Touchy Subject.
It's 5am, and I've just flipped open the laptop. However, I've been up twice already since I turned in at 11pm, and each awakening resulted in a scathing text message to my parents who are vacationing in NC. They're south, yet the other half of my extended family remains here, with me.
We truly do follow that extended family Chinese it-takes-a-village mentality, except in the case of my aunt, we're going to need some reinforcements. The Peace Corps would be nice.
So in trying to turn chagrin into stocisim, I will recount the events of this weekend as a string of facts starting from this point on.
Thursday, 5pm. The family arrives. I return from work as they're getting out of the car. They haven't started unloading yet. Greetings and hellos. Dinner. Soccer game. I come home exhausted and fall asleep on the floor in front of the TV in a sleeping bag. I awake to some tormented screaming for "appo juice" sometime around 4am.
Friday. 7am. Get up for work. The parents are already poking about in my bathroom. I curse them out with my eyes, sing Aretha Franklin's "Rescue Me", but I never get to any other lyrics aside from the title on repeat. We leave at the same time. It rained all day, and the kids were cooped up in the house. The aunt does not have a car. I return at 7pm after a fun happy hour. Two margaritas do have a noticeable calming effect. The kids are excited to see me only because of the limited exposure they've had to me. They think I'm my (nice) youngest sister. Until I say something sternly like, "You have five seconds to get out of my way. Five, four, three..." Since it rained all day, the park is soggy. The park is also inadequate when compared to what the kids are used to. We pack into the car and drive to the mall. There is a kiddie play area there that toddlers seem to enjoy. That assessment is made by the level of screaming heard when I usually pass it at Olympic sprinting speed. Except this time, it's closed for an unspecified reason. I cry inside and mentally bang my head against the wall. We go to the Disney store instead, but the kids quickly realize that looking and not buying is not fun. We go into a sneaker store because I was looking for trail running shoes, and Monica needed a new pair of fashion sneakers for school.
Here marks the turning point. I will recount bits and pieces of what I observed.
Monica finds a pair of sneakers for school. While she is slowly trying them on, the aunt eyes a pair of New Balance sneakers for Andrew (the 3 year old) and asks the clerk to bring out a size 9. Those turn out to be too small. The aunt wants Andrew's foot measured, but he doesn't want to accommodate as he recoils his foot and furrows his brow. The clerk brings out a 10, but those are too big and they do not make half sizes for children. The aunt is trying to wrap up the shoes to give back, telling Andrew that they don't fit. "NO!" he screams, grabbing a shoe. He holds it at eye level in a throwing position. The aunt gives Monica her credit card to pay, so she takes off for the register. At that moment, Andrew loses eye contact with his sister and his face blanches, and he enters panic mode. More screaming, "MONNKUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, MONKUUUUUHHHHH". Foot stomping, knee bending, fist making. Whining. Crying. All of these things escalating exponentially as time passes. The aunt tries to bring him over to where his sister is, but he's stubborn and refuses to budge. The aunt drags him over to the register where he calms a little at the sight of his sister, but once we exited the store and started walking, maybe we were 10 feet ahead, he starts again.
I instruct Monica to take her little sister from her mother. Let the aunt contend with this mess. We continue to walk ahead at a snails pace.
He drops down in front of his mother and wraps himself around her ankles. The aunt moves forward still. He then stands in front of her with his back toward her knees, pushing against her to prevent her from moving forward. The aunt moves forward still. He's whining and screaming this whole time hysterically, bright red in the face, and gagging from the effort. He throws himself down on the floor in front of her while trying to grab her legs at the same time.
I cannot believe what I am witnessing this Friday night at the mall. So I reach into my purse and snap a photo. (I should have taken a video, but I was shellshocked at this point.) The aunt is not amused. I don't care though. I need evidence.
Andrew carries on for the entire lengthy transverse section of mall where every single passerby pretends not to notice. The aunt is embarrassed and frustrated. "What do you want Andrew? Tell me, what do you want?", I hear over and over again.
We get back to the car. He pees in the bushes. It's 9pm. One more quick stop, then back to the house. I excuse myself and hide up in my room. A conversation with my mother takes place where I am clearly instructed not to do or say anything that might "make your aunt feel bad". I clench my teeth a little and focus on getting some sleep in preparation for my early morning bike ride.
Except for the screaming that woke me up two or three times. Blood curdling, bloody-blue-murder screaming, which seems to be a regular occurrence with these kids. So after the third night of this, rather than climbing into my car with the pillows and blankets still wrapped around me from my own bed and driving to Kara's or Craig's for some uninterrupted sleep, I am now out on the patio listening to the soothing sound of early morning bird chirping.
I have left out an entire day of events, but let me template it for you.
We go to (place). (Quantity of time) pass, and Andrew throws a temper tantrum. The aunt is embarrassed. Monica is jaded. I am surprised/irritated, but quickly recede into my yoga-centric happy place. Repeat this maybe two or three times in one day. Return back to the condo. Sleep. Wake up every two or three hours to (Child's name) screaming.
Now, it's none of my business to tell anyone how to raise their kids. But when I'm exposed to this circus and it's pushing my comfort level, and definitely my tolerance level, what am I supposed to do? There's already a don't-do-anything-to-make-your-aunt-feel-bad mandate in place. Unfortunately for her, I might not say anything, but you can read me pretty easily. I've taken solace in the fact that her life is not my life, and that this visit is merely a temporary inconvenience. A character building experience, if you will. Kara made the point that I can skirt the issue by saying something like, "Oh, I'm going to Craig's place to sleep tonight because it's been a really long and stressful week, and I just need a night of uninterrupted sleep before I go to work tomorrow." Unfortunately for me, I'm a very direct person and it would probably come out like this, "Your kids are driving me crazy with their inexplicable nighttime screaming episodes. I'm a light sleeper, and have enough trouble sleeping on my own. I need sleep. I'm cranky. I'm going to Craig's. See ya."
Monica put it best yesterday when she said, "The dog walks its owner. Woof."
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NOTE: If you think this is bad, it's important to note that it is actually worse in real life because I did not put any background information into this story.
Dumpster Finds.
As promised, here's a couple of photos that display my dumpster finds. A little bike with training wheels for Samantha, and Wilson and Prince tennis racquets. An aside: Having two margaritas tonight can actually be considered preventative medication.
Asian Invasion.
They're here. And by they I mean:
They arrived last night. I guess a ship must've docked somewhere close by. Had I known they were coming, I would NOT have gotten myself a ticket for the soccer game that night. (Probably.) But, plans are plans, so after a quick dinner at a restaurant around the corner, I took off, but then spied this lovely toolish vanity plate on the way to the highway:
It was a smooth ride until I got onto the beltway. I had maybe 30 exits to go, and there was a wreck earlier at the 27th exit. However, the accident had been cleared and the sea of red lights in front of me was the result of pure rubbernecking. This kind of "driving" stresses me out a lot because there's really no reason for it aside from people being complete morons. So, my creative language starts up which basically involves a lot of frustrated yelling of nonsensical words of the following format: (expletive) + (noun). Here's an example. "Nice signaling there, (ASS)+(HAT)!!!" I even surprise myself with the combinations sometimes.
I finally got to the stadium, and settled in at the 25th minute. Luckily, it was still a scoreless game. Then, maybe two minutes later, DC United scores a goal. Then, another two minutes, and Chelsea's got one too. It was an exciting game because both teams were good. Saw some fancy footwork, nice steals and unfortunately, a breakaway that scored another goal for Chelsea. Freddie came out for the second half, but still, it was no use. He's fast, but those Chelsea guys are HUGE and covered him the whole time. Whenever Freddie got within shooting range, there were at least five Chelsea guys on him. And those guys were pretty big too. So to make a long story short, the game was good, I really missed Craig, I wanted to punch the annoying (and very short) Asian girl who was sitting to my left who gave a play by play narrative of what should have been happening in a nasal voice ("Cross it! Turn...TURN TURN TURN!!!! You've got time...DAMN, he had plenty of time AND space...What a waste!"), and the guy who was sitting in front of me had a nest of back hair poking out of his shirt and growing up his neck and that was just...nauseating. That's right, I did say "nest".
So, here's my view from where I was sitting. I didn't have many people in front of me, maybe 6 rows, but it was weird being in the corner, and it was hard to see what was going on in the field.
Need to run upstairs and finish authoring the technical paper I'm working on. It's due to be released on Monday, which means more work for next week. I'll post a better entry later, promise!
Hashing.
"We have a virrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgin!"
She held onto that r like it was her own. And she was describing me, a hashing virgin.
I wasn't going to go today. The whole area was under a severe thunderstorm watch from 5pm to 10pm with reports of 58 mph wind gusts and 3/4" hail west of this area. Too bad the weather moves east, and this hot dog shaped cloud was coming our way at 25 mph. I had to be at Alan's house by 6:50pm at the latest, and Rich was expecting me. The ever-so-logical Sam advised against it, but did I listen to him? (Do I ever?) Nope. It was dark outside, but there was no precipitation. Sometimes the rain skips this area. It happens all the time. So I didn't hesitate, and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and went downstairs. Of course, opening the garage door also unlocked the gates of hell and in the 5 seconds it took to get downstairs, the sheets of rain were so thick, it was hard to see the other side of the street.
I was satisfied with this outcome, because earlier, I went dumpster diving in the 110 degree heat, and I got some GOOD stuff. :) Even though used bed pillows fell on me, and I had to kind of touch discarded clothes (gross), it was all good. But I digress!
At 6:40pm, the rain relented into a light drizzle. The backroads were flooded, and there were plenty of branches in the road. Signal lights lost power, and I even passed an ambulance on the way to Alan's house. He lives on this very narrow and winding road that you have no business being on unless you live in the area. I passed his place three times, and the fourth time, Richard was standing off the side of the road. I think he was very surprised to see me because any sane person would have said, "Screw this!" Which is exactly what Laura did.
There were a lot of people gathered at the foot of the hill, mostly older, with graying hair. They looked the part of the geritol crowd, but they most definitely were young in spirit. Parking was extremely limited, and one guy pipes up, "Ya got four wheel drive on that thing? You can park down there, and it's flat once you get past the trees."
Excuse me? Oh, HELL no. Yes, I have four wheel drive, but the last thing I want to be doing is sliding around in the grass in an array of trees getting all sorts of scratches and dents in my car. And yes, I KNOW I drive an Xterra, and I'm supposed to be cool with these so-called rugged activities, but you listen and listen well: mud is as far as it goes.
So instead, I parked off the side of the road in a quicksand pile of mud. A silent thank-you to Dad who insisted I get a 4WD vehicle.
We congregate at the top of the hill and the host (who sets the trail) makes an announcement. A lot of hooting and hollering follows reminiscent of fraternity rally calls which means it was completely unintelligible. At least to my ignorant ears. The pack takes off running down the slick grassy hill. It was still raining. There was still thunder and lighting. What a bunch of crazy fools!
We reach the first sign at the foot of the bridge. Each sign represents a split in the trail. Only one path is the correct path. The pack deliberates for a second, splits and a few seconds later, there's some yelling of "On! On!" which translates to, "We are on the right trail!" At this point, if you're by the sign, you're supposed to put a scratch in it for the walkers, so they know which way to go. More running through trails. I'm thinking about ticks and poison ivy as I'm moving through brush and brambles, and dodging tree branches while navigating through slick rocks, puddles of water, mud, gnarly roots, and tree trunks across the trail. It's nothing like running aimlessly on a treadmill. It's more like hopping and leaping, so you get into a rhythm with your knees high and up-up-up, instead of striding across-across-across. We went down a trail in which we were greeted by a gigantic "X", so we yell "BT" which stands for "bad trail" which translates into, "Don't follow us, go the other way!" The other group that tried the other path will eventually run into a trail marker which is a dot on the trail itself, or on a tree, and you'll hear "On! On!" and try to follow the sound of that group. Which means cutting through parts that are not trail, and probably were never meant to be.
I was running at a slow, but steady pace chatting it up with another newbie cop who seemed to be interested. What a great time to talk about other nature related events like going to Luray last weekend with my BOYFRIEND! That did the trick. We stuck together though, and followed a guy who called himself Misguided Dick (don't ask) and was familiar with the trail.
We ran alongside a canal, then by the river stopping at several scenic overlooks. Great Falls is gorgeous. There were a couple of insane kayakers practicing in the white water. Eventually, we popped back out and were intercepted by Richard. We didn't do Swamp Trail, but we covered everything else, so figure maybe 5 miles of trail running was accomplished. It was awesome. I see how people can get addicted to this, and I had a great time even in what Richard characterized as the worst conditions given the heat wave and the storms.
When we got back, there were sandwich trays from Costco laid out. There was plenty of beer and wine, but I stuck with Gatorade and water. I don't know how you could slam down a beer after exercising, but the smell of alcohol was making me feel queasy. Rich started in once we settled down to eat about the open mic thing. That perked up interest in the group, and I was asked a lot about music and my background in it. Told them that I do covers, and named a few of the groups. Pearl Jam got the biggest response, and I figured this would be a good test audience. I finished a half of a sandwich and asked the lady of the house if she'd mind if I gave the piano a whirl. She didn't. They had an old Kimball piano that was slightly out of tune, but the acoustics of the room were forgiving and my voice was amplified and carried well, so that made up for it. They were floored at my rough cut of "Elderly woman..." I was slightly rattled because it's always a little unnerving to play and sing for strange people, so I know that the song definitely needs some work. But I'm hoping to do it in a couple of weeks. We'll see.
Out of Rich's almost 10 years of hashing, he noted that this was the first time they've ever had piano at a hash! I'm making a name for myself!
I had a great time, and I'm looking forward to doing it again next week. And what made my night even better was receiving a call from Craig once I stepped out of the shower!
It's late. Need sleep. Waking up early tomorrow to knock out a 1600m swim. :)
Hot.
When it feels like 110 degrees outside, hot is more than just a three letter word. I am so thankful for central air, so how about a haiku to celebrate?
Air conditioning;
Whooshing through twelve vents at home,
Hear the cooling whir.
Ok, so I never picked up the Asian haiku-writing gene, but I can do other things well. At least, I hope so!
Today was a completely random day at work. I went upstairs and sauntered into an office that I'm temporarily squatting at for the next three weeks while some guy is on vacation (lucky bastard) and as soon as I set foot into the office, W. says, "You're just in time!"
Enter panic mode. Was I supposed to be somewhere?
(Doubtful.)
Was somebody looking for me?
(HA! Laughable!)
Turns out, W. had an idea for the project I'm on, and it was across disciplines involving a little bit of engineering and business. So I spent all day writing up a white paper on the idea which should get a decent amount of attention once I release it. I'm hoping to have it ready by Thursday, but most of the office is on travel until Monday. I actually spent today doing real work!
Hold on.
(Spins around, draws another tally mark on the wall with a stick.)
Don't want to lose track.
Can't really give too many details about the paper since it's contract related, but I'm very curious to see how the higher ups are going to react. I've already got the buy in from the program manager on the contracting side, so I just need to work on the government side.
In other unrelated news, I've sabotaged a happy hour with the girls, and tricked them into going trail running with me instead tomorrow. I hope I can outrun them, because I'm pretty sure they're going to be irate halfway through when they realize that the trail markers are actually set up as a maze, and there is no clear path to the end.
I also managed to get myself a ticket for the DC United vs. Chelsea FC game this week. I wish Craig were here because he'd go with me. Wow, this is turning out to be an eventful week after all!
Two in one. One as two.
My eyes are playing tricks on me. Maybe it was the bright direct sunlight, or the glare of the pool, but I am seeing my grandmother in my mother. The last time I saw my grandmother as I like to remember her, it was the fall of '88. It's weird to think that I've lived more of my life without her than with her because still, she is very real to me. Her mannerisms, and expressions. The softness of her eyes, and the pleasant roundness of her face. I spent more time with her than my own mother during my formative years.
Thanks to my grandmother, I can understand phrases in Cantonese like, "Get over here NOW, before I beat you!" or, "You're such a BAD girl. Stop hitting your sister." or, "Don't make me get the feather duster (so I can beat you)!"
Empty threats, don't worry. She lacked the rage and fury to act on her words. (One of her offspring, however, had more than enough fire for all of us.) That's another story, another time.
We took a quick break from the pool to pick up my car, and I walk in with my little sister and the clerk stands there with a slack jaw, gaping. Ok, I'll start then.
"Hi, I'm here to pick up my..."
"Twins?"
"What?" Now I'm confused.
"Fraternal, not identical." He's stammering now. Dig dig digging a hole. "Um, ok, then, no more than five years apart?"
"Try eight."
He's floored. "Really???" Still staring.
Melissa doesn't know whether she should be happy, or offended. I'm getting impatient, shifting my weight from one heel to the other.
"Really." I flash my alligator smile hoping to end this conversation, slightly distracted. Sixteen, twenty-five...same difference?
Melissa's going off to college next year. This big sister is going to have some dogs to kick. :)
Iceland Flashback.
(from a journal entry on 9/18/04)
On the Reykjavik Excursions bus off to the Blue Lagoon. It's naked time! We got up around 6ish and laid in bed until 7:30am. Had the usual breakfast and packed lunch. Then, packed our bags, checked out and off we went!
Wow- the Blue Lagoon was definitely worth it! It seemed really scary at first as we were driving up to it. There's a power plant right next to it, so you see these huge industrial steel pillars (water storage and processing tanks I think). There was a large plume of steam and we thought, "Oh my god- there are PEOPLE in that?!" It looked suffocating.
The outside of the Blue Lagoon was stark minimalist. We gingerly walked toward...somewhere and once in a while, we were passed by people who looked completely zoned out. Zombified. Like they went through some kind of catharsis or something.
Then, I noticed the superfrizz. Oh wait, no, they actually are TRYING to form dreadlocks. Scary. Then, we realized that everyone exiting had superfrizz because the salt bath does a number on you. I say to Tina (referring to the dreadlocked couple), "I hope our hair doesn't look like THAT when we leave!"
This random blond lady pipes up, "Yes, it will..." and I was embarrassed. I hope she didn't think that I was referring to her!
The sun wanted to peek out, but it didn't. So we go in and it's completely antiseptic in a brainwashing-Zoolander type way. We give the girl at the front desk our ticket stub. Admission was 1200 ISK, and 300 ISK for a towel. Past the front desk, we went into a locker room. We had to take off our shoes, and we couldn't wear flip flops either. We had to shower immediately and thoroughly before going in- and I mean a soap, shampoo and conditioner shower, not a rinse-off!
It was freezing in the locker room! There were women just standing there. Boobs and thing flopping everywhere. I immediately started feeling better about myself. There was an open shower area, but also individual stalls. Took a long shower in the hot water, put on my suit and headed out into the freezing cold. The high was maybe 50, but it was damp. Felt even colder. Add in the wind and you've got yourself WINTER, practically!
We made our way to the water and it looks phenomenal, like some surreal Dali interpretation of heaven. Don't people feel the freezing ice cold air? The steam gently billowed from the surface of the water creating a sort-of human hot pot.
I stepped gingerly into the milky blue water and at first it felt pleasant, like, a little warmer than a bath, but cooler than a hot tub. Then, my ankles were on FIRE! I guess they were so cold that the contrast was even greater.
The wind picked up, so we dropped down to neck level in the water and waded all around. We were near a pump because the water was I-flushed-the-toilet-while-you-were-in-the-shower hot. That kind of sucked. There was a fake waterfall, and areas with benches molded into the sides. Most people just sat around.
It felt really good to soak after horseback riding. There were pots of silica mud which apparently is used for mud masks. Not a great idea because it's hard to wash off your face in the extremely HOT and SALTY water. We took tons of photos.
The timing was perfect, and we had 5 minutes to spare once we boarded the bus. It took 10 minutes from that point to get to the airport and another 15 to check in, go through security and make it to the gate. The flight was 75% empty. We got fed a light lunch that we were more than thankful for. Tomato bread with cheese melted in the center. Cheese and bread. Cheese and bread. Is that all Europeans eat??
We finally arrived in London and knew immediately that we weren't in Kansas anymore. The grid of lights stood out on our approach. Iceland was barren.
Good-bye. Hello.
Reluctantly dropped Craig off at the airport this afternoon so he could embark on his Alaska seal clubbing escapade. He even stopped shaving for a couple of days to achieve the rugged look. (Scratchiness was achieved, but whether that look was actually achieved is questionable.)
On the bright side, I'll have a lot more time next week so I'll need some help figuring out my schedule. It's hard to plan for everything. Maybe I can schedule the wild co-ed toga party between the bar crawl and last minute jaunt to Vegas. And don't forget the regularly scheduled activities, like tennis five times during the week, hitting up the company gym a couple of times, seeing other friends and of course, practicing piano.
Speaking of which, working on a couple more covers for open mic. I played a rough cut of "Elderly woman..."- Pearl Jam yesterday and Craig said it was good. So, that plus "Your Cloud" - Tori Amos should be sufficient. If you have any good cover ideas, please, leave a comment! I'm thinking August 8th or 15th for the next go at it.
Living by the airport is nice because it's convenient. No need to plan hours ahead for a trip. Living by the airport also means that I go there often. This week has been riddled with lots of good-byes and hellos. I prefer the latter. T's back, and so is Kara, but we won't be returning to our regularly scheduled shenanigans because the parents are back tomorrow AM.
This is what I expect to see for most of the day tomorrow. The same exact chair. The same exact view. BTW- my place is similar to the left portion of this unit starting from (and including) the brick face.
The Emoting Scalp.
Bob, the #1 boss man on the contractor side recruits me on Friday to go to a user conference through Wednesday of this week. So here I am. I've been buddy-buddy with Joe, the #1 boss on the gov't side, though it doesn't really matter since he's rotating out soon to take another 3 year assignment. Lucky for me, Joe turns out to be an irreverent jokester, and has been a good source of distraction for the past day. He points to my right and says,
"Watch that guy's head in the striped shirt."
"Um...WHY??"
"Just watch. Trust me."
The guy's whole scalp moved just like a jellyfish on the intake and expulsion of water. No joke. And he did it again and again. (He was talking very enthusiastically with the woman sitting to his right.) It was completely mesmerizing, though somewhat unnatural. I guess each time he raised his eyebrows, the..um..excess skin of his head just cascaded back. I haven't seen any other back-of-the-head here that has exhibited the same properties. His hair vibrates after each quick move and settles back into its spiky hedgehog formation.
It was hard to suppress the laughing fit (and snorting).
Conferences by definition are boring, so here's a quick transcription of random notes I've jotted down across yesterday and today.
3:45pm Someone just cut one loose. I think I know who dunnit.
150 participants, maybe 25 women, if you even want to call them that.
3:55pm OMG, that woman has a mullet.
3:57pm OMG, that guy in the back has perfected the art of sleeping with his eyes
open. Jealous.
4:00pm Users ask stupid questions.
4:11pm I'm definitely the youngest person at this conference.
4:18pm Mass exodus. I'm jealous.
4:23pm Monotone engineering/IT guy is READING his slides. Ugh.
8:42am Already on my second cup of coffee. Engineers giving presentations = boring and robotic Need to make business classes and public speaking a requirement in the engineering curriculum.
9:15am Seriously contemplating a nap in the car.
10:16am Engineers can NOT give marketing briefs.
10:37am It's becoming more and more obvious that not a single presenter has paid attention to the time allocated to their presentation. There are 4 presenters scheduled from 8:10 to 9:50. We're up to #3, and it's already 10:37!! This is worse than the Tom Ridge Four Pillars of Freedom graduation speech on that 50 degree May day in the pouring rain.
2:54pm Can I leave yet?
3:27pm The General is giving his speech. I wake up to the following fragment: "...maybe the word exists in some Slavic or Oriental language." Ah, nice and PC, just the way I like it.
3:45pm Oh no he didn't. He didn't just end his speech with the words, "Please deliver."
Only a half day left. Hopefully there will be some good feedback coming out of this effort so I have something to report back to the office.
Meet the Parents.
Exciting news! The parents met Craig this weekend and even though I knew they'd like him, I was still nervous. You can never be too certain, you know? It was a little awkward at first. Dad left a hunting knife out on the table, but I managed to put away the other stuff quickly when the bell rang. I was expecting the mom Katie-Couric transformation, but she didn't do it. (Her real job requires the phony schtick so sometimes she does it out of habit.) Eventually, dad got comfortable enough to talk about his ass and hemorrhoids later in the evening.
Craig was impeccable- he even tucked in his shirt! I think the parents were impressed. They started acting like normal at dinner. I was waiting for the "signs". Dad grunting, or generally disinterested, or making a hunting joke like, "The next time you come by, I'm going to put antlers on your head" which is supposed to be a funny-ha-ha joke, but it really means, "I want to kill you then gut you." Mom will do the talking-through-clenched-teeth thing, or the sucking-in-her-cheeks thing, or the sighing thing, but she seemed comfortable. I've been sending the parents photos once in a while and mom always comments on how happy I look. Associating me + happy + Craig probably helps a little. :)
I still need to get the scoop from Melissa. She makes some priceless faces in response to these kinds of things.
It's weird to think that Craig has only been in the picture for a couple of months because it feels much longer. I've even managed to quell the fault-finding anxious voice in my head because too-good-to-be-true was becoming the mantra. Funny how the right person can make every day seem new and exciting.
Fun!
Whew! Back to the daily grind after a long and fun weekend that included a cult of soccer fans, a big hole in the ground, tennis, swimming, real estate prospecting and meeting the parents. Judy's here, which means that I no longer have a need for an alarm clock. She starts howling at 5:45am. Good thing she's cute, else I'd tie her to the tree outside. Just kidding. Maybe.
On Friday, I took Craig to a DC United game (my first *real* soccer game ever!) and it was fun. I was surprised at how close we were to the players. But a little disappointed because no-one had cool soccer hair. Boo to that. So I'm watching, completely enthralled, and then the bleachers start swaying and this large, seemingly disorganized group starts chanting and beating a drum. Lots of flag waving, fists pumping in the air and probably a whole lot of alcohol consumption too. Soccer fans are interesting.
The somewhat sparse turnout surprised me too. But I quickly came to the conclusion that soccer is too athletic of a sport to truly be embraced by (mostly) lazy Americans. Think of all the standing around and waiting that occurs during America's favorite pastime. And now, get a mental picture of the fans. Yep. Exactly.
On Saturday, we took a ride out to Luray Caverns for the cave tour, and it was a good opportunity to learn how to use the Lumix. Check out these translucent formations, with and without flash for your viewing pleasure, Leslie!
Oh, and check out this caving outfit. Need I even mention that she's Asian?
And here we are, lurking not too far behind. The rock formations were breathtaking, especially with the lighting effects. There were so many interesting textures in the cave from a sinister staccato to malleable marshmallow. But I won't bore you any more with pictures of rocks.
A Self-Study.
This one was inspired by a Toothpaste for Dinner comic that Craig sent me.
This is a soft example of the work I'm expected to do in real life. It's the first run through, and usually associated with other artifacts for traceablility. However, creating those artifacts require a full examination of the process of doing nothing, and that would just be too depressing.
Enjoy!
http://www.freewebs.com/thetorifile/workflowanalysis.htm
Uncanny.
Consulting is such a difficult job to truly define. So you can probably imagine the mini stupor I enter when someone casually asks, "What do you do?"
The honest answer covering the past 6 weeks would simply be, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And it was everything I thought it could be!" Except that it's not quite Office Space because doing absolutely nothing while being confined at work is not fun.
But yesterday, I doubled my list of things-that-I-do-at-work. Yes folks, it was a momentous occasion! In between doing nothing, I pose people for photos. Behold!
Confessions of a Serial Blogger
No highfalutin introduction necessary. As a serial blogger, I know full well that this blog has a life expectancy of no more than 16.5 months, so buckle up and enjoy it while it lasts.
It's scary, but Thradius's assessment of me being a "closet nerd" is becoming more and more apparent. I try to go to the company gym a couple of times a week, and it's small, but brand new. Usually by 7pm, it's completely empty so I essentially have a private gym. And believe you me, I take full advantage of this without even realizing it. Like watching Jeopardy while on the treadmill, and yelling out answers at the top of my lungs a la Tourette's.
Last night, there was a category for words that started off as nouns, but became verbs after common (mis)usage. An easy one for $200: A state of water, or you can do this to a cake. Answer: "What is ice?" Too easy, I know. Further down the row, for $800: A noun originally, but now you do this to look up someone.
Miss Tourette blurts out, "Finger!!! FINGER!!" while on the treadmill.
Alex Trebek: "The correct answer is, 'What is...google?'"
If you're smirking to yourself, pat yourself on the back fellow nerd!
