Merry Christmas, y'all!

Nothing much new here, except for the snow and the ice. Mom's getting weaker and Dad's increasingly becoming a royal pain in the arse. Same ol', same ol'.

Update

Well, we had Mom scheduled to start chemo the Wednesday after Thanksgiving, but she decided against undergoing treatment. The oncologist told us that only about 25% of non-small cell lung cancers (the ones associated with NOT smoking) respond to treatment, and as bad as she already felt, well, I couldn't really argue with her decision. And honestly, I doubt I'd have opted for chemo if I were in her position.

So Thanksgiving morning I headed to Athos' mom's house to have T-day dinner with them, spent the night, and drove back to my parents' house Friday morning . . . only to discover that Mom was having major heart problems. Atrial fibrillation is NOT your friend, folks, and neither is a chest cavity full of fluid! Off to the ER we went. In retrospect, we probably should have called the ambulance, but her doc just said "get her to the hospital".

Almost two weeks later she was released to go home. Why home instead of to the skilled nursing facility she really needed? Well, by that point the big mucking chest tube they used to siphon off several liters of fluid had been replaced with a smaller indwelling tube -- and apparently no one was willing to take responsibility for dealing with it. Let's get this straight: A drain set-up that the average lay person could be expected to handle after a single walk-through is too complicated for a trained health care provider?!? Gimme a f***ing break! The damn thing has a one-way valve in it, so the likelihood of ending up with pneumothorax is nil. Ditto for infection if simple, common-sense wound care is used.

So we got her set up for hospice care and took her home, and my aunt and I have been trading off "duty shifts" so Mom's never alone for more than a few minutes. One of us has been sleeping in the room with her, so as to be available if she needs anything in the night, while the other gets the bed for some uninterrupted rest. That's been working out pretty well, although we've both reached the point where we're needing some "away time" to avoid burnout and my aunt kindly allowed me to take the first break. We'll be going back down in a few days, then my aunt will go home to spend Christmas with her family.

Why haven't I been posting? Well, it's like this: My parents' house has no internet access whatsoever, not even dial-up, and I have yet to locate any place with free wifi in that town. But I was smart -- before I left home I bought a wireless broadband card so I'd have 'net access. At least, I thought I was being smart. It took three weeks of off-and-on trial and error on my part, and over SIX HOURS of intensive attention by my wireless carrier's "experts" to get the damned device working. (Side note: I really really miss Alltel. I could dial *611 and talk to an actual person without having to wade through an almost endless number of prompts and menus, only to be told to "hang up and dial ___".)

But with any luck whatsoever, I'll be able to post once I'm back with Mom....

The latest news

Lung cancer.

Adenocarcinoma, Stage IV.

Inoperable.

Incurable.

Ugly words. Scary words.

Words you never, ever want to hear.

Words that were spoken to my mother earlier in the week.

It started off a couple of months ago, when Mom noticed she was losing her stamina. She was no longer able to walk at the mall with my father. Then she started having serious trouble trying to breathe. They thought it was pneumonia, but she hadn't run a fever, and with pneumonia -- even so-called "walking pneumonia" -- one runs at least a bit of fever.

Finally Mom broke down and went to the minor emergency clinic because she couldn't breathe and felt like she was suffocating. The doctor took a chest x-ray, and discovered she had a large amount of fluid in the right side of her chest, and that was keeping the lung from inflating.

The x-ray also showed a 5 cm by 6.5 cm mass in her upper right chest. That's where all the fluid came from. So they tapped her chest and removed the fluid so she could breathe again, and took a sample for testing. They also did a biopsy of the mass at the same time.

The good news is that there weren't any cancer cells in the extracted fluid.

The MRI of her brain showed no suspicious spots, so it hadn't spread to there yet. More good news.

A not-so-good discovery came with the PET scan. (Don't ask me what the initials stand for, I have no idea and will have to look it up later.) The radioactively tagged sugar they injected her with revealed additional masses (smaller ones to be sure, but still unwelcome) in the adrenal gland, the lymph nodes in the center of her chest, and a small 1-2 cm mass on her bowel.

The doc has the first round of chemo scheduled for next Wednesday . . . except Mom's not sure she wants to even try it. She says that as bad as she feels now, if the chemo makes her feel any worse (and it very likely will), she doesn't want to be subjected to it. I think she ought to at least try one round of chemo, and then make a decision yea or nay. But it's her life and her decision, and what is right for one person won't be right for another.

Honestly, I don't know that I'd take the chemotherapy either, were I in her position. Walking across the room winds her badly, she has to stop for air every few words when she's talking, and even sitting on the toilet leaves her light-headed. If there's a chance the chemo side effects would make her feel even worse (and that's likely), well, that option isn't necessarily much of an option, especially since the odds apparently are that she'll only have 12-14 months, even with treatment.

Her sister's set it up for the doctor to call on Monday to talk to us about statistics, so if the odds are good, we might be able to get her to at least try one round of chemo. We'll see. I'm not sure she'll make it to Christmas if she declines treatment....

PSA

From Military.com:

'Help Our Troops Call Home'

The Army and Air Force Exchange Service's (AAFES) "Help Our Troops Call Home" Program recently surpassed the $8 million mark in contributions. Military Exchange Global Prepaid Phone cards purchased through the program can be sent to individual servicemembers or "any servicemember." By logging on to the Army and Air Force Exchange Service (AAFES) at aafes.org or calling 800-527-2345, friends, family members and civic groups can take part in the "Help Our Troops Call Home" effort by sending any one of three Military Exchange Global Prepaid Phone cards, including a $27.50 card capable of providing more than two hours of call time from any of 69 phone centers in Iraq, Afghanistan and Kuwait to the U.S.

For those with a loved one on sea duty, ship-to-shore calling cards are also available.

Cue Willy Nelson

"On the road again, just can't wait to be on the road again...."

Athos and I have been traveling of late. He's teaching a class at an industry conference, one which is being held rather conveniently in my hometown. His old stomping grounds are not far away, at the other end of the turnpike, so rather than him flying in for three days of the conference, we loaded ourselves into the car and are driving there.

Observation: Why is it that the more toll-road miles a state has, the worse its rest stop facilities are?

So far, we've encountered:

- A motorcycle "trike" with a wheelchair strapped upright to the back. (And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the WIN of the day!)

- A hearse with a bicycle on the roof. (WTF?)

- The nearly-obligatory wreck. We didn't see it happen (thank gods!), but we got to see the before-cleanup aftermath. Two or 3 highway patrol cars, one of the big mucking rigs they use to drag semis around, a fire truck and an ambulance. This one was going to take awhile to un-SNAFU. One semi had run into the back of another semi's trailer, and both trailer and cab were pretty well fucked up. We hope the fact that the ambulance was just sitting there, and the paramedics didn't seem to be in any major hurry, was a good sign. At any rate, somebody was going to be shoveling a LOT of feed corn off the highway!

- An "Italian" restaurant that uses canola oil instead of olive oil! I was told they didn't have a bottle of EVOO in the place! Folks, I was appalled. No olive oil? Heresy!! Needless to say, the food was okay, not not spectacular. Not a lot of there there, is probably the best way to describe it. Olive oil just adds a layer of richness that canola doesn't.

- And let us not forget the "good ol' Southern boy" in the Walmart shirt who was digging for gold in his nasal cavity right there in the hotel hallway, in front of everyone. I didn't stick around to see if he found anything -- or what he might do with his nugget prize. Redneck much?

More to follow....

Zombie Chickens - cool!

"The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the Zombie Chicken-- excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all."

Dori, gods bless her, recently honored me with this and I'm pretty sure that means I now owe her a drink when we finally meet up face-to-face. LOL (It's so going to happen, just the when and the where that are TBD.) So now I get to pass the award along -- just as soon as I can figure out which of the bloggers I read regularly I should name.

Yes, Virginia, asking a simple question CAN get you arrested, even in America

This is a video that everyone should see, especially if you still think the insurance companies have the consumer's best interests at heart....

You can read the details here:

FOR ASKING WHY YOUR INSURANCE RATES INCREASE, YOU CAN BE ARRESTED

Now, in the interest of fair play, I have no way of knowing exactly what transpired between their arrival at the Anthem offices, the lock-out and subsequent appearance of the local constabulary. But having dealt with insurance company run-arounds, evasions and equine excrement before, I'd hazard a guess that it didn't take much at all for the visitors to become personae non gratae. Blue Cross/Blue Shield sure as hell didn't like me asking questions and wanting answers....

FedEx FAIL!

Early last month, Technogeek pre-ordered a copy of Apple's "Snow Leopard" OS from Amazon.com. We knew it wasn't being released for shipment until the end of the month. We're cool with that. We've always had good luck with ordering from them . . . but not so much from some of their shippers. I love it when they send our stuff via UPS, because we know we'll get it when promised. Sometimes our orders have even shipped/arrived earlier than expected, which is a nice little bonus!

The only real problem we'd had until now was one time when Amazon shipped an order through the post office, and USPS managed to misplace (or misdeliver?) it and my movie went MIA. I contacted Amazon and they expedited shipment on a replacement, no problem. (And WTF is up with USPS not admitting they even *have* a package until after it's delivered? Tracking numbers are no good if you can't actually, you know, TRACK YOUR EFFING PACKAGE!)

However . . . Techgeek's software still has not arrived. Amazon sent it via FedEx on August 31st. FedEx's tracking record shows it arrived at their Sacramento location on Sept. 8th. Why the discrepancy? Who knows. Even if one makes allowances for the Labor Day weekend, that still leaves 5 working days where the package was in limbo.

So FedEx admits to custody as of the 8th. It's now the 15th, and the package still isn't here. FedEx's own records show it's not due to arrive for two more days!

Here's where it gets . . . interesting. The package departed Sacramento, CA on Wednesday the 9th and arrived at one of their distribution locations on Sept. 11th. Um, hello? It would have been faster to drive halfway across the country and pick it up than to send it via FedEx!

So. The available online tracking information shows his software was physically present (or at least, logged as such) on the far side of our state, less than 5 hours' drive from here, on Friday the 11th, at 11:54AM. It left there roughly 4 and a half hours later. So apparently it sat in a truck all weekend. C'mon people! Are they telling me that none of their people work weekends? Gee, and here I thought they meant their "When it absolutely, positively, has to be there overnight" slogan was supposed to have any basis in reality.... (And yes, I know we weren't promised overnight delivery, but still!)

On the 14th (!!) we find an entry: "Shipment information sent to USPS". Um, WHY? Does FedEx still have custody at this point, or has the post office taken over? Oh, there we go: "Arrived at FedEx location" and "Departed FedEx location" on the 14th as well.

It gets better: at one point the package was all of than 20 miles away from us. Yep, it went from 4 1/2 hours east of us, to 1 1/2 hours west of here. IN ANOTHER STATE.

Go figure.

And they don't expect to have it here for 2 more days!

Yes, Technogeek has registered a complaint about their shipper with Amazon. Hopefully they will be equally displeased that his order will have taken TWO AND A HALF WEEKS to arrive. That's outrageous, even with "super shipper saving" or whatever they call it. I've gone that route for years, and never has an order taken that long to arrive! In fact, Amazon usually has packages at our door in less than a week even with the "slower" delivery service.

Wednesday update: Apparently FedEx has handed the package off to USPS; the tracking info shows it logged into the local post office facility as of yesterday afternoon. Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be here today....

It's official

I probably should have titled this oh my gawd, what have I done? but I just can't force a feeling I don't have. I'm not having second thoughts or regrets -- unless, of course, I should regret having a conscience and trying to do "the right thing" by giving notice instead of just saying take this job and shove it, and walking out. Life would be one helluva lot easier at times without a conscience, you know?

I turned in my resignation today. Maybe not the best idea in today's economic climate, but it needed to be done. I'm tired of putting up with the bullshit and the slights. And it's tough working for someone for whom I've lost respect.

At lunch, Athos asked me what I would say if the owner offered me another, better, position. Not that I'm likely to be offered either a promotion or a raise; I'm sure the office manager wouldn't allow it. Yes, I've been working in a company where the owner has less say about what goes on than does one of his underlings! Isn't that just peachy?

No, if I have any regrets, it'll be because I will no longer be working side by side with a couple of wonderful, hard-working, largely unappreciated people who I have the honor to claim as friends. J.L. and I.W., I will miss you.

And as for C.Y. and P.H., you can kiss my gassy ass!

Um...oops?

Western Pa. historic war buff charged for firing

cannonball through wall of neighbor's home

Do home owners' insurance policies cover that sort of thing?

Not-so-helpful advertising

Why is it that certain stores send out sale fliers without actual sale dates on them? I'm sitting here perusing one that came . . . oh, sometime within the last two months, and I have no idea if the sale's still on or not. Every single ad-item coupon in the flier reads: "Effective dates on back page".

What's on the back page? "Sale starts today and lasts 10 big days".

Well, gee. That's certainly helpful.....

{Insert evil laugh here}

Well, I found out Squidboy lost the link to my blog. I told him that if I'd known, I could've been posting all sorts of things about him that he couldn't refute! His response? "You have until I get home and get the link again, then I may have to thump you." ROTFL

When did I get old?

OK, so I'm nowhere near the "one foot in the grave" stage, but more and more I find myself looking at the younger generation and wanting to ask two questions we all hated when we were growing up: "What were you thinking?" and "Where the hell are your parents?"

What brought this to mind this morning? Well, here I am, sitting in Local Friendly Coffeeshop, enjoying a mug of the good stuff, and what do I see? A friend's daughter, sporting a hair style that would be far more appropriate on a 20-something (or maybe a 40-something trying to pass for under-30) and an outfit that screams "jail bait" loud and clear. She's no older than 12, maybe 13. Her mother dresses conservatively, so it's not like mom's a bad role model, walking around looking like a hooker!

WTF is with all these Lolitas? And with the parents who not only allow, but seem to actively encourage, their young daughters to dress like a sex crime looking for a place to happen? I've seen babies and toddler sporting apparel emblazoned with the word sexy -- and I know damned well that the kids didn't buy that clothing for themselves. Now, anyone who knows me knows I'm no prude, but I'm sorry, sexy is just not a word that should ever be associated with someone that young!

Let's do this right!

I couldn't say it any better than Bernice did, so I won't even try. Please just go read this and then do what your heart tells you to do....

For Dori

Back when I first started this blog, I seem to recall promising (or maybe threatening) to talk about cooking and post some recipes. Well, it's taken me a year to get around to it, but I'm finally doing it. I would have (should have!) done this earlier, but I just haven't been able to get back into the swing of things and cook like I used to. Long-term depression robbed me of several things, among them my passion for cooking. I'd probably starve if Athos weren't around to cook and then make me eat.

Anyway, we found this in the Aug./Sept. 2009 issue of Fine Cooking and decided to give it a try. It passed muster with Future D-I-L, who is gamely trying to get used to the "weird food" (Squidboy's term for anything NOT burgers or pizza) we've been inflicting upon her. The good news in all this? We haven't scared her off yet!

Hopefully no one will get their knickers in a knot over my sharing this....

Quick Tandoori Chicken Thighs
by Domenica Marchetti

The yogurt in this spicy marinade helps tenderize the chicken and brings lots of tangy flavor to the dish.
Serves four to six.

1 cup plain low-fat yogurt
2 Tbs. fresh lemon juice
1 Tbs. minced fresh ginger
2 tsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. ground turmeric
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. garam masala
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
8 skin-on, bone-in chicken thighs
Vegetable oil for the grill

In a large bowl, whisk the yogurt, lemon juice, ginger, garlic, turmeric, coriander, cumin, garam masala, 1/2 tsp. salt, and several grinds of black pepper. Add the chicken thighs to the marinade and turn to coat them thoroughly. Cover and refrigerate while you heat the grill.

Prepare a medium gas or charcoal grill fire. If you are using a charcoal grill, spread the hot coals across two-thirds of the bottom grate and leave the remaining portion clear. If you are using gas, turn one of the burners to low to create a cooler zone. Scrub the grill grate with a wire brush and then use a paper towel to wipe it with oil.

Remove the chicken thighs from the marinade and wipe off the excess (don’t worry if some remains). Put the chicken, skin side down, directly over the hot part of the grill and grill, covered, until the skin is browned, 3 to 4 minutes (don’t leave the grill at this point because flare-ups may occur; if they do, move the chicken away from the flame).

Flip the chicken and grill until well browned on the second side, 3 to 4 minutes. Move the thighs to the cooler part of the grill and continue to grill, covered, until their internal temperature registers 165°F on an instant-read thermometer, 10 to 15 minutes more.

From Fine Cooking No. 100, pp. 89

If I only had a brain...

I might just be dangerous. And no, I haven't turned into The Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz, although some days I feel like someone's sending flying monkeys my way. Oh, wait, that was just my therapist. (And yes, he does keep little rubber flying monkeys in his desk; they were a gift from his daughter.)

Today's screw-up du jour involves a cake that I almost forgot to bake. A birthday cake for a friend-and-coworker who turns 26 tomorrow. Yep, he's still a young pup, but he's a good guy and well worth a homemade b-day cake. I adapted the Special Mocha Cupcakes recipe from the Taste of Home website into a pan version. Much easier to frost that way! The doubled recipe was just the right volume for a standard cake pan, although I had to increase the baking time. I can't tell you by how much, since I forgot to turn the damned timer on and had to keep a close eye on the cake so it didn't burn....

My muse has deserted me

I haven't been doing much of anything with the blog for the last month or so, obviously. I owe an apology (and a big thank you) to those of you who have stuck with me during the hiatus. It's not that there's been nothing happening worth writing about, but rather that I just haven't been able to put words to (electronic) paper for awhile. My p-doc's been trying out a new med on me to see if we can find one that works without side effects that make me say "nope, not gonna take it anymore; try something else". So far our track record on meds and dosages hasn't been spectacular. The last one worked -- but left me in need of a second drug to counteract one of the side effects of the first. The choice was between wanting to climb out of my own skin, or functioning in a serious fog. Uh-uh. On to the next drug....

Squidboy's submarine made port at last and the crew's working on getting her ready for the next deployment. Apparently everyone's been working their asses off; every time we've talked to him, he's sounded like he's pretty much wiped out. (But not wiped out enough to keep him from occasionally going out with his buddies when they're off duty. LOL) He's putting in extra work, too, since he's a nub ("new useless body") until he gets qualified on the boat and earns his dolphins. He wants those in a bad way, and I can't blame him! I'm looking forward to seeing the tattoo he gets once he earns his "fish". His grandparents aren't exactly thrilled about him sporting body art, but he's of age and in Service, so tough shit to them. He's proud of the Navy symbols he's earned (and earning) the right to wear -- and he should be! And it should go without saying that we're proud of him.

Technogeek and his lady are still going strong. She's coming over for dinner tonight; we're inflicting Indian cuisine on her. Tandoori chicken and a tomato-cucumber raita and a couple of sides to be determined later in the day when I'm more awake. (And yes, I'll try to remember to post the recipes if they turn out okay.) Meanwhile, I have to get the chicken marinating in the yogurt and spices before I head off to work. Sigh. I'd really rather stay home today, but I don't think I could get away with calling sick after I've already been seen out and about in public this morning. Although at this point I'm not so sure I really care what the boss thinks.

Squidboy's home!

And it's really nice to have him back.  Of course, his brother worked all day yesterday, and by the time he'd gotten home, The Squid was gone -- he'd gone to surprise his girlfriend when she got off work.  Today he's home, but Techgeek left this morning and will be gone the rest of the week with his girlfriend Jezzi (also known as She Who I Consider To Be "Future Daughter") and her family.

Just like old times: Can't seem to get the two of them to be home at the same time so we can do anything as a family.  *sigh*  Oh, well, that's just the way it is.  They're grown and have their own lives and interests.  I probably should be grateful they save a little time for their Dad and me on occasion, huh?

The good news is, apparently he's not going to go to sea for the long deployment as quite soon as we thought he would, so maybe we'll be able to go visit him over a weekend before his boat leaves on The Cruise.  Yeah, yeah, I know, they have modern communications and all that, but the fact still remains that depending on where they are, and what they're doing, email from both directions may be cued up and waiting for delivery for weeks at a time.  Beats having NO communication when they're between ports, but it's still going to be rough on us back at home.  He was out of touch during boot camp, but we knew where he was and that he was (probably) (mostly) safe.  At sea?  I don't think I'll be sleeping particularly well.

Revenge: Best served cold

It's never a good idea to screw over people who have friends, especially when you're in the "customer service" industry and the person you've screwed over has not only friends, but loyal readers.  Lots of them.  However, it seems someone hasn't quite grasped that concept yet.  But I'm betting they'll get the point with a little help from us.  Go read A.D.'s post Cycles & More: The Update, as well as the comments, and then pop on over to Google and help with the project.  Let's see if we can't teach the folks at the cycle shop a few manners!

What was I thinking?

I finally broke down and set up a Facebook account.  I need to get hooked on another addictive time waster like I need an auxiliary anus, but it was the ONLY way I was ever going to get to see Squidboy's pics - or chat online with him.  But now I need to figure out how to disconnect the associated email account from my Crackberry's email program, because every time I turn around, I have half a bazillion messages from Facebook's server that so-and-so has sent me an invitation to something or other.  Invites are great, but the games I've tried to join won't let me play because I use a Mac, not a PC.  Dissed again....

172 bucks later....

I have one VERY groggy elderly cat set up in a bathroom with his own private litterbox, food and water bowls, canned food instead of the usual dry kibble, a heater for cold nights, and two bath-towel-padded bedding spots (one enclosed, one not).  I figure he can enjoy the last of the morphine in there without being able to hurt himself . . . unless he falls off the toilet or cabinet, which I hope he doesn't even get up onto right now.  I'll have to get the guest room cleaned up so we can put him in there for the duration -- he'll be getting canned food, and the others get dry.  But for now, he gets to stay in the bathroom.  If it's inconvenient for the humans, well, we can just darned well knock before entering for a few days!

I saw his x-ray from last week and it's a good thing we went ahead and did the dental surgery.  He'd lost a significant portion of the bone in one side of his face already, and the bone on the "good" side was showing signs of heading the same way.  He's still wheezing, but that could well be from post-op swelling and drainage.

And we have liquid antibiotics for him, so I don't have to figure out how to open his mouth without pressing on the surgical site.  Oh, wait, yes I do: He still needs his heart meds.  Must call the doc - maybe they come in injectible forms...?

Oh, and about the $172?  The poor old fellow's worth it.  If this gives him a better quality of life -- and maybe even a longer life! -- I shan't regret the expense.

Wednesday update

I guess I have been out of it, it's been several weeks since I last posted.  Squidboy arrives home Friday evening (!!!!) and I have lots and lots of housecleaning to do.  Cat fur and his "summer whites" will NOT mix well, so I'm going to try to get all the stray fur vacuumed up.  Well, honestly, I'll probably never be able to get *all* of it removed, but if I can get it down to where there's only enough to knit a kitten or two, instead of having enough to knit a whole herd of cats it should be good enough.

And speaking of a whole herd of cats....  Ours are less than pleased right now.  Techgeek and I confined them to the laundry room, where they will be incarcerated for the duration.  You don't need to feel too bad for them, it's not like they'll all be stuffed into a cage for almost two weeks -- the laundry room is almost as big as the living room, and we have a couple of big old sofa cushions on the floor, each of which will hold 5 or 6 cats if they don't get pissy and engage in territorial wars.  And there are multiple surfaces that the non-handicapped ones can jump up onto for snoozing or lazing about.  They even have a window!  OK, so it's a small window, but it'll still hold a cat or two.  If it ever stops raining, I'll open it so they can enjoy the early summer smells that waft in on the breeze.  Unless the dogs have gotten out of the yard and rolled in cow manure again, at which point they'd probably thank me for *closing* the window!

One of our oldest cats is at the veterinarian's office; I need to go pick him up soon.  About a month ago, we'd started him on antibiotics for bad teeth, in preparation for dental surgery, then he'd started wheezing badly.  One thing led to another, and we discovered he was in congestive heart failure.  (Let's face it, at 14, it's either heart, kidneys or cancer.)  So we cancelled the dental, started him on heart meds, and his heart and lungs got better, but he was still wheezing badly.  So back to the vet we went -- and an x-ray showed he has a sinus full of infection that's destroying the bone!  So my vet (Gods bless her, I think she's wonderful) was going to pull the fang that feeds up into the sinus (and probably his bad molar as well) before lunchtime and clean out the infection.  He should start feeling better and eating more now!

Oh, yeah....

Squidboy graduates from submarine school next month and gets to come home on 10 days' leave!  (Less his travel time, of course.)  Then he's off to Norfolk to report to his new commander and get ready to head out to sea.  I know this is what he wants to do, and he'll be a helluva lot safer on the sub than he would be in the Middle East, but I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the notion of my son, who likes to sleep with the windows open, spending 6-8 months at a time under water.  Oh, I know they won't be submerged 24/7 for the whole time, but still!!!

Thank gods he'll have email access, if we can't talk to him every week we'll at least be able to send messages and pics, and maybe the occasional video message.

BTW, I'm sure you'll pardon me if I don't say exactly when his boat will be leaving or making port, or where they are at any given time.  Some of the time he probably won't be able to tell us details anyway -- understandable, especially during war time!  So we'll stick with generalities, and maybe the occasional misdirection, I think that'll be better all the way around.

And which black hole did I fall into?

     I'm not quite sure, frankly, but I must have fallen into one, no more often than I've posted lately.

     So what's been happening?  Well, I think I may have mentioned a couple of months back that I'd tripped and fallen and hurt the "good" shoulder...and in babying it, I re-aggravated the "bad" shoulder that I'd hurt 25+ years earlier.  Not happy-making, let me tell you!  My doc sent me in for about a month's worth of physical therapy to help with the old injury while the newly injured shoulder had a chance to heal.

     The good news is that the old injury is better; the bad news is that it's going to take long-term attention to stay better.

     The new injury?  Well, it hasn't improved a whole lot in the last month.  I actually went back to work 3 weeks into the doctor-recommended 4-6 week medical leave because the shoulder seemed to have hit a plateau on improvement and (gods help me!) I found myself actually missing work.  (More specifically, I missed working with certain people at my place of employment.)  Besides, my paycheck may not be large, but we need what I make.  I dare say I'm not the only one in that particular boat....

     Anyway, not only does work aggravate both shoulders, but so do most household chores: sweeping, mopping, washing dishes, etc.  Not only do they do unhappy things to my shoulders, but they make my back ache rather badly too.  So back to the physical therapist with orders for 2 weeks of PT.  That's done, but the back still hurts like hell so now we get to find out how many hoops to jump through to get the insurance pay for a TENS unit.

     And just to add insult to injury, working at the computer makes my back and shoulders hurt worse than ever.  FML

     I actually do have some good news to share for a change:  Athos' brother and his wife got to bring their new baby girl home today, and the adoption should be finalized some time in July.  She's 6 weeks old and they are absolutely thrilled!  From what I understand, Big Sister's been looking forward to this day, too.  Congrats M&T!!

     Oh, and we've been re-doing the flower beds across the front of the house that haven't been touched since we moved in here a number of years ago.  We were going to just add to the one we'd reworked a year or two ago, and, well, things kind of got out of hand.  We bought way too many flowers than we really needed, and--  Oh, that's a pretty shrub...and look at this one!  And I haven't seen one of these before!  So yeah, we ended up bringing enough home from the nursery that it wasn't all going to go where we'd intended it all to go.  I bought another white lilac and three more types of iris because I happen love them, three different varieties of raspberries for the garden (including a golden one!), enough catmint to keep our feline population happy for the next couple of years (some of which is going to be turned loose at the edge of the woods, along with the oregano), and a shitload of daisy-type flowers for Athos.  There are some really cool daisies out there, including one variety (African?) that has cone-shaped, color-tipped petals instead of regular flattened ones.  One flower I bought is almost shockingly bright -- and the hummingbirds love it!  I may go back for more if Athos doesn't confiscate my car keys and the checkbook.  LOL

     Anyway, Athos spent most of Monday (he got the day off; I didn't) wrestling with our 40-plus-year-old dinosaur of a rototiller...after spending most of Sunday trying to get the damn thing to run.  It hadn't been used in 6 or 7 years, and the gas line had dry rot, the carburetor was gummed up, the throttle was stuck closed, and the choke was stuck open.  Yeah, it needed some work.

     Now we just have to transplant two bushes (and hope like hell the one he moved yesterday survives) and finish laying weed cloth before we plant all the plants and haul multiple loads of mulch home to cover the weed barrier.

     Then we get to rebuild the raised beds in the garden that self-destructed over the winter, and mix in the cow/horse manure our friends kindly brought over for us.  With their tractor and manure spreader.  It doesn't stink after 2 years of composting, but there's (pun intended) a shitload of it......

Asshole drivers

You know, I'm honestly not sure whether it's precognition or just the universe fucking with me (or maybe a little of both), but sometimes I'll make a comment that seems to come from nowhere, and shortly thereafter the statement becomes reality.  I don't even have to be consciously aware of what I'm saying - and that's a real pisser because it doesn't always register that this signals approaching trouble.  It's happened with power outages, phone calls, deaths and various other events . . . and it happened again a couple of weeks ago.

It was a beautiful day, and Oldest Son asked if he could borrow my scooter (the one that I hope will grow up to be a real motorcycle someday) to ride into town.  He's done it many a time and knows what he's doing - always wears helmet, gloves, sturdy jacket, etc. - so I usually don't worry.  Well, okay, I do worry, but that's my prerogative as his mother.  I just don't obsess over it.  Usually.  But for some reason that day I suggested he might ought to put on his jeans rather than wear his good pants, as they'd protect him more in case he took a tumble.

I should have known something would happen.  Or maybe I did, and just didn't consciously recognize it.

Well, about an hour later he came in, changed into his work clothes, stuck his head into the throw-it-in-there-and-let-mom-deal-with-it-room where I was working on the computer, made a pithy comment about reckless drivers, and told me a car went to pass him and then pulled back in almost on top of him, forcing him onto the shoulder.  As is usual for him, he doled out the details in bits and pieces, which, taken individually, didn't seem like much.  But eventually he got to the part where he went OFF the scooter and into the ditch.

WTF?!?  Okay, now he had my full attention.

The good news is, the car didn't actually hit him, he went off the road where the ditch was much shallower than it is where I *thought* he'd dumped it, and he didn't end up going head-first over the front fork.  No big rocks or barbed wire were involved either, which were a real possibility along other stretches of the road into town.  He did have a couple of small cuts (which he did not tell me about, I had to find that out from the investigating officer!), but no major injuries.  

Because he was injured, it means the asshole responsible for shoving him off the road could be charged with a felony rather than just a misdemeanor; leaving the scene of an injury-accident that you've caused kicks the charges up to another level in most jurisdictions.  The problem is going to be in finding the responsible party.  Oldest Son was - understandably! - too busy trying to control the scooter and protect himself during the fall to get a tag number, or even a good description of the car.  I think in a situation like that most of us would probably have their attention on where and how hard they're going to land.  Not that there's always time to do more than recognize that you are going down before you land....

I'm just grateful that the car didn't actually hit him, and that he wasn't hurt worse than he was.  Poor kid apologized for scratching up my scooter - like he had any choice in the matter!  The scooter can be fixed, assuming we ever get around to it.  The damage is purely cosmetic, and I've scratched it up myself on more than one occasion over the last couple of years.  Sand and gravel are not your friends when you're on two wheels.

Like I told the investigating officer, I'd really like to find whoever ran him off the road and "discuss" it with them with a fist, or maybe a baseball bat.  He pointed out that it'd mean Mom would get hauled off to jail.  Yeah, well, it'd be worth it, because the bastard could have killed my son!  I think the officer understood - he just grinned at me.  I'm betting he has kids of his own, you know?

So wrong on so many levels

If I tell you the following "news report" comes from The Onion, would you be terribly surprised?

Children Exposed to Pornography May Expect Sex to be Enjoyable

This blog is rated NC-17

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

• kill (7x)
• death (6x)
• hell (4x)
• shit (3x)
• crap (2x)
• whore (1x)

WTF?  No "R" rating?!?  I think I've been insulted.

That evaluation makes my blog appear to be "cleaner" than some recent Disney flicks, so I'm pretty sure they missed some words.  More than just "some", in fact.  Anyone who knows me - or has visited the blog more than a few times - can testify that I can swear like a sailor.  Perhaps it's not an attractive trait in a middle-aged Midwestern mom, but it's me.  Take me or leave me, love me or hate me, but don't expect me to change myself to try to please everyone else.  Tried that for years and it damn near killed me - or, rather, damn near made me kill myself.  So accept me for who I am, or make yourself happy and go play in somebody else's sandbox.

Let's see, a quick word search from within blogger shows:

     whore:  Nope, apparently haven't used that one.  Yet.  (Strike 1.)

     shit:  Turns up in 4 separate posts.  (Strike 2.)

     crap:  At least 6x, 'cuz that's how many posts include it.  (Strike 3.)

     hell:  I quit counting at 16 separate posts.  (Strike 4.)

    

"Kill" and "death"?  Um, apparently whoever programmed the so-called search engine for the thing doesn't follow the news.  That's where you'll find far more of that verbage.

And they seem to have ignored the rest of George Carlin's original seven Dirty Words.

But then, it's sponsored by a dating site, so what do you expect?  Certainly not honesty or accuracy.....

Rant

I am angry.  Pissed-off-and-seeing-red kind of angry.  Angry enough that perhaps I shouldn't blog until I'm calmer, more reasonable.

But dammit, I don't want to be reasonable and I won't be.  Reasonable is for deciding what color to paint your living room, which vehicle to purchase, what to serve for Sunday dinner, or which proposed bills should be made into law - and which ones should be recycled as toilet paper.  No, there are times that "being reasonable" is not reasonable, times when a person has to stand up and announce that THIS IS FUCKING MADNESS AND IT HAS TO STOP!

So what set me off tonight?

Simple.  I talked to a young man with whom my husband works, and found out something I hadn't known.  His long-time best friend, also in his mid-20's, spent two years in Iraq.  He came home, and then volunteered to return because he felt his team needed him there.  

He won't be coming back this time.

Not a new - or uncommon - story, I know.  Since the time before recorded history, there have been far too many of our sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, who have gone into battle, to return either changed - or not at all.

I dare not pretend to know the pain a fallen warrior's loved ones suffer when they learn there will be no joyful homecoming, nor can I truly comprehend the ravages of emotion that follow in the days, weeks and months ahead.  That is nothing I've ever experienced first-hand, and I pray to whatever God or gods there may be that I am never called upon to do so.

Yes, my youngest is in the Navy, and will report to his first duty station over the summer, once his submarine training is complete.  There no guarantee of safety for him, even were his boat the most modern and well-designed of submarines.  He's spoken of possibly volunteering for ground duty in the Middle East (an option even for a submariner), and quite frankly, this thought terrifies me.  I can't help but suspect that safe is a relative term in that region, meaning not that one has a slim possibility of injury while assigned there, but that the odds are maybe slightly better than 50/50 that one may survive until the next meal.  Not a reassuring thought for a parent.

Where did we go right in raising this child?  Did we not try hard enough to impress upon him the dangers inherent in military service?  Did his combat-veteran grandfather (Korean War) not tell him enough horror stories regarding the things he saw and experienced?  Was it because he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his grandfathers, and their fathers and their fathers?  Maybe he was influenced by our proudly displaying his several-times-great grandfather's release from a Union prison during the Civil War.  Or perhaps he was influenced by the anger in his father's and my voices over the years when we've railed against the failures of both society and government (and not just of those here in the U.S.) in serving and caring for the veterans who were willing to sacrifice everything for their countries.

Or maybe, like so many others, he simply felt called to serve, as some are called to the religious life?

I often joke that Squidboy volunteered so he could have a guaranteed paycheck for 5 years, and get paid to get dirty and greasy and play with things that go boom.  While that may be a small part of the reason he joined the Navy, I know that's not the whole story.  For whatever reason(s) he has chosen this life of sacrifice, I honor him, as I respect and honor all those who have chosen to Serve on behalf of the rest of us.  And should he receive orders for duty in unfriendly territory, my constant prayer will be, Take me, not him.  Paralyze me, kill me, turn me into a fucking vegetable, just keep my son safe!

But that's not really what I wanted to write about.

No, what has had me sitting here at the keyboard for 4-plus hours is the anger I feel regarding the death of the young man I mentioned above, and about the injustice of it all.  He knew what he was doing, knew that he was risking his life, and yet he chose to do so because he felt it was necessary, that it was the right thing to do.  I'm angry that he - like so many others - died for a cause when those who made the decision to go to war stayed safely at home, sacrificing nothing, and risking nothing but the potential judgement of history upon them. 

There again, that's nothing new; armed conflicts have been instigated for centuries by those who were never required to actually take up arms and take their place on the front lines.  And the injustice of that pisses me off.  Those who are sending others to die should not be allowed to sit in the safety and comfort of their modern day throne rooms, behind their buffer zone of flunkies and personal guards.  No, they should be issued the same armament, the same gear, the same food, and the same armor that the front-line troops receive, and spend the same amount of time in the danger zone that those who will fight and die for them must spend, eating and sleeping with those troops.  And their nearest-and-dearest should be required to do the same - with, of course, the exact same standards and exemptions (for age, disability, etc.) applied to them as would be applied to any volunteer.

And I don't mean this should apply only to any one side, but should be a universal requirement.  If a cause is sufficiently important to fight and die for, then those who make that decision for others should feel honor-bound to take up arms themselves.  But they don't.  Especially politicians.  Gutless bastards, most of them, from where I sit.  Don't get me wrong, I have no gripe with those who serve honorably in wartime, and afterwards become heads of state.  But those who never fought, never dirtied their own hands in an honorable cause?  Or worse, never even earned the right to wear a military uniform?  Then they haven't earned the right to ask others to fight and die for them!

I mourn that young man's death, as I mourn the deaths of all of our fallen heroes.  I pray that each one who falls will be the last one to fall, that there will be no more combat deaths - ever.  I pray that their loved ones will somehow find peace.  I pray that humankind will finally find a less brutal way to settle disputes.  I pray that there are enough like-minded people around the world to bring an end to all the bloodshed, once and for all time.

And I weep for his friend, who stood there tonight, trying to force a smile through barely restrained tears, saying, It's all right; it's all right.

No.  Maybe he's come to terms with his friend's death, and I certainly won't risk causing him further emotional pain, but I just cannot bring myself to agree.  It's not all right, and never can be.....

Ya gotta love this song

From the 2008 CMT awards show:

Brad Paisley   More CMT Music   More CMT Music Videos

Or, if you prefer youtube video:

Exciting news from the National Science Foundation

"Instant On" Computing

The ferroelectric materials found in today's "smart cards" used in subway, ATM and fuel cards soon may eliminate the time-consuming booting and rebooting of computer operating systems by providing an "instant-on" capability as well as preventing losses from power outages.  

Go read the article.  It's pretty cool.  Then come back here if you will, I want to try something....

{interlude}

Okay, good, you're back.  Now, I'd like for all you computer users to please stand up.  You can sit back down if any of these apply to you:

     - How many of you have been annoyed by the length of time it takes to boot your machine after a complete shut-down?

     - How many of you have machines that take for-fucking-ever to get the OS to load; as in, you can go pour a cup of coffee and be back in time to see your home screen come to life?  

     - How many of you have lost data to an abrupt, unexpected, and/or inexplicable power failure?  Extra points to those who have lost power due to any or all of: a little kid unplugging the computer or hitting the power switch as you scream NOOOOO!!!!! and lunge at them, thus spilling your coffee/tea/soda everywhere; tripping over your own power cord while attempting to get a retching cat off of wherever it's perched, before said cat can deposit a disgusting mass of semi-used cat food and soggy hair somewhere other than on the floor; your apartment complex's ONLY transformer blowing up for the umpteeth time because electrical demand out paces electrical supply when air conditioner season hits; a drunk driver knocking over a power pole - and blowing every transformer in the vicinity when the resultant energy surge from the massive short hits them; or squirrels in the substation - DRT* squirrel and substation.**

     - How many of you have ground your teeth in frustration when your computer freezes, and you've lost EVERYTHING you were working on during the restart?

     - How many of you have sworn to get a UPS because of any (or all) of the above, but somehow haven't managed to do it yet?

Instant-on and no power-outage data losses?  Sign me up for that ASAFP!

*Dead Right There

**No shit, these are actual occurrences, many of which I've fallen victim to over the years.

Be wary of your kids' playlists

I confess: I recently went through his playlists and swiped a whole bunch of songs off Squidboy's old computer.  I really can't bring myself to feel any remorse for doing so because, well, most of them were downloaded and paid for by *my* account anyway.  

At any rate, I now have some good country music to add to my collection, and that's really nice.  Most of what I've bought over the years has been rock and Celtic folk, with excursions into reggae, Hawai'ian, Native American drums . . . and a few sub-sub-genres I'm almost embarrassed to admit I like.  But Youngest Son managed to corrupt me and hook me on modern country before he left for the Navy.  His father is unamused by this, especially when it comes to occasionally being forced to listen to the stuff when we're in my vehicle.  Athos is more into Celtic folk, jazz, classical and orchestral-soundtrack stuff, and has never exactly been a fan of country music, either modern or more traditional....

I grew up with my dad and his parents listening to twangy C&W and older Grand Ole Opry music, most of which made my ears want to implode.  (And then there's the conservative talk radio Mr. Dittohead apparently has playing all night long.  I have no idea how my mother's kept from divorcing him all these years!)  Still can't stand "twangy" as a general rule, although I did learn to tolerate (if not necessarily appreciate) some of it, thanks to an old boyfriend who was a country kind of guy.  (Dirt track racing and honky tonkin' - those were good times!  But that's old history, and I wouldn't trade Athos in for him.)

So what does this have to do with anything?  Just a little rambling until I circled back around to where I intended to end up.  I had a philosophy instructor back in college who did that a lot.  He'd start at 'A' and take side trips through topics 'C', 'G', 'E', 'M', etc. until he made finally it back to 'B' and his point.  Come to think of it, I had two philosophy professors who did that, and both were theologians.  Which makes me wonder if it's something in the training that makes them that way, or if they went into philosophy/theology because that type of thinking is natural to them.  (Engineers, OTOH, seem to be more linear problem solvers than mind-mappers.)

And yes, I'm probably undiagnosed ADD.  It shows.

So....  I dropped Squidboy's music to my computer.  Some of it I dumped, some of it I'm hanging onto for occasional listening, and some of it (like the country) went straight onto my iPod.  I was listening to it yesterday while doing the dishes and this song started that I'd never heard before.  My initial impression was meh and I almost skipped it.  I'm glad I didn't.  But I really do wish Squidboy had warned me about it before I'd listened to it, which finally explains the post header.

The song is Alyssa Lies, by Jason Michael Carroll.  You can find the lyrics here, and a video is here.  Parents, make sure the kleenex box is handy before you check it out.....

Oh, yeah....

If any of you have left me comments or sent email, I promise I will get to it as soon as I can!  I'm just hoping that I had comment moderation off, and didn't lose any comments in the "waiting for approval" queue!

I'd go check tonight if I had the energy, but my brain's fried....

I'm baaaack....sorta kinda maybe

The good news:  The new computer is up and running, and more-or-less properly (?) configured.  There's still some tweaking to be done, and some changes to the apps and OS that I find annoying but will have to figure out how to deal with - unless I can figure out how to turn off the so-called "improvements".

The bad news:  I have an astounding amount of crap a whole bunch of stuff needing to be moved over from the old laptop I've been using, as well as most of the files that were rescued from my dead laptop.

The good news:  We got the old laptop to work by booting it from an external drive.  This is good, especially since I've been concerned that the folks at the computer place might *think* they got everything backed up for me, but didn't, or that some of the files might've been corrupted in the move.  Not terribly likely, I know, but still I worry.

The bad news:  The old laptop didn't work long enough to begin data transfer, and we couldn't get it fired up a second time.

The good news:  I discovered another trick that *might* just work to get the old laptop up for long enough to take my files straight off of it, in case anything got corrupted during the salvage operation.

We've done The Good, and The Bad....now it's time for The Ugly....

I'm going to have to go through my email and rebuild my contact list if I can't transfer the data into the "improved" mail program.  That's gonna take awhile.  Moving my iTunes data isn't going to be either quick or easy; that could take all day, especially since the "migration assistant" app spent well over 15 minutes - that's what, like 5 years in computer time? - gathering information.  It never even got to the point of asking me *which* files I wanted moved, either, just sat there and gave me the spinning icon of doom and gloom.  So I get to do it all myself.  Oh, yeah, and all my bookmarks have to be transferred over...somehow.

Oh, happy days.  I'm so very thrilled I could just puke.

Dori, sweetie, I could really use that tequila right about now, and my doc can just stuff it if he expects me to refrain!  Especially since he's changing my meds around, and the real SSRI withdrawal symptoms are just beginning.  That DSM-IV 296.33 Dx may turn into a 296.34 before the med changes and the computer headaches are over with....  

And just to keep things interesting, while the mailboxes are (sort of) imported and (sort of) up-to-date, and most of the email that the Mail app marked as junk mail that wasn't junk mail has been unflagged...but the junk mail that didn't get caught has to be found and Circular Filed.   Oh, yeah, and the mailboxes from the DOA machine need to be incorporated into the new ones 'cuz I refuse to just throw everything in them away.

BTW, did I happen to mention the 2-1/2 to 3 weeks' worth of legitimate mail I now need to wade through and read, respond to, file, and/or delete, on six - yes six, gods help me! - different accounts.  (All used for different purposes, so I can't really just give up and combine them for simplicity's sake.)

Right about now I'm wondering just why I was so anxious to get back online....

Friends...gotta love 'em

Earlier this evening, Athos and I were sitting in one of our two favorite coffee shops (the one that also sells a nice selection of good wines and top shelf liquor) and enjoying a couple of their specialty sandwiches, when my cell phone went off. No big deal, right? Happens all the time.

So I reached down to extract the phone from its too-snug case. Unfortunately, during said extraction, I somehow managed to unknowingly (a) turn the volume up and (b) hit the "answer" button while the phone was still holstered. The magnets in the case are supposed to lock the keys and prevent the phone from accidentally dialing Outer Mongolia on a three-way with the ISS. You'd think it'd also lock the *send* key as well. Maybe not an EPIC FAIL in the grand scheme of things, but it was rather embarrassing nonetheless.

Thank gods the place was semi-empty, so there weren't a lot of witnesses. Including a friend who works there, who will likely tease me about it for the foreseeable future. *sigh* The downside was that semi-empty also meant semi-quiet - as in, there wasn't any background noise to mask some of the sound. So everybody within the building was treated to my friend's favorite ringtone. At almost full volume. While I tried desperately - and mostly unsuccessfully - tried to get the goddamn phone OUT of its holder and kill the midi.

Remember the friend I mentioned not too long ago, the one who sent me the ribald verse? Yep, same guy. The one who I now need to "thank" properly for tonight's impromptu musical entertainment. Fair warning - I owe you one, Draken. I don't know how, or when, or where, but your butt is gonna be mine!

In brief, we treated everyone to this unforgettable British comedic theme song. Think "Dance of the Bumble Bee" performed on a kazoo and you get the general idea.

No, I'm not going to tell you what it is. Go listen for yourself. If you don't immediately recognize it, your education is sadly lacking....



BTW, should you find yourself in need of a TV show theme to turn into a ringtone, I suggest you try this site. It's the mother lode.

Technology Hell update

I've discovered something really, really annoying: I can't get into my blog to post from either my cell phone (both the old-new one AND the new-new one wouldn't/won't work!) or the touch-screen iPod that (so I believed) would keep me from having to lug my laptop around quite so much. Oh, sure, both devices allow me to access the blog to read it and check comments (presuming anyone gives a rat's ass about what I write); to read a good number of the blogs in my blogroll; to access and send messages via one of my too-many email addys; and to enter a blog post title. Past that? Nein, nada, rein, sifuri, nulla, zip, zilch and diddly-squat.
What makes it even more irritating is that Blogger/Blogspot has a feature that allows blog owners to email posts to directly post, or to save as a draft. Great idea, I could use that. Except for the all-to-rare success, more often than not such emails disappear into a Black Hole and spend subjective-eternity trapped in the Event Horizon, to some day be spat out into another universe. Possibly they turn into wavicles or subparticles and add to the Dark Matter that helps power The Universe As We Know It. Or maybe they just Become One with the Eternal OM and bring spiritual enlightenment to my computer.
Nah, more likely they just add my addy to *yet another* frakking spam list as they vanish, never to be seen again....

So where are we in this circle jerk?
- Oldest cell phone (Motorola Razr): Kept for emergency back-up use. Damn near bullet-proof; even Frau Klutz here couldn't break it despite bouncing it off the pavement more than I care to admit to. I'd still be carrying it around, except web access is awfully nice (it can be damn handy to have radar at your finger tips when the skies turn dark!) and the screen's a little too small for me to read much on. Needless to say, I'm still trying to decide whether I want to get trifocals . . . or just say frak it and train one of the dogs to keep me from walking into walls.
- Old replacement phone (Samsung Delve): Back to the store. The only thing I miss about it is the size of the screen. In some things, size really does matter...but not enough for me to tolerate its design/programming flaws. Browser sucked too. Buh-bye!
- New replacement (Blackberry Curve): Love it! Easy to navigate, no working my way through multiple screens to find out if I have a message or a missed call. And yes, Technogeek, you were right, I should have gotten the 'berry to start with, like you did. You can just bite me, boy.
- Old laptop: Drive is DOA. Would have cost me $450 to fix it. That's with a smaller HD than the one that died and the Bluetooth device, which we would have had to REorder after having canceled the first order. Is it worth $450 to fix a roughly 5-y.o. machine with a screen that occasionally goes out and a mother board that was giving hints of potential catastrophic failure within the next year? I didn't think so either. The new one is supposed to be here today.
- New laptop: Not here yet. Just called my computer dealer (yeah, man, I need a fix real bad; you got some good stuff?) for an update. "I'll have to call you back" does NOT bode well. I suggested she grab the tech guy who handled the sale by the scruff of his neck and make him find out where it is in the delivery process. (I was only joking of course. Maybe.)

That loud scream of anguish you might've just heard in the distance was me. The nice lady at the computer place (who is probably at this very moment calling the authorities to strongly strongly recommend that they outfit me with an "I love me" jacket with the extra-long sleeves) just called back to say my computer is . . . deep breath, Paws, deep breath, try to stay calm . . . NOT ON THE FUCKING TRUCK. It'll be here tomorrow.

Whimper...sob.

The good news, such as it is to this poor dumb sumbitch trying to work with a glitchy keyboard and a browser that gives me fits? The tech guy is going to personally deliver it here to the house since he lives in Duck Puddle* too, to save me the 60 mile round-trip. He's a good kid, graduated high school with my oldest. We give each other friendly shit, although I suspect my sense of humor is a little stranger than his. But he's young yet; give him time and he'll probably be just as crazy as the rest of us.

And speaking of crazy . . . Squidboy called yesterday. It seems one of his shipmates there in submarine school "got sent up" to surface duty. And why? The psych eval said he's TOO NORMAL. If that don't beat all, as my granny used to say. I guess my son explained it best when he said:

We're going to be living underwater, in a steel tube, with 100-plus other guys, for months at a time, looking for people to kill. You HAVE to be crazy to do this job!

Or words to that effect. I guess in those circumstances a person really would have to be crazy to keep from going insane. I just hope the psych people understand that my son prefers to sleep with the windows open....



* Or whatever I called it last time.

Just kill me now, part 2

Ever have one of those days? The kind where, if you found the Devil himself sitting in your living room, you'd tell him he's wasting his time, because your soul's already been claimed by your electronics, and then offer him a beer?

OK, so maybe my day hasn't been quite that bad, but I still feel like Harry Dresden*. Electronic gadgets are failing me right and left, and The Gods are kicking me around a little:

* While trying to get some of the backlog of email out of my in-box, I somehow managed to screw things up for that application - BUT NOT THE OPERATING SYSTEM - and was trying to fix the problem when my laptop died. (See below.) This happened because after 20-plus years of using one particular email app, I switched to another less than a year ago. I was an autopilot and didn't even consider that the current app might not respond to having files moved like the old app did. Old app let me do that and then rebuilt the DB automatically; OTOH the new app pukes when files get relocated, no rebuilding (automatic OR manual) possible, so I was trying to figure out how to put things back where they came from when I got the BSoD. (See below.)

* I've located one, and only one, model of Bluetooth adapter that's guaranteed to work with my 'puter. It's non-returnable unless it abso-fraggin'-lutely does not work, at which point the seller will be stuck with it after assuring me it would work.

* Less than three hours later, my laptop (yes, the one I just shelled out $50 for a Bluetooth for, so I don't have to constantly search for the damned usually-missing-in-action specialized cable for data transfers with my phone) gave me the Blue Screen of Death after the computer place had closed for the night. We all know that BSoDs are fairly common . . . except I'm using a Mac. They don't have BSoDs. It won't even load the OS in "safe" mode. Conclusion: it's fucked. Which means I'm fucked, and not in a way that I'll enjoy.

* While trying to access this blog via my new cell phone, I discovered that I can enter titles, but not the body of a post. That's about as useful as tits on a boar hog. At least I can read some of the folks in my blogroll on it when I get bored sitting in traffic.

* I also discovered that somehow while trying to catch up on the blogs I routinely read via said cell phone, I must've hit something I didn't mean to, because all of a sudden I got a "you have flagged this blog as offensive" or some such bullshit. I now owe Shadowfax at Movin' Meat an abject apology.

* And just to keep life interesting, Blogger resisted my efforts to access my account, saying I was entering an incorrect password. Now, I may not have a lot of brainpower after deciding dinner was going to consist of Pinot Grigio and not much else after all the unhappy horseshit with the laptop and the cell phone (and BTW, Alltel's browser SUCKS and I don't have the option of using another one), but I do know my password. Upside down and backwards. In my sleep, even. I could probably remember it even in circumstances where I might not remember my own name, address or phone number. So I know damned well that I didn't mis-enter it FIVE OR SIX TIMES IN A ROW on two different devices. (Oh, and if you're wondering how I'm posting now, I commandeered what's may be the oldest computer in the house, depending on what Techgeek's hauled home for parts lately. Why? It fucking works. Newer technology is great, but only if it doesn't shoot you the bird and die. This thing is almost a dinosaur in computer terms, but it's been fairly bullet-proof, if not easily transportable.)

The good news of the day: Techgeek's finally home and I can turn him loose on the laptop and go deal with other things. Like a sinkful of dirty dishes . . . and way too much dirty laundry . . . and (gods help me) the litterboxes. (If you want to talk about seriously nasty, you might just find a picture of them under "evil" or "devilspawn" in the dictionary.)

And I got a love ya but we want to talk to him call a few minutes ago from a bunch of friends partying at Gulf War, wanting to say happy birthday to Athos - who is halfway across the country on a business trip. *sigh*

Update: Techgeek's pretty sure the problem's with my laptop's hard drive. The machine can't see it at all. So now we get to see if (a) we can cancel the Bluetooth adapter I already paid for, and (b) how much it's going to cost to get the laptop fixed, if it's even worth fixing at its age. Techgeek could pull the drive in an Intel machine, but mine's an older PPC with the drive in an odd place and about a billion screws between it and whoever's trying to access it. I'm hoping against hope that there's a way to at least retrieve the info off the drive. There's a lot of stuff there I'd hate to lose that hadn't gotten transferred during a recent back-up attempt. That was one of the things I was going to try to finish this evening....

I know I've been bitchy/whiny lately, and for that I do apologize, but this is my space to bitch, whine, complain and heap sarcasm upon the truly deserving. I'm not as bad in real life. I can put on a good public face and smile and be polite to people I'd really like to tell to go to hell. (Or most of them, at least.) I've just reached my tolerance limit for some things. I need a vacation, not that it's going to happen. I need a new job, too, one where I'll make enough to pay the damned propane bill and still be able put gas in my car, but it's same song, second verse on that score.

Although I suppose I should be grateful I still have a job. Not sure how long that's going to last, though, or if I'll get laid off before I get fed up enough to walk out. They're not paying me nearly enough to put up with some of the crap that's been going on for much longer than I've been there. Athos runs a division with more people than my employer has in the entire company, and he's said flat-out that if people behaved that way in his group, they'd find themselves out of a job in a hurry. Too bad my employer doesn't seem to care that certain long-time employees are doing nothing but hurting his business. Tends to lend some credence to the rumor I've heard that he's looking to sell the company after less than two years.

*Addendum: It finally dawned on me that some folks might not get the reference. Harry Dresden is a wizard, and magic does not combine well with electrons. His mere presence can fry a computer or a telephone. And every light bulb in his apartment. That could be inconvenient, were he unable to light candles without a match....