it’s better than rain
Thursday. Garbage day. Maybe the internet stalkers can puzzle out where I live based on that; I hope not. Today is also your last chance to vote in the You Decide Friday Poll, where you can tell me what to write tomorrow. And, whoever cheated and added the "all of the above" option (which, crappily, is currently winning), I'm totally gonna ignore that and default to whatever's behind it - all of the above is cheating, sorry. Anyway, let's get onto this blogging thing...
Was another gorgeous day in Sunny California today. Most of the trees are in bloom now, hastening their way to Spring green. As I drove back to work after lunch, I cut through an airborne swirl of little pink and white dogwood blossoms, whirling and twirling like Springtime snowflakes. I kept waiting for some to flitter in through my open windows or sunroof, maybe land on my shirt or something – but not a one did. I was happy on that drive, not just because of how neat it was to be driving through a haze of blossoms, but because I’d met Sharaun and Keaton for lunch at a park nearby work. We had chicken sandwiches (have to consume that thoughtful rotisserie chicken I so rudely spurned Monday evening), and Kristi and Colton, who also joined us, brought some potato chips and soda. I ate my sandwich sprawled on the grass, then played around with Keaton for an hour or so before reporting back to the sawmill. Was a good lunch, even though I did put $70 of gas into the Ford on the way back… stupid dead dinosaurs… cost so much.
That's really all I have tonight. It was a late dinner at a friend's place, a fellow manager at the sawmill to be precise. While we supped, we discussed creative ways to turn the screws at work, discussing our eventual ascent up the pile of overworked bodies to the top of the pecking order. No, not really. In reality, we played with the kids and talked about the trip to Mexico we're both going on in the near future. I enjoy not being at work with work people, it's fun sometimes. I've really made some good friends through the sawmill.
Well, before I leave you, you'll get one last chance to vote on the theme for tomorrow's entry right below. Thanks to those who voted already.
Goodnight everyone, check ya on the flipside.
feelin’ breezy
Hi there internet people, I love ya.
A good Wednesday to you, hope your week is going well. Today, I wrote a little bit about nothing, but managed to llink to entries ranging back some five years. So, even though today's content may not be all that stunning, hopefully you can poke around the links and find something to kill those five minutes you count on sounds familiar for. Enjoy it.
This morning when I got out of the shower, pulled some boxers over my dusted junk, and headed into the closet to decide what I’d wear to work, I was happy to see that the clothing fairy had paid my two rungs of clothes a visit. The pair of jeans that fit me best (not from an external point of view, where they are saggy and bunchy in the wrong places, but from the vantage of my own personal comfort wearing them) had magically materialized – I’d been unable to find them for a couple weeks now – and I discovered an orangey-kinda-salmon collared shirt that seemed new to me.
Intrigued, I pulled the coral-colored thing off the hanger and held it up to my undershirt-clad chest for a quick check in the mirror. “Hmmm… not bad, feels ‘Florida’ to me,” I thought. I unbuttoned a couple buttons around the neck and pulled it on over my t-shirt, smiling at myself in the mirror, a pink-orange Don Johnson air about me. “Yeah, this shirt makes me look so ‘breezy,’” I thought to myself, knowing it was the perfect adjective.
Anyway, since I don’t really build a ton of variety into my weekly rotation of clothes, I was happy to have assembled something I felt “breezy” in. I felt like I belonged beachside somewhere, sipping an umbrella’d drink and eating fish or something. As I strode confidently into the living room to get some coffee, pack up the laptop, and head out to work – Sharaun noticed my shirt. “You know there’s a grease-stain right in the middle of that shirt, right?”
Tragedy! Sadness! Crushing disappointment!
First let me say that I hate grease stains. It’s the stain that’s not a stain. Just a tiny little piece of fabric that somehow now just a little darker than the rest, a bit of permanent wetness that seemingly nothing can salvage. I get these stains on my shirts all the time, maybe because I eat a lot of greasy things, maybe because I’m a sloppy eater, maybe I’m just sloppy and greasy… the particulars aren’t really that important here. Thing is, I hate these stains. They inevitably draw the eye, and they’re more frustrating than an overt stain of say red ketchup or brown coffee – they just sit there, almost-hidden… making you look bad and sloppy and simultaneously decrying your love for, and poor handling of, greasy food.
Anyway, sure enough – there was a small dark splotch right over the center of my sternum. Sighing, I lamented, “Oh man I thought this shirt was brand new, I don’t even remember ever wearing it before.” “You did, once,” she replied, “Remember you got it for Christmas in Florida, and that same day you dripped hot-wing grease on it.” “Stupid and delicious hot-wings, being all greasy,” I cursed in my head. Having already convinced myself I was some Miami Beach ladies man in the thing, though, I decided to wear it anyway. I mean, I have to wear a badge to work in the end, and as suave as that makes me look – the stupid lanyard that hangs it from my neck also does a fair job covering the stain. And, let’s face it, Don Johnson never had to pick up ladies wearing this thing around his neck (Man, that hair! Thank goodness for September 25th, 2003).
'Night online compatriots, I have deep emotions in my chest when I think of you. Until tomorrow.
wherever i roam
Monday night and, despite my best intentions, I ended up at the bar for St. Patrick's Day after work instead of home in the garage repairing my downed shelving. It started out as an innocent non-commitment to some friends at work. You know the kind, where you say to your encouraging buddy, "Yeah, I dunno, maybe I'll swing by after work - I'll let you know." Most males know this for a fancy-worded version of, "Nah, I'm gonna pass, but I'll patronize you with niceties anyway." It's understood, you could go, it's entirely feasible - you just won't. Occasionally, you'll be challenged on these non-commitments, and it's then that you have to decide where your loyalties lie.
For me, and tonight, it was an easy decision: Sharaun was at her pregnant teen-moms thing, and she'd taken Keaton along (man, I hope Keaton doesn't learn anything from those teens...), so I effectively had a kitchen pass until around 9pm. Even though she'd bought a rotisserie chicken for me, and left me handwritten instructions on the various sides I could make for myself (salad: tomatoes and cucumbers are in the bottom drawer; au-gratin potatoes: the box is in the cupboard; and garlic rolls: they're frozen, bottom shelf of the freezer), I decided to instead join the crew at the brewpub for a drink to the patron saint of Ireland. I spent about $15 on beer, $13 on a dinner of shepherd's pie, salad, a side of potatoes, and bread (starch-laden, just the way I like it).
But, I did manage to make it home by 8:30pm so I get to see Keaton before she goes to bed... and that's where I am now: Sitting on the couch typing while I await the arrival of my family. I even sliced off some of that (now cold) chicken and ate it, just so all my wife's efforts to take care of her poor helpless lout of a husband in her absence weren't entirely wasted. The chicken was good, and I'm able to listen to the iPod a little too. So, in all, it was a a good evening - even if I didn't lift a finger to get the garage shelf (and all its contents) up off their pile on the floor (which, incidentally, happened to fall right on top of our other garage-pile, making some kind of stunning super-pile - read yesterdays' entry if that doesn't make sense).
Well folks, that's about all I have. But, in closing, I just wanted to share an image I received in an e-mail from a dear, dear relative - one who believes all Democrats are direct spawn of Satan, and only Republicans can get into Heaven (I'm not sure she really believes this, it's just a comedic device - and, really, I do love her... for-serious-real). This was attached to a long mail about how President Bush is the Second Coming of Christ or something (read the thing here, if you're interested - but note Glenn didn't really say it all), but it was so good I had to share it all by its lonesome:
See, all the hubbub over that Abu Ghraib business was totally overblown, because... I mean, when you put it in context... look what Kennedy did. I was all like... wow...
Goodnight my friends.
a firm belief in entropy
Happy Sunday night Sunday night people; Happy Monday morning Monday morning people.
Sitting around now drinking some better-drink-it-tonight wine before it goes to vinegar, listening to the iPod shuffle up some tunes, and helping Sharaun decide what to make for dinner by suggesting my all-time go-to, spaghetti. "Why is it always spaghetti?," she asks rhetorically. "It's my secret punishment for you not having dinner planned," I think in my brain while I say, "Because I like spaghetti," out loud (neither is less true than the other). Long blog tonight, words just came. I resisted the urge to split-and-save, and just plonked it all down in as best a logical order as I could find. Enjoy.
Today I had decided that, after church, I wanted to get out into the yard and do some work. Yesterday I was out and mowing the lawn early enough that the puffs of my exhaled breath hung like small clouds in front of my face, trying to beat forecasted rain that never did show up. Today, I had plans to finish up the fence and maybe plant some new plants. Of course, per my standard work ethic, I got slightly less than that done. I did manage to finish up edging in the backyard (the stupid rechargeable edger ran out of juice with just under half to go, I swear I'm buying a gas one), tend to some plants, do some weeding, and actually do as much as I could on the fence without making the final trip to the hardware store for the pieces I needed (I was slightly less motivated than needed for a trip to the store).
While I was out laboring under the cloudless sunny sky, Keaton joined me, following me around and offering her "help" whenever she could. Unsurprisingly, I eventually broke down and ended up laying in the grass with her blowing bubbles from a bottle and wand she found somewhere. That was so fun, I decided to go ahead and taunt the weather Gods by breaking out the hammock and Summertime patio-set cushions and umbrella (I had uncovered the barbecue a week ago, and have cooked on it twice already in these infantile days of Summer). Keaton helped me fasten the cushions onto the chairs with their little Velcro loops, and immediately wanted to "fwing" in the hammock (which is the real reason I broke the thing out to begin with).
I figure, if I had to tally it all on a timesheet for a foreman, I'd have about one and a half solid hours of work, and an equal amount of time spent blowing bubbles, swinging with Keaton in the hammock, and running around the yard togehter. It's the kinda workday I man can get into, you know? If only one of those burrito trucks would've come buy hawking quesadillas and nachos midway through or something... it woulda been tops.
Nerd stuff ahead, fast-forward if you want:
Oh, and, not that you care (or notice, I'll bet) I fixed a few particularly annoying (to me) stylesheet bugs here on the site this weekend. One, I got rid of the stupid green bullets Internet Explorer put next to the poll choices from Friday's entry (Firefox rendered them fine, but I had to hack around IE's stupidness, and IE still doesn't do the dynamic AJAXy stuff right like Firefox does). Two, I also finally fixed the fact that IE rendered the "recent comments" section of the sidebar with absolutely no gap between the comments (Firefox, of course, handled this perfectly and as intended). So, because it's an inelegant fix, the gap in Firefox is now slightly larger than I'd like, while the IE gap is slightly smaller. Hey, it's the best I could do without getting too fancy. Hope it enhances your experience (yeah, sure).
Nerd stuff over.
Let me tell you folks, I'm a firm believer in the concept of entropy. Defined as, "Inevitable and steady deterioration of a system or society," I'm so convinced in the concept because I see it happening before my eyes all the time: Before I leave for work, I clear off my tiny third of the dresser-top (Sharaun gets two-thirds, I get the rest, this is just how it goes); when I return from work, the same surface which was just hours ago neat and tidy is now littered with washed and folded clothes, keys, stray earrings and other jewelry, receipts, and all other manner of crap. Entropy.
One day, upon returning home from work, I notice that our game of Balderdash was, for some reason, sitting on the floor in the garage between our two cars. Over the next few days, Balderdash was joined by some large bag bulging with Lord knows what. Soon, there are clothes atop the pile, what looks like trash, toys and shoes. I have no idea where the pile is coming from, but it's not me. It's growing by the week, and shows no signs of stopping. The other day I swear I saw a couple Fraggles asking advice from it. To make matters worse, it's now spilling into the area where I walk, making the garage difficult to navigate. Entropy.
When I ask Sharaun about the slowly growing mound, she says, "Oh, that all came out of my car... I need to clean that up." Folks, I honestly have no earthly idea how that substantial pile came from her car, especially since her car is still so piled with junk it's hard to believe anything has ever been taken out of it. I guess, when the junk gets so high it spills out the open doors, she simply makes new piles. Now, let me say, I'm not trying to pick on her too much here... I mean I still love her and all. Entropy.
Then, tonight, Sharaun came home from an hour or so where I was home alone with Keaton, and came in the house to ask, "So... I guess you haven't been in the garage lately, right?" "What do you mean," I reply, "I was in and out of there all day today working outside." "Well, the shelf above your workbench completely fell off the wall, everything's all over the place," she says. I walk into the garage to see for myself... and yes, everything has really fallen off the wall. Three of the four metal 'L' brackets that tie the shelving into the studs are still attached to the wall, although one is bent, and the fourth is gone, ripped out entirely. Everything, from our hiking packs, to boxes full of who-knows-what, to the receiver for my ghetto garage sound system... everything... is stacked in a sprawling pile at the front of my truck. I didn't even stay in there long enough to contemplate the cleanup - I just sighed and moved on. Entropy.
Quick reminder that I'm running sounds familiar's first ever You Decide Friday poll, and for convenience I've reposted the voting right below for those who've yet to participate.
Thanks to those who've already voted, and thanks to the creative soul who mashed up the options to make their own... quite humorous. If you've not voted already, what are you waiting for?
Did I mention that Keaton's stuttering is back? If not: Keaton's stuttering is back. It's strange, because while she and Sharaun were in Florida, her previous bout simply disappeared. It was completely gone up until about three days ago (I even wrote about being happy it had seemingly cleared itself up), when, all of the sudden, she just started doing it again. Like I said before, I'm still not overly concerned, especially now that it's come and gone once already - it's just strange. I'll keep ya posted on the on-again-off-again-ness of it right here on the ol' blog, OK? OK.
Well, that's about it... goodnight people. Until tomorrow.
Post #1683
Thursday and I knew this weather couldn’t last.
The little weatherbar at the bottom of my FireFox window says there’ll be rain tomorrow, and today was cool and cloudy. Something in me must’ve known, because, even though I pulled the cover off the barbecue, I didn’t pull out the patio set umbrella, seat cushions, or hammock. But, I won’t be daunted. I still fired up the grill tonight to cook some tri-tip for the Lost crew (yes, we get together to watch Lost… we’re some kinda nerdy).
The tri-tip ended up a tad overdone, and Sharaun ended up mad at me for cutting her good pan (or something), being a lecherous drunk, and breaking one of our good wine glasses. I conceded two out of the three and apologized, but I thought I had a defensible position on the third and I stood my ground. Anyway, it was a good night, and I had a good time with our friends. Let's do this blog thing now.
Today on the blog, I wanted to debut something new I wanted to try. In an effort to battle bloggers-block, which is something I’ve been known to suffer from at times, although not lately I think, I sat down the other day and tried to come up with ideas for new content. And, while I didn’t come up with anything Earth-shattering as a deep well of new and exciting material, other than the standards I draw on now, I did think of a what might be a novel concept for driving content. The idea is something I want to try calling “You Decide Friday.” What this means is, occasionally, I will try posting a poll at the end my regular entry. In the poll will be a few topic ideas I’ve pre-populated, and users will be able to add their own ideas (I think, we’ll see how that works out). The idea being that I leave the poll open for a couple days and let folks vote on what they’d like me to write about the coming Friday.
I dunno, I think it could be fun… if I can get participation. Regardless, since it’s just a thought I can scrap it if I’m unhappy. So, that being said, today I’d like to present the first “You Decide Friday” poll. Use the voting options below to tell me what you’d like me to write about. You can choose from my already-populated ideas, or suggest your own (everyone will be able to see and vote on your suggestions). To add your own suggestion, click the "Add an Answer" link, type away, then press "Vote." And, for those wondering, yes - you can indeed cheat by deleting your pharaohweb.com cookies (I didn't enable the fancier anti-cheat IP logging because it's kinda crappy for folks who share IPs - all the people I work with). But, don't cheat, OK? Thanks.
What are you waiting for, start telling me what to do around here:
Changing subjects: Today I woke up feeling like Beatles, and decided to blast Sgt. Pepper on the way into work. With the windows rolled down, the drive was chilly… but it was worth it to let the world know that I 1) have amazing taste in music and 2) am not skittish about sharing that taste with them , you know, philanthropically, as a way to culture them a bit. As the familiar songs threatened to burst my eardrums, I couldn’t help but smile. When “Getting Better” came on, those initial guitar stabs nearly brought tears to my eyes. See, once upon a time, something happened to me in the backseat of a car while that song played, and I’ve never been able to get the memory and the song disassociated from one another. It’s not a bad thing, really, the feelings that swell up when I hear those first strains of rock and roll are nothing less than joy and ecstasy. Look, I’ve even written about this before… some four years ago. Wonder how long I’ll be able to almost perfectly call up those feeling and emotions when I hear that song… is that a lifetime thing?
Well, that's it for tonight friends. Be sure to enjoy your weekends, I'm gonna do my best with mine. Until Monday, goodnight - and don't forget to vote.
alternating fits of tears and rage
Hi Wednesday, it's me here again... writing... again... about... stuff... again.
Tonight, Sharaun had a volleyball game and I stayed home with Keaton. I decided to make banana bread for some reason, maybe to finally get rid of those blackish bananas frozen solid and strewn about the freezer shelves. When I set it to bake, Keaton and I walked down to the mailbox (remote communal mailboxes are all the rage in new California developments, further promoting the laziness of USPS workers).
I was barefoot, and she had on one sock. She shouted at the neighbors finishing up their lawn work as I pulled her past in the wagon, "I'm riding in a wagon and going to get the mail!" "Sounds fun!," they'd wave back. I occurred to me then, barefoot and pulling my daughter behind me in a wagon while my banana bread baked at home... I'm a straight-up woman. I'm just glad it wasn't my time of the month, or the realization might have had me in alternating fits of tears and rage right there on the sidewalk. Sheesh.
But, coming back to reality... I'm sitting here on the couch (where I always sit), with my laptop on my lap (where it always is), typing, web-surfing, and listening to music (like I always do). Right now some Most Serene Republic has shuffled up on the iPod, and the scatterstep popcorn beat has me giddy. I seriously love this band, and their albums have really stood the test of time (can you call less than five years "time?") for me.
On the new music tip, my primo-2008 playlist thus far consists of two measly albums. First, recently SNL-broken Vampire Weekend's debut, next, and finally, Cloud Cult's Feel Good Ghosts (Tea-Partying Through Tornadoes), which I think comes out in April sometime. Looking forward, I'm anxiously awaiting leaks from The Unicorns, The Hold Steady, Sufjan Stevens, Of Montreal, and the Postal Service. Sounds like it could be a rad 2008, huh?
Changing subjects now, and bear with me on this one… it’s kinda odd.
Oftentimes, when I eat, I have some sort of sinus-based reaction. Back in my younger days, I can remember my mother referring to a family “curse” which was supposedly to blame for members of her bloodline going into sneezing fits shortly after meals. But, while the mixture of my father’s lineage seems to have spared me from that curse, I do seem to suffer from some milder form. See, when I eat, my nose sometimes decides to run. I know this is common with particularly spicy food, but for me it also tends to happen with regular, run-of-the-mill, meals too. It’s not like it comes in torrents or anything, more like an annoyance. Nevertheless, it causes me to reach for the nearest napkin to stem the tide.
The reason I’m writing about this here, honestly, is to criticize myself. Because, usually, the napkin I end up grabbing to swab my schnoz is the same napkin I’m using to dab my mouth between bites. I find this personally disgusting, but the reality is that I usually don’t even notice I’m doing it until I’ve already done it. At which point I immediate grab another napkin and dedicate it to either nose or mouth usage, trying to place one on either side of my plate for easy differentiation. When I catch myself doing this, I often wonder if my tablemates have also noticed… and what they must think. To those who sup with me regularly, I’m sorry – I’m working on it.
And with that, I believe it's time to bid you all adieu, for I have nothing more to say (hard to imagine, right?). Time to put the laptop away until I do it all over again tomorrow. Love you all, goodnight.
panic, scatter, a complete halt
Heeyyyy guys. How's it going? Me, OK.
Monday, and an important one at that: The first day I’ve worn shorts to work since the cold and rain came so many months ago. I know that, here in California, we don’t have Winter that bad at all, but the temperatures still dip enough to make me want jeans… and that’s no small feat, since I generally hate wearing jeans. So, today, with the forecast actually calling for less sun than we had over the glorious weekend, I pulled on a pair of my favorite shortpants (olive green cargo style, probably went out of fashion a year ago, if they were ever in at all). I always feel a little unprofessional the first week or so when I make that Springtime transition from jeans to shorts. I can’t help it, really.
Problem is, my sawmill likes to think of me as some kind of lower-level management (I dunno, they just asked me one day if I wanted to be a manager... and I figured I did, so I did), and, in my mind, shorts just don’t fit the position. It’s an internal struggle, to be sure, so much so that it’s one I’ve had out publicly here before. I just feel like I should probably dress the part more, but my years sweating through humid Florida summers ingrained in me the virtues of shorts and flip-flops. So, I concede the flip-flops and get to feel at least a little more professional. It’s the best I can do, work… the best I can do. Don't ask me for much more, 'cause I'm ridin' that line pretty tight right now as it is.
Speaking of work... we're coming' up some some travel here soon, first off to Oregon for a quick working daytrip, then across the country to South Carolina for a couple more days work, and finally to Mexico for a weeklong family vacation (psst, the last one is the one I'm most excited about... in case you hadn't guessed). Then, once back, it'll be time to make a trip to China and Taiwan again, looking like a two-week run. And, I swear people, I am going to find a way back to Germany for Oktoberfest again this year... I'm bound and determined to make that a yearly pilgrimage. In fact, one of the 2007 alum sent out an e-mail blast today in attempt to rally the troops... and my mouth starting watering for that fresh Bavarian bier as I sat in my cube reading it. I just gotta get back.
Speaking of speaking of work... today around 4:45pm the place went "dark." Not dark like literally dark, the lights still worked, but what didn't was the phone and and network. The whole place, thousands of employees who sit in cubicles, each one of them either on a conference-call style meeting on the phone, or working on e-mail off the network. When the lines were cut, we were all blowing in the breeze. People began to stand up at their desks, rubbing bleary eyes as they flinch at the natural light, prairie-dogging over their cube walls to peer around the floor at what others were doing. "Your phone go down?," you'd hear. "Yeah, yours too?," would come the reply. "It's the whole site, the whole thing is down," someone chimed in. More heads appear, bones creaking as folks rose, muscles unused for hours working off memory and instinct.
Soon, people began to walk the aisles in search of other humans, almost like a renaissance of cognition. We gathered in small clusters, making humming sounds in our throats to comfort each other, banging on hard surfaces to make primitive rhythms, cracking knuckles as we waited for the familiar "pings" of new e-mails to chime in the distance, for the phones to ring. "What do we do?," some asked? "I can't be expected to do work with my hands, for God's sake," others lamented... peering at the skin on their baby-smooth fingers, hilariously useless for anything save typing. We called other sites on cellphones, Oregon first: "You guys have phone and internet up there? Oh... you do? OK... Well, we're totally down here. Yeah. Dead. We have nothing." Some called across the state, others called their families, still some their therapists.
And, thus began the exodus. I waited for nearly a minute in the right-turn lane to leave the parking lot, everyone filing past in their automobiles, looks of confusion and muted happiness on their faces as they drove - their faces gratefully buried into cellphones, once again suckling from the comfortable teat of technology. Having never worked a day in my life without e-mail or internet, it's hard for me to imagine how it happened back in the day. People must've written with pens and pencils, talked in person in around tables in meeting rooms, licked stamps, read memos - something. Today, you cut the wire and it's like you kicked the anthill of the modern worker. Panic, scatter, a complete halt.
Was a good day, I enjoyed the collapse of technology. Goodnight.
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