered, kind face and hear his reassuring baritone. Which, since he does not have a British accent, is odd, as I’m usually drawn to That Deep Cultured Voice more than anything else, as evidenced by my yen for Sean Connery and Patrick Stewart.

5. As Christmas approach the Bah Humbug sets in. I think it’s the Year of the Gift Certificate.

Off to the housecleaning and the library. The latter to feed my unending yearning for decent fiction.

Today I went to the local university library and signed up for a card. As it is part of the CSU system, I learned, I could sign up as an alumni for a free card. Alas, I am not a member of the alumni association. I swore I wouldn’t join because of lingering bitterness over various incidents in which I had to practically beat people up to get paperwork done. (Well, not really, otherwise I’d be blogging from jail, wouldn’t I?) So I wrote a check for a community membership. The other alternative is to continue ordering various books that cost about the same as a year membership at the library.

I figured out today the total amount of money I spent on the move. I then cried for a bit, did four loads of laundry, ate something fattening, and realized I had voicemail. Like its predecessor, my cell phone appears to ignore incoming calls. Also, I opened my credit card bill and cried a while longer. Oy.

Monday is right around the corner. I actually look forward to going to work these days. It’s interesting how doing something you actually want to do makes a huge difference, eh?

I know I’m not getting all my mail. I just got a collections notice for something for which I was never billed. Granted, it was my old cell phone account, but I couldn’t change my address with them because the phone stopped working the instant my number was ported to the other service, and calling from anywhere else resulted in endless prompts to enter my account number, which was my cell number, which no longer belonged to them. Nor does logging in at their website appear to work. Although, that may have been me forgetting another password.

Security is a good thing, all right, but it sure t’d me right off getting a collections notice when I never even got a bill. And the notice was addressed incorrectly, too. It’s a wonder it even showed up in my box.

In other news, IT’S COLD HERE. Quite suddenly. And it rained. I attribute the rain to the serious thoughts of washing my car today. Pre-emptive rain!

I borrowed the first season of The West Wing from my friends. In the first three episodes, Jed the fictional president articulates a sane stance on abortion and politics and reacts to terrorists shooting down an American aircraft in a reasonable way (well, by the end of it he steps down to hitting a few military bases instead of bombing a whole country). And I’m thinking, where the H#^& are the politicians keeping the rational folks and why can’t we get them in office? Only on television are we going to get sane people in office.

In other news, I baked a cake, ruined my pasta/broccoli lunch by burning it to a crispy little wafer in the bottom of the pan, discovered that Longs does not sell ironing boards, and that there are now phones of the cordless persuasion that you can download ringtones and whatnot to, so when you’re running through the house tripping over the cat to get the phone you can do it to “Oops I did it again” or perhaps “Ricky don’t lose that number” or that old pop song that features some heartbroken guy singing about the telephone line needing to give him some time, as he’s listening to the girl not picking up the phone.

Also, I went nowhere and did nothing for Thanksgiving. Not even the movies. The line was hideously long for two days straight. And because I could not see the latest iteration of Bond, James Bond, I tried to watch Enterprise again yesterday. About the point where Archer tantrums about the aliens not giving them some part (carburetor? injector?) for the ship, only to find out that the aliens are offended because he let his dumb dog pee on one of their sacred trees, even though he knew from the start that 1. dogs are not people and do not have good manners, and 2. these people are easily offended, and 3. it is totally stupid dimwitted and idiotic to take less than well mannered crew along, let alone a dumb beagle who shouldn’t be on the ship in the first place — and then! and theeeeeen, he tantrums some more because the dog got SICK! on the mission he shouldn’t have been on in the first place! Talk about logical consequences!

Yet still, Archer does not learn. I waited long enough to see that the explanation wasn’t that Archer got stuck in a transporter accident that turned his brain into that of a four year old, which still wouldn’t have been much of an excuse considering the crew of the 1701-D were actual children (after their transporter accident) and managed to act more like adults than this clod, and then I put in Constantine, hoping that Keanu Reeves and His Wooden Acting Skills would amuse me more. And they did. Probably because I have no expectations of Keanu, and I do seem to have lingering expectations of the actor formerly known as Sam Beckett, who I actually liked.

So now I want two bumper stickers: “Jed Bartlett for President”, and “Fire Archer! Bring Back the Shat!” And something tells me it’s already been done.

And now, on to “Blake’s 7.” If I’ve got to go back in time to get watchable sci fi, so be it.

Good: third client showed up today.
Bad: I’ve been calling people for two weeks solid. I should have ten.
Good: Payroll went in last week.
Bad: Direct deposit doesn’t seem to work. It should have been there yesterday.
Good: Supervisor likes my writing skillz.
Bad: No clients, not much to write.
Good: Still breathing, eating, and sometimes even reading or writing.
Bad: Need to finish hanging the garage/kitchen door. It’s cold in here.
Good: Settling in and setting up array of toys necessary to do my job.
Bad: Still lacking a Really Good Poster. And at home all the walls are bare.
Good: Like co-workers. They seem to like me.
Bad: Everyone is really behind and really busy.
Good: Totally stoked.
Bad: Totally deprived of any energy or creativity to blog. So much to do! So much to fix!
BAD: My window on the passenger door, driver’s side, will not stop sliding down on the freeway, thus treating me to cold blasts and lots of traffic noise, and occasional diesel engine stench.
Meh: I have run out of things to say. I go now to re-hinge a door.

I seem to recall your desire to write House fic, but feeling intimidated by the level of detail necessary in medical terminology.

Have no fear. The writers of House don’t care much about that, actually. Here we are: Television Without Pity » House » Lines In The Sand

There are a number of things wrong with this scenario. This is about Valley Fever, a fungal infection that you can get by inhaling dust kicked up in central regions of California, particularly desert or high desert areas.

Here’s the thing: it ain’t like this.

“He asks Ali if she was in an earthquake during her recent trip to Fresno. She says there was a small one, and House tells her that she’s not in love with him: she has a spore in her brain. Enh, same difference. A fungus called Coccidioides immitis lives in California soil, only to be released into the air by those frequent earthquakes and breathed in by anyone stupid enough to live in the evil dangerous hellpit that is California. It causes the milky tears he saw Ali crying as well as those aches and pains and cold-like symptoms both she and her dad were suffering from. It can also cause “loss of inhibition and judgment,” i.e. thinking House was a great romantic prospect.”

1. NO EARTHQUAKES IN FRESNO. The central valley ‘burg of Fresno lies nowhere close to a fault. The last earthquake I felt was over a decade ago; it sort of jiggled the apartment. The only reason I woke up at all was my bird shrieking — birds are very sensitive to earthquakes. Certainly there was no dust thrown up by it. Earthquakes happen somewhere else, like Coalinga.

There are, however, plenty of construction sites. And those are very good at stirring up dirt, as are dust storms. But we all know California is just shaking itself apart with the earthquakes, so no mundane little thing like a bulldozer will do.

2. The symptoms are half right - Valley Fever can have the cold/flu symptoms, and lots of others that appear some of the time, but not all of the time. “Milky tears” aren’t on the list, nor is loss of inhibition. Sputum, skin lesions, chest pain, headache, rales, meningitis, and other things you can find here can happen. Pretty much everyone who lives in the central valley is exposed; a fraction of those develop symptoms, and lots of us develop a mild case and/or immunity. My grandmother died of complications that came about because she had Valley Fever, not because of the fungus itself. I worked with an African American who missed lots of work because of problems with Valley Fever; he always sounded like he had pneumonia. Simply writing a scrip doesn’t always help. Of course, House might not have known that - but you’d think he would have done a little research and referred the patient to someone with expertise?

Anyone with a link to WebMD could do a better job than this. Also, California=Earthquakes R Us? not so much. Lazy, Lazy. Bottom line? House is ALREADY as poorly researched as most fanfic. We could certainly do better, even if our only resource were wikipedia.

While driving about searching for rentals in New!Town yesterday, I stopped at a light and waited the excessively long time you always wait when turning left from an expressway, and watched a guy in droopy jeans walking. He swung his arms like he might be trying out for a bit part in a play, maybe “man walking with Great Purpose and Vigor”, and if he’s lucky he might be chosen to paint the backdrop. I would have thought it an aberration but I looked the other way and saw a professionally dressed woman in the crosswalk doing the same walk — arms swinging, long strides, head up and back, march!

They were of two ethnicities, dressed to fit in two different demographics, and so I started to wonder — is this just the way people in this town walk? Was one of them making fun of the other? And why did the guy reverse course twice, walking along the same half a block?

I also wanted to know why the apartments I wanted to live in were all occupied, but that’s rather less a mystery — of course affordable AND nicely appointed will be occupied. Come Sunday I’ll likely be in my friend’s guest room.

Or at least until I start the job - and I have no new apartment secured, and not much of a clue of when I will.

I taught the parenting class last Saturday and sounded like a quacking duck — getting over the head cold from hell and all, and totally wanting to jump back in bed, I managed to hit the points on the lesson plan without much trouble. I was also as charismatic as a paper towel, but we can’t have everything.

Yesterday Roommate said, “let’s go to Yosemite!” and so we did. Fall colors v. nice. Of course, I left the camera at home. We ate in the lodge, and sat in the bar listening to other people cheer at football as we read the voting materials and moved on to books. And of course we walked around the valley looking at the trees and he took pictures of the most gorgeous maple you’ve ever seen, and nearly got hit by herds of bicycles.

Today? I need to turn in things to boss, and make a bunch of phone calls as a prelude to another rental search. Because I have to be at work Monday.

Surprisingly, I’m also still writing and doing some other stuff in between - something to keep me from obsessing over the specter of homelessness.

There comes a time in every live-together relationship when you want nothing more than to break something over the head of the other party.

Roommate tends to get really short and snippy and hissy when he’s really focusing on something he’s doing on the computer. So I’ve pretty much stopped trying to talk to him then, instead saving things for tv time, as he’s generally watching something on dvd and those can be paused.

I, too, get snippy when focused on something on the computer. Especially when it’s bills, balancing the checkbook, or some iffy online application that has hideous inconsistent cooperation with my attempts to fill it in.

So what happens? He gets back from four days of incessant relaxation and computer gaming at his brother’s house, and I’m getting home. He’s all bubbly and talkative, and I’m focused on two things. Paying bills, and filling out an application that MUST be mailed tomorrow.

RM: *boing boing boing* sohowwasyourweekend!
Me: *updating financial software* grrrrr. fine.
RM: Did you (endless stream of things I didn’t hear)?
Me: *glare, opens application*
RM: I blah blah blah — You’re not listening, are you?
Me: *stares at pile of open bills, stares at open job application on screen, looks at RM* Do you actually listen when I talk to you while you’re doing this stuff?
RM: Oh. I’m ordering pizza for us. *zzzoooom*

Happily, we both have a license to grump at each other, without getting all wounded and whimpery about it.

Unfortunately, the neighbor’s kids started screaming when Roommate left the room, and I can’t growl at them.

Nude wet meat soil bandit caught | Metro.co.uk

And from the headline, you would expect… a guy stealing nude wet meat and maybe soil?

No. But it’s still pretty doggone weird.

I went to the local Sprint store. I must say that cell phone stores are an experience. I’ve always gotten mine online, so this was a first, but I wanted to know what my $$ would be getting me into.

Boy, what a bunch of toys. Like crackerjack prizes. Flimsy plasticy things that look like they should knock three digits off the price. Of course, you don’t really pay for the shell, you pay for the Bluetooth and the fancy MP3 ringtones and whatnot, but if the thing is going to ride around in the end pocket of my purse it shouldn’t scratch easy, nor should it be the size of a Cheerio.

Do I want a camera phone with video, with still, or no camera? Do I want speakerphone? What about web stuff? They all have web stuff, or at least they’re capable of it. Even if the screen is thumbnail-sized. One of them had a click wheel. Another had a hideous coloration, another had buttons I’d have to use a stickpin to press. The free phones seriously look like they belong in the hands of toddlers — icky pastel colors and totally cheap plastic.

I’m tossed between a nice matte-finish Motorola and another black phone with Bluetooth and a tiny display that shows who’s calling without opening the clamshell. But it’s a sure thing I’ll order on the web - activation is free that way. Which brings me to another thing - why they have stores at all. The place was totally empty, and the sales guy practically jumped into my arms. Distraction! Of course, he also had a really neat phone he could play games on, between customers.

Amazon.com: Torpedo Juice: A Novel

Either I have read too much fanfic, or that title sounds too much like an offbeat metaphor. The cover art does not help matters.

I figured the guy would have something with squid, looking at the other titles with his name on, but alas.

I found a pocket of adults who do not automatically connect the internet with porn. How do I know? We (50 of us) are in social services type training (one of my many attempts to further my skillz in order to get a job that’s actually supposed to help my career as a therapist) and the current topic is gender roles, society, what reinforces the old static stereotyping, blah blah. The presenter is showing slide after slide of ads depicting women. One of the ads shows a cpu being held by a pair of tweezers with a circuit board in the background. Across the bottom is the Lycos search window and logo. The right half of the panel is … a pair of large, round women’s breasts, in a blue bikini top.

The speaker announced “talk about pointlessly connecting something to sex in advertising.”

I’m all, “Dude! It means: On the computer connected to the internet you can search for P0RN using Lycos! DUH!” Because of course, the closest to showing actual nekkid boobies in a magazine ad is really big boobies in a bikini.

Everyone else (nearly, I think there was myself and two or three others who just stared) nodded and agreed with him. I said nothing. It only would have made eight hours in an uncomfortable chair into more than eight hours, and possibly annoyed staff of a clinic I hope to work in.

…now include my sis in law’s schedule.

We’ve been following this pattern. We talk on the phone, usually because she called — my cell doesn’t always ring through to her phone, for some reason known only to the folks at Cingular, or possibly TinyTown Phoneco. She says, next Saturday. And then the weekend comes and she doesn’t call or show up, and I realize that this isn’t happening quite the way I believed it would. So now I’m practically a sis in law atheist — it’s hard to believe she exists when she never shows up.

Well, I take that back - she did show up for my graduation. But my brother drove her here.

Another little mystery — why am I so unmotivated these days? I think perhaps that I am beginning the slide into depression, partically induced by the complete silence from everyone to whom I’ve sent a resume. I know I have no experience BUT YOU AREN’T HELPING THAT, you people who think I’m useless just because I graduated a few months ago.

Each morning, I wake to the dulcet tones of MY ROOMMATE’S BLARING ALARM CLOCK, which he leaves going when he gets in the shower, and which I must march down the hall to turn off before it drives me INSANE, and of course by then I’m too awake to savor lounging about half-asleep until my own alarm bothers to go off. This morning I was THIS CLOSE to throwing his alarm clock in the shower with him.

Although I think burying it in the kitty litter might be more satisfying.

Or in the garden. Or perhaps tie it to his muffler.

And I have a spider bite that itches mightily. Hmm, maybe the grumpiness/depressedness isn’t so mysterious.

Nor is the package I got from Costco. Although it totally took me aback. They sent me a single razor. Rather than an ultimatum to shave, I took it as ‘buy the cartridges to refill it.’ They’re so confident I’ll like the Gillette Fusion enough to buy cartridges in bulk, they sent me one free. Of course, it’s not the battery operated version, so I’m not too impressed. Also, it’s a little alarming-looking — all those sharp edges in one place. What if I shave off a layer of skin with my leg hair?

Who knew there was so much competition between disposable shaver manufacturers? Learn something every day, around here.

Someone moved into the complex with a wildly-screaming sprog. This is not doing anything for my already shaky ability to concentrate. It starts about six in the morning and continues to happen randomly throughout the day, as the kid protests some one thing or another.

My neighbor with whom we share a wall has three kids, one of whom apparently likes to bang on the wall. I rearranged my furniture so they aren’t banging directly over my head at night, which is when it gets bad.

Kids. Hmph. I’m not likely to see any of them in my family - adopted nephew is already a teenager, and it’s not looking like sis in law is slowing down any time soon. She’s working her way through to be a nurse. I’m certainly not going to have any, as in a few months I will have hit the magic threshold beyond which having kids only increases the odds of all manner of defect, and I’m not a gambler. Nor am I sufficiently paired with any entity who will assist me in raising one. Roommate offered to buy me a bookcase for a graduation present, but that’s not in the same league with 18 years of nurturing and lunch money and clothes and college fund building.

I will probably continue to work with them, however, which is fine with me. I’m told I’m pretty good with kids. To which I think, yeah, I know when they’re going home. I can work with anyone as long as I know when they’re going home. Even Evil Bosses. Who, in retrospect, are a whole lot like kids - impulsive, demanding, loud…. No wonder I’m good with kids.

… with a calypso beat. It was the soundtrack of my day. We were trying to recover files from a hard drive that did this 10-15 times, paused, did it again, etc. for as long as the power was on.

Also, cleared two shelves of inventory and crap, separating the two — inventory to orderly piles/boxes/shelves, crap into disorderly boxes.

Also, the blog must have been down for a while. Thanks, random MySQL error.

Also, fixed the PDA that Geekfarm assigned to me. Pocket PC - not fun. Found free games for the Pocket PC. Hopefully it will stop having random Windows system errors long enough to play them.

Also, five pages of fic yesterday, and two today.

Also, tired.

No interviews. No calls. Bleh.

Today, I decided to migrate my site to some sort of content managing software, thinking it would simplify the whole process if I could a) cut and b) paste and c) click a button that would immediately post the Big Wad of Text to the internet without my having to match all the little code widgets with the little slash that turns ‘em off, miss a squillion, then have to comb through the pages looking for the missing thingie.

I should probably sound more technical than that when discussing my revamp of the Geekfarm’s website, shouldn’t I?

Anyway, when I came back from my reality check (me? revamp? BWA! that would be work!) I then decided to actually do some job searching. Which I do every day without fail, really, what with being underemployed and all. So I hit the major job search sites, signed up for yet another bot that will email me jobs that match my criteria, altered a bot I had set up at Huge HMO’s site so it would stop sending me nursing job ops, and twenty minutes later I’d sent another resume and moved on to a glass of tea and some serious reorganization of my iTunes folder.

And then I read some fic, and totally fell for the author’s site — wow. I could make my site that organized and wonderful and easy to use. So now I’m staring at instructions on how to do that. But I can guarantee that now that the LJ feed is fixed, I will look at the complexities involved and say, uh, Self, y’all’s crazy. And I might have a fic done soon at this rate.

If I can quit playing Civilization IV. Man. It’s great to be queen!

ADHD? Only since I got the internet. Seriously, every five minutes it’s something else. I used to be able to focus well enough to read WHOLE BOOKS in a sitting. I am so jealous of my younger self.

I was reading a column at Bookslut, The Spy Who Didn’t Suck, and thinking about series– specifically, ones spawned by a single creator who does the writing which then gets turned into movie versions by others, or not, and then the whole series goes down in history like the Narnia books or James Bond or Nancy Drew. Or V.C. Andrews, whose books haven’t been written by V.C. since s/he died but continue to run her name on the cover.

If you were writing a series that saw wild success, how would you feel about the notion that, on the event of your death, someone else would not only pick up where you left off, they were going to finish works in progress? It’s not precisely the same thing as fanfic, which some authors don’t mind and largely ignore while others go batshit insane lambasting ficcers with letters from attorneys. Fanfic is like looking at set characters through a kaliedescope, with hundreds of versions that may or may not be similar to the original; there’s no question really that the originals exist elsewhere. Characters would be reinvented by another person and that would be canon.

How attached to your original characters are you? Would you care if your son (like Christopher Tolkein) published all your drafts and notes? Or wrote more adventures of Mary Sue?

Over the weekend Roommate decided it was time to hit the road, and so I climbed in his small Honda SUV and rode with him to Yosemite, land of really long lines at the park entrance and really big buses of tourists. A hundred or so miles later (a heartbeat in California terms) we reached Hetch Hetchy via long narrow roads built before Tahoes and Hummers were a part of the landscape. And roads in the 30’s would follow the contour of the land, rather than cut through hills and mountains, so switchbacks and digressions were the order of the day. It took around 40 minutes to travel the 16 miles of road in to see the lake.

There’s a movement to restore the Hetch Hetchy valley. The dam was built in the early 1900s and John Muir, among others, protested — it was already a park at that point. If you look at photos of the original valley, you see something not unlike Yosemite Valley itself — huge granite cliffs and a river winding through a gorgeous broad valley. (The photos are black and white, but still.) I can see why people want to do it, but the opposing side says this lake is part of SF’s watershed and needs to continue to exist. There are signs and patrolling rangers to keep you from swimming in the lake, watering your animals in the lake, or otherwise tainting all those gallons of water that will end up in some San Franciscan’s drinking glass.

We hiked part of the way around it, about two miles out and back, to a falls where we found a shady spot under a huge boulder to sit at the foot of the waterfall and drink gatorade. I, of course, sweat away my sunscreen and had to borrow Roommate’s hat for the return trip.

I managed to whack my forehead with the door of his SUV. Lovely knot over my right eye. And then, much to my consternation, I left my Ray-Bans in the restroom at the lake, and realized it only when we’d driven all the way out to the highway, and as they were hundred dollar glasses and a Christmas gift we went allllll the way back and found them right where I’d left them as I changed out of grimy stinky hiking clothes — on the toilet tank in the end stall.

Sunday was quiet and productive, in that I cleaned like a madwoman. And then burnt up my battery charger. If you hear sizzling and smell cooking synthetic material, don’t dismiss it as a dream like I did. When I finally got up to look for whatever it was, I found one toasted rechargeable AA battery and a melted charger. Close call. I don’t understand what that was about, but good deal that I was home to prevent the eventual incineration of the apartment.

I wrote lots yesterday in between cleaning projects. I need to continue writing lots. It’s good for me. I actually find myself looking forward to the week.

That’s what it is?

In my car with no air conditioning, on the way home yesterday, every other stoplight was out - which only happens when it’s really hot, and around here that means not 100F but more like 110-115F. And so not only is my AC dead, my work clothes on, and my lungs collapsing in agony, but my car is heating to core-of-the-sun temps and traffic is backed up for miles because of all the brainless wonders who can’t manage to parse the notion of “take turns moving through the dead stoplight” and play chicken or stop-and-start until everyone else lets them go. A fifteen minute drive turned into half an hour. And the heat’s not going away for a while.

I know that there is a class every day at 5:30 pm at the yoga studio. I showed up thinking I was going to flow tonight, after a trying day at the temp job, and discovered the schedule changed since Tuesday. So I went to intermediate vinyasa.

I think I left a gallon of water behind, but I feel good. Well, except for my rubbery legs, sore knees and gimpy arms, but, good.

Temp job is simple — sit reading a book until six or seven lines ring, then try to say everyone’s name correctly, route the calls quickly, and remember the magic sequence to page people. There are people in this world who have too many consonants in their name for anyone’s good.

Lost: ????? !!!!!! O_O

Sopranos: I can tell they’re winding down. Last season. Plots and subplots adrift, everyone seems complacent.

Dr. Who: Ten is so cute. Rose is still an annoying little girl at times. WTF Mickey? Of all the places they’ve been, why there? ( am still remembering last week’s of course, no direct access)

Recently Acquired: TOS season 3, Deadwood Season 1 (which I had rented previously but want to rewatch), most of Grey’s Anatomy, and Babylon 5.

In related news, today is officially my Day of Loafing. I have ice, margarita and mudslide materials, munchies, books, and enough tv watching goodness for weeks of lounging about. It’ll be just me and the crazy cats loafing about shedding.

Tomorrow, I will finish paperwork at clinic, see the final two clients, hug everyone good-bye, and come home to renovate the resume, prowl the want ads, call to follow up on apps, and otherwise continue the launch process. And also call the temp agency to announce availability.

Thank you, Penny, Rocky, Jerie and Pam! Not only for the congrats, but for showing up — here I was thinking I had a readership of one or two…. Have to clean the place up.

Which isn’t the reason for the upgrading and new themes and so forth, but it could be one reason, I suppose. I like the new Wordpress - the dashboard is spiffier. But I’m having problems getting the widgets to work, and the new book review plugin isn’t showing the review or the library. I think I’ll focus on the widgets first.

Speaking of the book reviews - I’m putting together a reading list of authors and books and so forth. I figure now I’ll have time to get back to Power Reading. And when I am reading lots, I tend to write more….

Late to the party as usual, but happy birthday, Jerie! Hope your day was filled with fun, friends and a really good birthday cake, since we all need a little decadence on our natal anniversary.

I think I’ve been to more baby showers than any other sort of organized gathering. Yesterday I went to one for my friend T - she had two, actually, and this one was the friends-family-people she works with shower. (Don’t know what the other one was, think it was at work or something.)

I made my gift(s) - several Saturday afternoons when I should have been studying, I made afghans, hats, and a floppy blanket bunny. She registered at a baby gear store and everyone else (18 of us came) went there. Due to a screwup with the registry she now has four strollers in addition to the miles and miles and piles and boxes and bags of blue baby clothes - onesies, overalls, shorts, shirts, hats, socks…. When it came to my gift, she opened a plastic sweater box that I used for the container - everyone exclaimed over what a clever idea that was, but mom-in-law (who is totally cool) turned to me and said “that’s right, you lived there,” meaning the six months I spent living in one of their seven bedrooms after having my apartment burgled, meaning I know she needs airtight, bugproof, rodentproof storage. And then the different items were passed around and ooooooed over - “you made this? really?”

A lot of showers I’