Thanks Dan, Ian, and Colin for letting me use this space until I could get my server up to speed for MT.

The Thursday before leaving for New York, I was very making sure all my work was done before leaving town. It was a bad traffic day, both for speediness and parking issues. At my first stop of the day, after driving around for fifteen minutes, I finally found a spot. I had to park downwards on a steep hill. So, I left my car in gear, a rarity for me. Got into the restaurant a few minutes late, had a strange visit, but it resulted in a placement so I couldn’t’ complain. Got back out to my car, put the wine away, got in, looked down and thought, “Oh look, the car is already in reverse!” Started the car and let out the E-brake and fed the car a little extra gas because I was trying to reverse on a hill. Too bad the car was in first gear, I lurched forward and smacked the car ahead of me pretty well. So with shaky hands and a lurching stomach I got out and looked at both car bumpers. I hit the car ahead of me with my license plate only and disturbed some dust on both cars. I looked pretty good and I didn’t see anything to worry about. Whew!

As I got into my car to drive away I noticed a pedestrian writing my license plate number down. So I got back out and explained to her that I checked both bumpers and they looked fine so I didn’t think it was any big deal. She just kind of looked at me like I was an asshole and said, “Well it is a government car, and I work for the government so I think a lot of people just walk away from things like that.” I told her I would leave my own note and that seemed to satisfy her and she walked away. Dutifully I left a note, name, number, small explanation. For the rest of the day, every time my phone rang, I thought I was going to throw up.*

At the end of my work day I hurried home to wash clothes for my trip. As usual, I left it until the last minute. This is the time that our washer decided to break, with half of my trip clothes in the machine, all soapy and wet. I thought I had merely underloaded it and it got out off center. (Hi, this is a front loader, do they do that?) So I put a bunch more clothes and soap in, and started it over. No dice. I dried what I could and ended up taking some work clothes along, instead.**

My flight left for New York at midnight, so by 10 p.m. I was starting to get antsy, but the Hub was still dicking around on his computer saying, “Don’t worry, right after I finish this, just another minute.” Whenever he says that I know that I have at least ten minutes to kill. With the car bumping and the broken wash machine it had been a somewhat stressful day so I decided I deserved a glass of wine. I go pour myself a half glass of wine, my only for the evening. Perhaps I should have been drinking since the machine broke down? I go into the computer room and set the glass of wine next to my computer and turn to talk to the Hub and just catch the edge of the glass and send it flying. Flying all over my laptop. It was shut down, yet open, because I am stupid like that. Exactly like parking with your car in gear. Luckily, so I thought, I had a skin over my keyboard and that’s where all the wine landed. I get a towel, wipe everything down, pull off the skin and wash it and set it out to dry. Looks like everything is fine so I go off to NYC feeling as if I had narrowly averted disaster.***

The Monday after I get back from work I decide to update my handheld work computer from home. I plug it into the phone, update it and then the badass thing freezes up. I reset it and lost all my data. I then had to spend 2 hours at the office the next day getting it fixed. Luckily I didn’t lose any orders. Just my sanity.

*The driver of the car never calls back, so I feel very correct in assuming I didn’t do any damage. The one highlight of my fucked up day.

**The Hub calls Sears and gets us an appointment to get the machine fixed the following Monday. He even works from home part of the day so there is someone there when the guy arrives. Except that he doesn’t. Whoever took our call never set our appointment up. So I call them and they say we can’t get an appointment for another two weeks. I get all Customer Service Bitchy and tell them I am not waiting for an appointment when we already HAD one and in any other business they would have a tech out the next day, during a time that would fit OUR schedule. They put us on a waiting list for the next day and PROMISE they will call us later that night to let us know when someone is coming. Of course, no one calls and when we call back the next day, they say they are coming anytime between 1pm and 5pm. HA! Since we can’t swing that between our schedules, we have to make an appointment for Saturday, May 7. Dude shows up, takes 2 minutes to look at our washer only to tell us the part we need has to be ordered. Yet, another week to wait. Which is why I am typing this from a local laundromat. [It has been called to my attention that this sentence indicates that the local laundromat has wifi. It is unfortunately untrue, I was hoping to pull from some neighbor's network. Instead I had to type this out on Word and wait to get home and post it.]

*** Turns out some of the wine seeped into the little grill at the hinge and ruined the monitor. Rather it ruined some light in the monitor but the gist is that it is $600 to fix. I have a 12”, dvd/cdr combo drive, 20g hd, 600 mhz iBook that is a few years old, clearly. For $650 we could buy a refurbished 14”, dvd/cdr combo drive, 30g hd, 800mhz iBook. The choice was clear, but again, there was a week’s wait for the computer to come from Portland, Oregon. It is here, and after a very easy data swap, the whole thing looks and feels like my old computer, but with 10g more hard drive space.

Can I be done, now?

Apparently that would be the best time to stop working. Guess I am buying some new clothes when I get there.

See you all Monday!

(the Hub saved the day [sorta] by not only calling the repair people and setting up and apppointment, he also remembered to extend the warranty on our 3 year-old machine, hooray for men!)

Last week we were in a group meeting and everyone else at the table had a Laguiole except me! One girl found one in a box that had been lying around her house for over a year. She received it as a gift from a supplier and didn't think it was a Laguiole and just tossed it aside. I think it was at this point that I said, "Man! I would do almost ANYTHING for one of those!"

The guy sitting next to me asked, "Anything?"

His job previous to our little group was working supplier side for a well known wine group. Turns out he had a couple of branded ones just hanging around at his house. If I didn't mind getting one with the name of a winery on it, I could have it.

Of course I told him to stick his branded wine key up his ass. YEAH RIGHT, the beautiful thing has been with me all weekend. I might sleep with it under my pillow tonight. Best part, it was free! Good thing, too, since they seem to have gone up in price.

There are a few rules and procedures to do before and after you get your fuel. Turn a key, zero out the meter, turn on the pump thingee, when done you mark down how much you used, etc. While I am doing this I get two calls on my cell phone and I get a little distracted. I also had to call the Hub to find out how much biodiesel we had left on our account. I go to get in the car. No keys. Turns out I left them in the hutch. So, duly embarrassed I get my keys out and then get in the Beetle and take off.

Four blocks later I glance in the right side rearview mirror. Oh shit! I left the gas door open and the gas cap off. So I stop to fix the problem and feel a deep relief that no one caught this silliness of mine. Then the Cell rings, it is the Hub.

"Hello?"

"Hey, you need to fix your gas cap."

(pause)
(look around)

"Um, how did you know?"

"Doctor Dan's just called to let me know I didn't get my gas cap on. I told them it couldn't be me and they asked if I had a yellow Beetle, so I told them it must be you."

Looks like I can pretty much just shrivel up and die now.

On this day the man was there as usual but over on the right side there was a dude in a suit and sunglasses. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, early forties. People who walked by him started laughing and I was craning my neck to get a good glance at his sign. He finally turned my way and I motioned for him to hold his sign higher as the guard rail was blocking my view. The sign said, "HAVE JOB, HAVE APARTMENT, HAVE JOB, NEED DATE 555-1212" Ok, so I made the phone number up, so to speak. When he saw that I was paying attention, he held up his other hand with another smaller sign. "STRAIGHT."

I got a good laugh and went on my way. After the staff training I was walking out of the restaurant towards my car and across the street I saw a lady in a regular wheelchair. She had a standard size poodle on a leash and that poodle was HAULING ASS down the street. She was probably travelling about 20 miles per hour on the sidewalk.

Apparently, I need to be carrying a digital camera around with me at all times.

She grew up, moved away, went to college, fell in love. They moved in together into a cute little apartment. It was only natural that there would be disagreements and when they reached that point where nothing was being accomplished but yelling she felt this need, this urge to get her keys and take a walk. He would always try to get her to stay.

“Please don’t go.”

She never realized he thought she was leaving, never to return. The feeling just burst up inside her, have to get away, got to GO. So she went. As she was storming around the neighborhood she kept waiting for the relief, for the clear head, the thing that always brought the parent back. Instead she rolled around and argued in her head, getting more and more pent up; more pissed off. She kept waiting for an idea to come from above with clarity. A place to head to, a thing to do. That feeling remained elusive and she always returned to finish the fight. They always made up afterwards. Taking a walk was never the answer.

Later, when she got a car she would drive away, only to wonder where in the world would she go? It was too boring to go to a restaurant alone, bars were too depressing, and all the coffee shops were already closed. In less than five minutes she returned home.

When they argued at night they had no recourse but to make up, since there wasn’t a spare bed for anyone to sleep in. They achieved that luxury when, after a year, they moved into a house. She could storm off and sleep in the spare. It felt so good when he came to get her in the middle of the night, not that she was hoping for that reaction. At least she didn’t think so. However, she couldn’t describe the sting she felt when he didn’t go downstairs and try to coax her back to bed. The first time she slept the whole night in the spare bedroom, she woke up all discombobulated and then terribly sad when she realized where she was.

They fought horribly that weekend. Every old grudge and all sorts of new wrinkles thrown in. For the first time ever he said, “That’s it, I have to get out of this house. I am going for a walk.” She went to him, she sat down, took his hands, looked him in the eyes and said, “Don’t go.”

Not because she didn’t want him to go and cool off, or that she didn’t want a little time to herself, but rather because she knew how it felt to have a loved one ask you to stay. There was also the terrible feeling when they didn't ask. Maybe he knew she didn’t really care if he stayed or took a walk because the fighting escalated again and he finally left.

When he was gone she wondered if he was discovering that leaving offered no solace. As she washed the dishes she thought about where she might go if this relationship was over. Probably she could go stay at a cousin’s house. While these thoughts were going through her head she also considered who they might invite over for dinner tomorrow for the meal she worked so hard preparing that day. “Is it crazy to prepare for the future both with and without your mate at the exact same time?” she wondered.

She heard the door open and he came in from his walk. No words were spoken, he just came up to her and hugged her. She hugged him back in the same light as when she begged him not to go. She did it because he needed it, rather than because she was apologetic. He hugged her for ages, she started to worry about her neck being all turned sideways. Then she held him a little away and looked him in the face. She kissed him and then held him tight again. She needed it, she pulled him even closer and started to cry. She felt healed, this thing she did for him ended up being very much for her.

She said, "I never really liked red wine but my parents were really into wine and since I couldn't ever afford anything I would just drink whatever they were pouring. One night I tried this red wine and it was LIKE A PARTY IN MY MOUTH!"

A party in my mouth?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

There was some stunned silence around the table and I just started laughing. I kept waiting for her to say the punch line to round out the joke. But. She. Never. Did. She didn't know the joke!

All I could think about was the Simpons episode where they got by the censors when Moe said, "There's a party in mouth and everyone's invited!"

Good times.

Everything always gets back to the Simpsons.

There was a very amusing anecdote wherein my sister, H-star, told a story that involved burning her "cookie" the first time she used a bidet. I, myself, tried to convince her to use the word "coochie" because it is much funnier. However, she was having none of it. She was especially grossed out by my further suggestion of "taco". I mean, it kinda looks that way, doesn't it? You have to think hard taco, though, because soft taco is just too gross.

Here is a fact that came up that evening as well: Whenever you travel to another country, you will always come away with a poop story. Therefore, even though I already printed this, ahem, a couple of times, here is my olden and golden story about pooping in Argentina:. (that link will send you to the MUCH, much longer and definitely more boring story of my flight to Argentina and then my first night)

Had a great time talking (as much as was possible) to all the people and we stayed up pretty late. I got a chance to show them my laptop (showoff, I couldn’t even wait one day, I had even told myself that I wouldn’t bring it out about 20 minutes before) and pictures and it was a very pleasant evening. They showed me the room I would sleep in and the little bathroom just off of it. I was made to understand that the little bathroom was only for when the other was occupied and it was emergency status. One note about Argentina, and most likely any other South American country, no one EVER sleeps. Everyone in the house was up past midnight and I finally said I had to hit the hay.

One thing about flying, there are always people waiting in line for the bathrooms so it is kind of embarrassing to stink one up, plus I have performance anxiety, so it just isn’t even possible for me to, to, ummm, well, YOU KNOW. Then I was whisked right away onto the sightseeing journey and then another plane and THEN a house full of strangers, none of whom would go to bed. There was not a chance to go, as my friend Gareth said, “Oh lord, just say it..poo!” So I woke on Saturday at 6am having not gone, ummmm, you know, poo, for a good 2 days. Well, a small private bathroom that no one ever uses, early enough in the morning for it to clear up of smell, sounds like just the right kind of emergency for me. Afterwards I felt sooooooooooooooooooo much better. Until I went to flush. Hmmmmm, where the hell was the handle? For that matter where the hell was the tank? It was just a toilet connceted to the wall. I found several faucet handles, but upon further inspection none of them were for flushing. There was a hole in the wall above the toilet and I looked into it, hmmm the tank! Behind the wall and seems to be missing its lid. It looked like it had been made in 1899 but at least I was onmy way to a solution. However I haven’t ever flushed a toilet without the handle before and didn’t have a single clue as how to operate one. I kinda pushed and pulled at some wires. No go.

I see the foater thing that goes down when you flush the toilet (you know the thing that measures the water level and shuts the water off when the tank is full?) well I was exausted of other ideas so I pushed it down. Hard enough to make it stay down, not too hard though, remember this is an antique. Well it stayed down and the water in the tank turned on and no big surprise, the toilet didn’t flush. What brilliance! I mean, if I had been thinking about, I would have known that would happen. Who was thinking though?

So the toilet doesn’t flush and the tank is filling up, oh SHIT, literally. What to do now? I try to pull the floater thing up, to shut off the water, nope. Mess with a few of the wires and this has the exact same response as before, nothing. And now the water is starting to overflow!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT. What a great morning.

So I give in and go out into the living room. It is my one lucky break that Sergio just happened to be awake (didn’t I tell you these people never sleep?). So I asked him for help (actually upon reflection I realized that I said, “I need to help” but he got the idea). The first thing Sergio does is pull some little wire sticking out in the front that any sane person would have realized was the way to flush the toilet. Then he spends about 2 more cycles of flushing and filling getting the plunger thing to come back up. Apparently there used to be a full wall and a little button to push to flush the toilet, but it broke and they had to break into the wall, probably the reason few people used that bathroom. Anyway, I couldn’t have been MORE embarrassed, but Sergio was really really cool about it. I have the suspicion that he doesn’t realize that I shoved that plunger thing down, or maybe he does.

Can you imagine getting a ticket for changing clothes at a light????????????????? Dude, I was in BRA-ONLY while driving, that could be a serious moving violation, I suspect.

Since I have to drive for my new job and a perfect driving record is a plus all I could think about was how this might affect my record. TG that the dude kept on driving. Narrow escape is all I have to say. And DUDE could I use the word DUDE more often these days? Not sure, DUDE.

He said, "I had heard that, but I was hoping you had changed your mind."

Here's a clue, if someone you want to keep employed gives notice, you arrange a meeting with them and give a counter offer. You don't just sit in your office far, far away and HOPE that person changes their mind.

We saw this cat lounging in the Parc Grüell in Barcelona. I bet he likes himself some small, bony fish.

I remember a dish of small, bony fish that we ordered in Spain. I couldn't tell if you ate them whole, crunch, crunch, crunch, or picked the measly meat off the bones and they were a tad too fishy for me. The Hub got to eat the charming things.

In other news, I completed week two of my half-marathon walk training. Yay me! and yay for the lovely iPod that I got for Christmas. Maybe someday I could be the Jared (of Subway fame) for iPods. AHhHAHahahAHAHhahahahaha, ahem. Even more exciting was the box of extremely old Fortune magazines we found in the backroom while cleaning it out for the upcoming birthday party. Twelve magazines dating from 1935-40. Since we loves us some eBay, once I get off my lazy duff and post them, I will provide a link. (Can I kill a line more thoroughly???????)

**postscript - there aren't any comments because they broken and the link to the About Me, well that doesn't work right now either, because we haven't set up the used iMac I bought for a replacement server, yet. That pretty much means my personal website that is run off that server isn't up, either. If I sound even remotely techy that would only be due to the good ole Hub. When it comes to computers I am COMPLETELY gaytarded.