Go, Funky Rat, Go! Go!

Tis The Season To Be Busy

2008-12-28T19:38:00.000-08:00

I'm happy to say we had a great holiday promo at work. We were all a bit concerned, but we had a better year than last year!

We've been remodeling the house (on the landlady's dime!), and I've had precious little time between that and the 50-60 hour workweeks.

So until I can decompress, and come up with something earth-shattering to share, here's something to ponder for all you cat parents:

Role Reversal

2008-10-03T19:51:00.000-07:00

I'm beginning to thing that I am slowly reversing roles with my parents.

My mom has a friend. I believe that this person does value my mom's friendship, but a lot of their relationship is one sided. "Let's go shopping. Can you pick me up?". "I want to go somewhere. Can you drive?". Never "Let's meet at the parking lot because it's halfway." or "I'll drive this time and you drive next."

I don't know what the deal is, and I really don't need to. I just know that with the cost of gas, it just doesn't seem right. When I go places with friends, we trade off driving, or chip-in for gas, etc. I remember my mom telling me ages ago that it was the polite thing to do. She grumbled at a few people I was friends with at one time or another (no one who would be reading this) who would call and want me to go somewhere but that involved my mom picking them up and taking them there. "A good friend will meet you halfway in terms of driving, paying, etc." Seems she forgot that.

I could understand if this person didn't drive or have a 2nd car, but that's not the case. I know this person is short of money on occasion, but mom always said that if you don't have the money to contribute, don't expect others to pick up your slack.

Next week, she will be accompanying this person to New Orleans. She wants mom's company. She wants mom's help in setting up for an event. But mom's not invited to the actual event. She can come to the after party, but that's it. She's forked over money and time for this, with little to no return. She was expected to stay in a certain hotel and buy an outfit that met with what they were trying to achieve, but can't come to the event.

So I put on my "mom" hat and said "Jeez. Doesn't seem exactly fair, and if I was expected to fork out a lot of money, and have met with their criteria but aren't good enough to attend, then I wouldn't go. Plain and simple."

She replied that she didn't care (but something told me that deep down she did) and she's always wanted to travel there and was looking forward to sight seeing, but I don't see that happening. I see her tied down with helping set up something she can't go to. And that sucks.

But she's 60 now. I've imparted all the wisdom that I was told over the years. I guess we have to let them go at some point and make mistakes........ :D

Deep Thoughts On Things......Life.......Whatnot

2008-08-16T20:28:00.000-07:00

(Life is not whatnot, and it's none of your business - an homage to my favorite movie)

I've been bad at following through on things I wanted to do. Oh sure, I mean well. I haven't been to the gym since the end of May because of vacation, then massive hours at work. That's slowed down now, but I've gotten out of the habit of going, and that sucks. I haven't gained any weight, but I haven't lost either.

I've been meaning to keep up better with this, but, well, see above.

I've been meaning to do a lot of things.

I was browsing the last few posts I made. I'm still enjoying my Beatles cartoons. I still love Warranty Direct (one of my electric windows broke while on vacation, and they took care of it!). The feud between my friend Javier and the "other faction" involved has chilled out. I enjoyed my vacation. All should be right with the world. Things should be golden - I should be happy (yes, another homage). Ah, but it's not to be.

I had written a letter to my husband's uncle. I'm sure I've mentioned him here before. Without major explanation, he's been incarcerated in a State Correctional Institute out in western PA since 1977, I believe. In short, Ron did some things that were wrong, but he was trapped in a trial with major political implications, and he was made an example of. Life with no possibility of parole for him. Hell, even The Manson Family gets regular parole hearings. The lifers here in the Commonwealth have a saying: Life Is For-Ever. Among the people trapped in this cruel punishment are people who were as young as 17 when they accompanied an ill-advised friend to something bad, and got caught in the crosswind. Ron often said himself that yes, he did some things that were bad, and he wouldn't say he was innocent or railroaded or framed. He deserved punishment. But as someone who didn't commit the crime he was punished for (but being present while the crime was committed will hold you equally culpable under our laws), how much is enough? Ten years? Twenty? Thirty was where Ron was at. Far worse criminals don't serve that long, and are often out for good behavior.

I wasn't feeling well last Wednesday. I had picked up a 24 hour bug going around, but I had an uneasiness going down all day. Something somewhere wasn't right. I got home, and was darting to the restroom when I noticed a "1" on the answering machine. I paused, and hit the button (because of aforementioned uneasiness). It sounded like someone wanted to say something, but hung up. It didn't sound like a salesperson or anything like that. I proceeded down the hallway, and figured I'd dig deeper in a little while. I hit the caller ID menu. Just one call - from Aunt Terri. The uneasiness creeped back, but I thought maybe it was good news, and I called.

I tried to be cheery and hopeful. I heard an exhausted sounding "Hello" at the other end. I said "Hey Terri. I saw you called but didn't leave a message. What's up?". I heard nothing but silence, and then a sigh, followed by "Um, Ron died last night". I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. I listened numb as she explained how he and his cellmate always joked around, and his cellmate had gotten up in the night, and saw Ron was "laying funny". He thought it might be a joke, but felt uneasy about it and shook him. He was unresponsive. A number of attempts were made to revive him with no luck. They took him to a hospital and he was pronounced dead of a heart attack. He was 61.

I tried my best to console Terri. She sounded exhausted. I asked the all-time bonehead question: "Are you OK?". She said "Um, no, not really". I told her that was incredibly stupid of me, and she said it was OK, and she needed a chuckle. We talked a bit, and she said she had to go, and she'd call with arrangements. Two minutes later, the phone rang, and it was Nelson calling to tell me he'd be late. Shades of me telling him his mother died creeped back to me. I must have subconsciously done as I did when his mom died because he kept asking me what was wrong, and I kept telling him we'd talk later. As before, he finally got it out of me. He said he almost ran the truck off the road. We'd just seen him in June. He was his usual happy self. No indications whatsoever that it would be the last time we'd see him.

The next day, I sat at my desk in the morning, and looked over to see his letter that I had written. It was in an envelope, only needing a stamp, but I had never gotten around to mailing it. That bothered me. Why couldn't I just have taken two minutes and sent the dang thing? He loved mail, and he would never get my letter because I didn't do what I should have.

As I finalized things Monday afternoon before leaving for his viewing down in the Lehigh Valley, I grabbed the letter and put it in my car. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. We started the long drive down, and talked about who might or might not show up, and who we might have to "deal with" while we were there. My husband's family is like the box of chocolates from Forrest Gump - you'll never know what you'll get. To say it's dysfunctional is an understatement. Most of them were horribly abused, or shuffled through the system. Many grew up to be drug addicts or alcoholics (my husband included - 11 years sober now, he doesn't even like non-alcoholic beer anymore). Most have deep-seeded animosity toward some of the others. Others still will choose up sides. A family get-together is guaranteed to get ugly at some point - that's why we often only see them at weddings and funerals. After Ron's passing, it left only one of the siblings left - an Aunt that estranged herself from many of the others long ago. I'd only been around her once - at a funeral - and Nelson's mom saw to it that we didn't go anywhere near her, as they did not get along. We wondered if she'd show up. She didn't show up at Nelson's mom's funeral, but that's because she told her at another sister's funeral that she'd better not come (so she didn't). You get the picture, and what we were thinking.

So we got there (relatively early), and it was largely Ron's kids and grandkids there - what we expected. Nelson's step-dad was there, and we chatted with him. Not too long after, Nelson's cousin (daughter of aforementioned aunt) showed up. She and I never really got along because she was too rough with her daughter and discipline and I threatened to kick her ass once. I see nothing wrong with a swat on the rear end, but you do not pick your kids up by the armpits and shake them! And since none of the people there said anything (because they were not only treated that way but most had treated their kids that way), I made sure she knew it wasn't cool. There are other reasons I have issue with her, but I don't believe in airing all the family's dirty laundry in public, but let's just say it involves one of her kids, and that's a bad spot for me.

I was shocked when she came up and hugged me. She talked to me like we never had issues. She then told me she had split with her husband (who was part of the problem) and I was pleased that it sounds like she's grown up a bit. I didn't see her hit any of her kids - just raise her voice, and it wasn't bad. Nelson asked if her mother was coming, and sure enough, she walked around the corner. We both jumped, because her resemblance to Nelson's mom was uncanny, and it creeped us out for a minute.

Then the unexpected happened. Nelson said he felt the need to talk to her, and he did, and they had a rather pleasant conversation. No bickering, no blame - just healing, and that's good. She gave us her address and phone number, and told us we were welcome to visit. She even said she'd help us identify people in Nelson's mom's photos. And I say a step in the right direction is good no matter what.

A little later, two of Nelson's late Aunt's three kids came with their kids, who were tiny the last time I saw them. I always liked the girls, and felt bad for them when their mom died so young. Their dads aren't in their lives, so they were essentially orphans in their early 20's. Problem is that Nelson's mom promised her sister she'd look after them, but took it too literally, and they finally asked her to leave them alone, and so anything we heard about his cousins was negative.

The next morning, I noticed that Ron's letter was still in the back of my car. I told Terri, and she told me that she wanted me to give the letter to him, because it was his, and he could read it later. He had a beautiful service, and when time came to close the casket, I put the letter under his hand. Like Terri said, he'll have something to read later. There were some pictures in there too that I'm sure he'll enjoy. Nelson served as a Pall Bearer, and he had a lovely Military burial.

At the after-service get-together, all of "us kids" (Nelson's cousins, and his brother) were chatting about the older generation, and how it's effectively kept us from knowing the family. We exchanged phone numbers, and addresses, and e-mail addresses, and agreed to keep in touch. And I mean it this time. Life is just too short.

And if you have a letter laying around, ready to be mailed - please mail it.

We Love You Beatles, Oh Yes We Do.......

2008-06-27T21:16:00.000-07:00

I thank my parents for my taste in music. My mom gave me The Monkees, The Beatles, The British Invasion, and Motown. My dad gave me The Rolling Stones, Simon and Garfunkel, The Doors, and The Moody Blues.

When I was younger, and we didn't get cable, and VCR's were around but not in many homes (we hadn't gotten one yet, plus in those early days, rental stores didn't have the selection like they have now), the chance to catch a movie on TV (especially when cable wasn't available in your area) was a gem. It's too bad kids nowadays don't know the joy of The Wizard Of Oz coming on once a year.

Anyway, once during one of the PBS Beg-A-Thon's, they showed one of mom's favorite movies. I saw the look on her face when flipping through the TV Guide. She yells back to me "Hey - come watch a good movie with me!". I was less than 10 years old, and that usually meant it would be something I didn't like. But I was bored, and trotted out to the living room.

The movie was "Help!".

Mom delighted as she explained every reference I didn't understand. She talked about how much she loved The Beatles when she was in high school. She swooned over Ringo like she was still 16. In her old bedroom at her mom and dad's house, you could still see the mark on the wall where her Beatles poster had hung. Her one brother - ever the troublemaker - had come into her room and blacked out the eyes of The Fab Four with purple paint (leftover from painting her room). Mom's family was poor, so instead of getting another one, she was left to deal with her purple-eyed idols. That one evening turned me into the Beatles fan I am today.

When they had their first real resurgence in the mid 80's (by the time I had gotten to high school), I remember the airings of The Beatles Cartoons on MTV. I had taped some when I could catch them. They were cute - not the best cartoons or animation, and the voices were done by others, but the sing-alongs were fun, and they have immense kitsch value.

Flash forward to today. I own tons of Beatles cd's and stuff, but the cartoons eluded me. I found out they had lapsed into public domain, and scouted around for treasure. I turned up a killer set that were done on professional equipment off broadcast masters. They were expensive, but they were SO worth it.

Nothing cures the blues from a 60 hour, 7 day workweek where you are doing work you did once before because your company is in the midst of a system conversion like a rousing sing along and pure Beatles cheesy goodness!

Enjoy!

(sorry for the poor sound - both the ones posted have bad sound - and incidentally, this is my favorite Beatles song)

And The Beat Goes On

2008-06-25T16:13:00.000-07:00

Rather than construct a long post reply, I've opted to make a new post in response to Nick, who is on the opposing side of the issue I mentioned yesterday. No yelling, no snark - just some intelligent commentary.

First thing's first. I know I'm older than Ben, and I'm 99.9999% sure I'm older than you - perhaps by a good bit. Yes, I have issue with Ben that goes beyone the Wikipedia incident. For I have, you see, what I call my Snark-O-Meter. It goes off when I am faced with things like smarminess, cockiness, smugness, and general condicending commentary. Ben's journal is rife with it.

I'm willing to play devil's advocate, and say that perhaps he doesn't realize that he comes across that way, but he does. And do a google search - plenty of people out there agree. Think that Javier is bad? Ever see the commentary that goes on over at Portal Of Evil's forums? Some of that stuff steps waaaay over the line, and makes even hardened BS slingers shudder in disgust.

So just because I need to say my piece, let me just cite some examples of what sets that meter off. This is good stuff - thousands of people have paid millions of dollars for this stuff:

1) The Protesting: I believe in protesting. It's at the core of our foundation as a country, and it's his right to do so. However, I do not listen to anyone who protests anonymously, or dresses up in silly costumes. I protested in my day, against all the things I believed in at the time: no nukes, animal testing and cruelty, Free Nelson Mandela, a woman's right to choose, make Martin Luther King Jr's birthday a national holiday, etc. I never dressed up in a silly costume. I never put on a mask, or hid my face. I never felt the need to learn tactics to fight or evade police - I was prepared to be arrested if need be, but I never fought with anyone or vandalized anything to get my point across, and I'm not saying Ben did, but those he hangs out with have, and in the real world, being there makes you a party to it. Speaking of which, be careful who you align yourself with in that regard. I was once a part of PETA and Greenpeace. When I would say that, people would just roll their eyes and no listen to anything I had to say because both groups take things too far in getting their point across. I have not given up my activism, but I align myself with more reputable groups. People will listen if you are aligned with people who present a rational and reasonable argument. For a good example of a fantastic blog written by a friend who works for improving her part of the country, I encourage you to read http://www.liprapslament-theline.blogspot.com. She's intelligent, and passionate, and heaven help anyone who gets in her way when she's rolling. Lastly, educate people about what you are fighting against. I don't think Ben has educated me at all as to why he feels the way he does on any of his protests. Instead, I get the impression that he thinks that any protest is a good protest, and that he often "tags along" without knowing all the facts.

So to recap:

I went to the protest wearing my silly mask be cause so and so did = Snark Alert
I went to protest against third world debt because it holds developing countries in involuntary servitude = I may or may not agree, but I will not Snark

2) Lappy, Compy, Big Mavica, et al: I just can't take anyone seriously who has pet names for inanimate objects, and I don't know anyone over the age of 17 that does. If he wants to write about it, fine, but don't be shocked if people over the age of 12 think it's silly, and say so.

So to recap:

I got out Big Mavica and uploaded the pictures to Lappy = Major Snark Alert

3) Unnecessary Commentary: let's start with the Hummer thing. For the record, I dislike Hummers too. Unless you're in the military, there's no reason that any private person needs to own one. However, I would NEVER say that because I didn't like it I was going to "run it off the road". Was that necessary? No. When speaking about a security guard in a news item he saw, Ben said "When questioned, he can't even cite what he's enforcing. Idiot. I hope his family is ashamed of him." Again, was that really necessary? No. The one where he makes the assumption about his sister's roommate's boyfriend when he'd only made one statement to him? Not necessary either. I find that before I hit the post button, I do better to re-read, and ask myself if some comments are really necessary to get my point across. If they're not, then they're gone.

So to recap:

Any of the above comments = the Snark is being written
I really hate Hummers - they're unnecessary for the average person = I agree
Get a load of the security guard - he's not well versed on regulations = He sure isn't
I met my sister's roomate's boyfriend - first impression wasn't much, and I hope the next meeting proves me wrong = That's happened to me too

4) Lack Of Respect: I blame some of this on the generation gap. To start, it ABSOLUTELY is disrespectful to mock the Iwo Jima landing. Good men gave up their lives so Ben and his friends can have the freedom run around and play like that. But just because they can, doesn't mean they should. I'd also bet that anyone who thought that was funny doesn't have any veterans in their family or close to them. The thing I found most insulting about that photo was that they were holding up their protest-du-jour flag in place of the American flag. Right there, they have cheapened the memory of the brave men that were honored in what they were mocking, and that's wrong. The same goes with showing the "road to hell is paved by Republicans" thing. You have an absolute right to your opinion in politics, as I have mine. I rarely discuss politics because it always gets ugly, no matter who is involved. I never said I thought Bush was a great man or doing a great job, but I don't need Ben essentially telling me I'm a moron for my beliefs, because they don't match his. That's incredibly disrespectful, and will cause my eyes to glaze over and stop comprehending anything afterward, thereby negating your position.

So to recap:

Republicans paved the road to hell = Get Bent 2: The Wrath Of Snark
I dislike Republicans because I disagree with...... = That's ok; I disagree with Democrats because........

And lastly,

5) The Double Standard: Ben deletes the Fail video because he doesn't like it or doesn't agree, but then it's brought up that the fail video was lame because it only says Fail and nothing else. If I were to post a video (although I never would becaue pimping yourself on Youtube is something I don't believe in), and someone posted the Fail video, I wouldn't delete it. I would challenge the person to tell me why. If they did, I'd suck it up because I put myself out there for everyone to see, and criticize. If they couldn't, then I'd fire back with a Fail video of my own. No double standard there. However getting rid of it, then taunting the person because they didn't say anything other than Fail is pretty much chucking rocks at glass houses.

No recap necessary here.

And as for the Wikipedia issue:

It's a non-issue at this point, and something I don't want to dredge up again, and before you say that we're being unreasonable by refusing to discuss it while you're trying to rectify it, let me explain as much as I am willing to.

As I said, I was part of a project. It involved a number of people. That project has been permanently killed. It's dead, gone, and not coming back. The website we had is gone, and the domain has lapsed, and is available for anyone that wants it. The forum we had where we dicussed our findings went with the domain. Any e-mails, etc, were done through accounts on that domain, and so they too are gone. The group has disbanded, and anything having to do with it would go back to the "owner" of the project, and I am no longer on speaking terms with him. Furthermore, I have no desire or need to be. By working on the project, I gave him permission to use my research, so should he want to pursue the project further it in the future, that is up to him.

So I will issue a personal thank you for the desire to rectify the situation (even years after the fact), because you at least were willing to try when others rebuffed us....repeatedly. The Wikipedia deal started the fire, but it's not what is keeping it burning. See the above noted items for the reason it keeps going all over the internet (not just at Javier's place).

And lastly, despite being Snark-Master-Extrordinare and a Habitual Line Stepper (:D), Javier is a great person. He's one of the best friends I have, and I'm better for knowing him. He's always eager to lend a hand or a shoulder, and has given me more pep talks and "get-a-grip" speeches than people I've known for 3 times as long. My husband says he's glad that I have him around and appreciates his friendship. But he, like me, is fiercely protective of his friends and family, and will fight when needed.

So that's my position, and like Forest Gump, that's all I have to say about that. I don't wish to debate this set of issues any further, and will not. Getting into a pissing match isn't what I want to do.

That being said, you're always more than welcome here, and intelligent commentary is always welcome on topics I bring up.

The Problem With The World Today

2008-06-24T17:49:00.000-07:00

Everyone thinks they are the most special person in the world. Sorry to break it to you, but you aren't. That's just the way it is. I don't think that way. I don't know many people my age who do.

So where is this coming from? A friend of mine is being attacked, and since I've fought for him, and the attackers are among the above mentioned group, I have a feeling they may come looking for me through my comments.

So since they don't like Javier's way of explaining things, maybe they'll listen to mine, and maybe it will finally sink in.

A number of years back, I was part of a project that had a website attached, where we would post our research for those interested in the topic. After awhile, we noticed that whole verbatim bits of our research were ending up on Wikipedia, without credit being given to any of us who did the research. We promptly contacted Wikipedia (and a number of subsequent times as well). Each time, we had someone spout out Wikipedia-speak at us, and essentially nothing was done. And our work continued to be copied (without credit) each time we updated. Some of our pictures were stolen too. We finally resorted to watermarking images and stating clearly that we did not support Creative Commons. It didn't work.

We finally traced back where this was coming from, and as usual, we were rebuffed. Only after a strongly worded letter from the person heading our project were we finally granted any type of credit, and it was just a link to our site, and a "see also". We were never credited for our work, as in "Info Courtesy Of".

We discovered that the person responsible for all or part of our issue had his own heavily advertised website. He started it when he was younger. I imagine it was cute then. Problem is, he's grown up now, but his website is still filled with the mundane details of his day to day existence.

Normally, we'd take a few pot-shots and let it go at that, but we discovered that this person liked to take lots of pot-shots of his own. He liked to pick at people he encountered during his day to day travels just because they didn't behave like he felt they should. He liked to fiercely pick at anyone who didn't follow his political views. He breaks laws and says it's ok, but then criticizes others for breaking laws. And my friend felt he was rife for send-up, so he started picking at his journal entries, and eventually moved it to a blog.

Before anyone says anything, Javier is protected by Falwell vs. Hustler Magazine. It states, in short, that public figures are subject to "ridicule" and such speech is protected by the first amendment. Do I think that sometimes Javier is harsher or more graphic than he needs to be? Yes. But does he often hit the nail on the head? Absolutely.

When I do post here, I fully understand that someone could take it and make fun of it. It happens, and I wouldn't scream about it. I can dish it, and I can take it. Problem is, the other person in question can't. He sends his friends to attack Javier, but you can't underestimate Javier. He's a fighter, and if you corner him, he'll come out swinging.

So if I ever post pictures of my refrigerator, or discuss oozing body sores, please smack me out of it. That's stuff that no one needs to know about - at least in my opinion. In other people's world, it's fair game.

So is it childish? Sure. But was stealing from us worse? I think so. I don't appreciate having my intellectual property stolen. If you steal my stereo, I can replace it, but stealing my intellectualy property and hard-worked research was just wrong. Not giving me credit was worse.

I'm not getting into what was stolen. The project is kaput. The website we had is gone. It seems no one is interested in what we were working on anymore, so it will die, but until this person stops flinging insults at someone just because of the car they drive, you can bet that someone will be flinging it back at him.

Just my two cents. And because I put it here, feel free to critique. It's your right to do so because it was my right to say it.

I HEART Warranty Direct!!!

2008-05-15T19:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not much one for advertsing people's stuff on here, but I gotta sing some praises here.

I've been sucked in many times by extended warranties for various stuff. I have wasted so much money for extra protection on telephones, dvd players, stereos, etc. I'm a sucker for the sales pitch. While I rarely ever need one (in fact, I've never cashed one in to date) and they generally run out of time, never used, the one time I didn't buy one on a dvd/vcr combo, I needed it. Then I bought a replacement (sans warranty), and it died again (different brand). I finally bought a refurb from Overstock.com (their service contracts are dirt cheap - and I bought one) and I have had no problems with it. But the time I didn't buy one, I could have used it, so I'll continue to be a sucker for them unless they're incredibly outrageous.

There are times that they are warrented - like a computer. Ok - I fibbed. Every tower computer I have ever owned has gone back at least once under the service contract, and the laptop has gone back once, but that's it. Anyway, I bought an auto warranty for the first time with my Neon. I generally don't like long-term auto financing (too much stuff goes wrong during the duration of the loan), but I had to finance it for 4 years, so I opted for 3 years, 36,000 miles. The Neon's were notorious for engine troubles. I only ever had one problem that might have been covered, but they wouldn't cover it. And the Neon is still going strong, despite being largely devoid of paint.

So re-wind to last March, when I bought the KIA. KIA offers fantastic warranties, but not if you buy used. I got 12 months or 10,000 miles. That ran out in November, when I hit the cap on miles. We had declined the warranty that the dealer offered us. It would have added too much to my payment. I was firm in that I didn't want to finance for more than 3 years, and I wanted a payment of less than $200/month. When we divided out the cost per month, they were asking a lot for the warranty they were offering. It just wasn't worth it.

During the time that we had a warranty, the car was in the shop for a loose heat shield (it made a rattling noise - we didn't know why), a malfunctioning panic alarm that fired at will, and some transmission noise (which turned out to be nothing). While these were minor problems and I didn't consider any of it adding up to a lemon, I slightly regretted not getting the extended warranty. That, and unlike the Neon, the KIA isn't something that Nelson, or any of his mechanic friends, can easily work on.

In December, anticipating some nice overtime and a generous bonus, I began to shop for extended warranties. Most looked shady at best. That's when I found Warranty Direct. They came highly recommended by many auto makers who do not offer extended warranies through their company (Lexus and Porche, to name a few), and I could find only two complaints online after exhaustive searches (and the complaints I did find were unreasonable). My salesman - John Crumbliss - was fantastic, and answered every tiny annoying question I had. They require a car inspection (something I actually thought was a great idea), but they will deduct the car inspection fee off the cost of the policy. The policy covers almost everything (sans paint, tires, mufflers, stereos, window glass/windshields, brake pads and similar things like that), goes for 37 months or 37,000 miles which will more than cover my financing, and takes the car to almost 100,000 miles. Considering the travelling we do, it seemed like a good idea. It offers rental cars, and great travel interruption service. And your card will get you discounts on things the warranty doesn't cover. Total cost of the contract: around $1700. I put a nice chunk down, and pay the balance in monthly increments through December.

I have the KIA in the shop for it's 60,000 mile maintenance. It's actually at almost 65,000 miles, but the shop neglected to tell me it was due (and noted my service records that they neglected to do so). Thank heaven for the stimulus check, as half of it went for this expensive service. It's not expensive in the context of what they do to the car, but I don't randomly have $600 laying around.

Long story short (I know, TOO LATE), I got a call telling me that they noticed my water pump was "going bad". It's beginning to leak slowly. Parts wise it wasn't bad, but involved tearing a big chunk of the engine compartment down (so does the 60,000 mile maintenance, albeit a different part, hence the cost), so I knew labor would kill me. I got nervous for a mintue (figuring I could kiss the rest of my stimulus goodbye, which had been earmarked for vacation), then I realized that I had a warranty, and looked up online whether it was covered via Warranty Direct's website, and then gave him my contract number, and their phone number. He balked at dealing with a 3rd party company, but I assured him that they pay via credit card at time of service, so he relented.

On a whim, I explored their site about 10 minutes later (something I hadn't really done), and I noticed my claim listed - approved and everything. They're paying almost $500 after my $100 deductible ($0 deductible plans are availble, but they cost more). I'm SO glad that I had this done now. I'd have been in a world of hurt if the car crapped out while on vacation. Granted, I do have great trip insurance with my policy, but it still would have been a real issue.

So yay for Warranty Direct! It's already paid for 1 years worth of it's contract in one fell swoop. They get the Funky-Rat Seal Of Approval! **

**void where prohibited by law

Ebay Is Not For The Faint Of Heart........But It Is For The Opportunist

2008-05-08T21:49:00.001-07:00

We had money put back for the upcoming trip, and we'll be good to go in that respect, but with the rising gas prices, we decided to see if we could raise a bit more. After scouring through 15 years of accumulated junk.....er......collectibles, we found that the only thing we have that is worth anything at all is......Nelson's World Wrestling Federation stuff. My friend Karen helped us sell 72 Hasbro Figures, Two Rings, and some accessories for a cool $260. The figures are going to their new home in Canada, to a collector who will hopefully take care of them as good as Nelson did. We have more things in the WWF world that we want to get rid of, but this was a good start.

Which brings me to the subject of ebay itself. I've never sold on there, so when an ebay drop-off opened up a few miles up the road, I decided to give it a shot. I sold an antique musical instrument a few years back (which I rescued from the dumpster at school) on consignment on ebay through the local music store, and so I figured that I knew what I was in for. I was wrong.

After being told to catalogue everything and much work, I was basically told by them that I needed to pay them an $80 non refundable listing fee, all the final value fees and Paypal fees, AND a flat 30% after all that was taken out. I politely declined, and called my friend Karen who knows how to sell on ebay. I took the photos and gave her the info, and she did the rest.

We set a reserve - the bottom line, won't accept any less price. She started the auction at $.99, and put it up for 10 days. And we waited. And waited. And watched. Watched auctions don't bid - or at least quickly.

By the end of the first weekend, it was up to $51. Several days went by, and I saw that it suddenly went to $150 - the reserve price. The next morning, it was back at $51 - the person who bid decided they didn't have the money, and retracted. CURSES!

By the last day, it had hopped back up to $150. At the beginning of the last hour, it was at $207. I decided not to check again until it was done, and it stopped at $260, plus shipping (not cheap - it's a lot of stuff and takes a big box). Fine by me.

So today, after a lot of e-mailing back and forth and setting additional shipping costs (as ours were only for the US), Karen called me tonight to tell me what we cleared after Paypal took their 3%. She said "You owe me for the listing fee - do you want me to deduct it from the proceeds?". I asked her how much. She said "Oh, it's $5.70". I said "HUH?!?!?" She double checked, and that is what it is.

So I understand that the guy up the road is running a business, and he needs to make some profit, but jeez! A whopping $80 just to list it?? That's massive profit (don't ask me for the percentage - I suck more massively at math)!! Totally unnecessary to charge that much, ON TOP OF the final value listing and Paypal fees, and BEFORE the 30% consignment charge.

He was a nice man, and I'm sure his wife was a nice lady, but I still can't get over the disparity. Even accounting for them to take the photos (I did well with 6, I think it was - maybe 8 at the most) it just doesn't add up. Plus, he runs a shipping business too, so he's making a healthy profit from the shipping. He even insinuated that my stuff wouldn't bring in much money. Well, I'm happy to clear what I did. It will pay for one of my hotels, freeing up some money for the ever-rising gas prices.

Ebay drop-off? I think I'll pass.......

Holy Hiatus, Batman

2008-05-08T21:19:00.000-07:00

Well, after minutes of scratching my head, I consulted the Metaverse Excuse-O-Mat , and I have an answer for my absence:

I oh gosh-- I guess I blew it and all. What I'm trying to say is, well, my apologies. You know, sorry-issimo. Is that enough?

So, yeah. Winter blahs, nasty colds running concurrently, a sudden busy spurt at work, a newfound appreciation for doing the Nautilus circuit - they all work. My week is packed: Monday is for groceries, Tuesday is for the gym, Wednesday is for Bible Study, Thursday is back at the gym, Friday is for chilling, Saturday is for working (at least for now), and Sunday is for napping.

Sometimes, I think about just walking away. Barely anyone reads this, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I'm a procrastinator, but not generally a quitter. Bible Study has taken a break for the summer, so I have at least one night free now. I need to make the time to do something besides complain on here.

I see my last post was about Nelson's dad's military records. We retrieved the records in February, but they weren't a whole lot of help. We've narrowed down his Parris Island graduation month, but not his platoon number, and no one can help us without it. We're still waiting for his medals and certifcates. I had some leads on the Parris Island thing, and I need to do some follow-up. I don't like to pest, but it's been 2 months, so I think I'm ok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Work is exhausting. We had a push earlier this year than usual, and it's left me hopping. My job is too much for one person, but not enough for two, and it's a lousy spot to be in. Most people are understanding, but every now and again (like today), I find myself in a borderline yelling match because people can't or won't understand how things work in my end of the world. After much heated exchange today, and general unrest, I settled an issue that arose. Turns out I was right all along. I'm not a gloater - I won't run around singing "I am so smart. I am so smart. SMRT. SMRT." So frustration abounds, but we're implementing a new computer system in July, and if it makes just a few aspects of what I do easier (which is the goal), then hopefully it will be worth it.

And I've got the big vacation on the horizon.

I'm SO looking forward to the 10 day whirlwind through several states that starts in Cleveland and ends in Pittsburgh with a stop in Tennessee for several days. Looking forward to seeing friends and dead malling (Cleveland), looking forward to a once-in-a-lifetime experience (Tennessee), and looking forward to visiting Nelson's last remaining non-estranged family (Pittsburgh). I also got us booked - finally - in for the House Of Blues Gospel Brunch. We missed out on it last year.

And that's just vacation #1. The second one comes later, when we return to Illinois to spend time with good friends. The internet keeps us in touch, but it's no substitute for sitting together in a restaurant, or cruising down the highway listening to Sirius Raw Dog, and then quoting it for the next few days.

Three weeks and counting until my first change of venue. But I'm not counting......

And Some Good News At Last!

2008-02-12T20:32:00.000-08:00

Last Summer, I had a post about government red tape in regards to obtaining Nelson's late dad's military records, replacement medals, etc. I never did receive anything I was asking for. I figured that I'd waited long enough, and set about trying to get help.

I asked my cousin, at Christmas dinner, who she recommended on the local level for assistance (she once worked at the state house for a local senator). She said no one, and suggested I go national. Fine idea, but I'm lukewarm on our Representitives and Senators. The ones I liked got voted out in the last election. There was one that I had met, I liked him, and I knew his office would have helped. Instead, I was left with the person who replaced him. I groaned as I went to his website. He really pushed the veteran assistance aspect on his site, so I figured I'd give it a go.

I was surprised to have a courteous reply quickly, and found his staff professional. They gave me instructions to fill the paperwork out differently this time, and they couriered it out for me. I received a nice letter from the Congressman (well, his staff, but still), and a copy of the letter taht was sent to the head of the department that stores the records we need.

Today, there was a message on the answering machine from his office, informing me that they have items for us, and asking us to come and get them.

So this is exciting! I'm hoping we got the replacement medals, the Cold War Recognition (seeing as his late dad served in Cuba during the missle crisis), and the records which show the necessary information to obtain a boot camp photo.

We're planning on going down to retrieve what we got on Thursday. So a big kudo to our Congressman. I'm not above giving credit where it is due - especially when I had little faith going in.

The Final Report Is In

2008-02-09T07:23:00.000-08:00

and it's as I feared.

The coroner announced today that Christopher Bowman had alcohol, prescription drugs, and a few illegal drugs in his system when he died. Of course, they're also blaming his weight on it, but I'm not so sure. He'd actually lost some weight in the last few years, and while he was nowhere near his top physical condtion, he wasn't 400 pounds either.

And of course, the yutz's who feel the need to make rude commentary on the articles are out in full force: "One less drug addict to worry about. Who's next?". Truly sad commentary on the current state of affairs.

It's a shame that Chris was such a tortured individual, and it's more of a shame that he'll be remembered more for this than his wide array of accomplishments and contributions to the world of Men's Competitive Figure Skating.

So in my small way, I'd like to try and keep his positive accomplishments alive. If you're a fan, you'll recognize both of these programs as some of his finest. If not, take a second to watch, and honor the memory of someone who left us way too soon.

As I scoured for this clip, someone left a comment - a stretch of lyrics from an old favorite song that I'm going to post here because I can't say it any better myself:

"You were there in the turnstiles with the wind at your heels
You stretched for the stars, and you know how it feels
To reach too high, too far, too soon...I saw the crescent
You saw the whole of the moon."
-The Waterboys, "The Whole of the Moon"

Rest in peace, Christopher. I truly hope you've found what you were looking for.

What Else Should I Be?

2008-02-04T18:38:00.000-08:00

Once again, the subject of a few previous "Deep Thoughts-esque" posts has managed to work their way back in my life. Why do I allow this person to torment me, months after I uttered my last words to them via e-mail (goodbye)? Darned if I know. Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment.

Or maybe someone is trying to tell me something.

Forgiveness has always been a toughie for me in certain situations. While I can generally shrug off many situations - especially ones that are out of someone else's control - there are other times where I just can't say "meh - it's ok", no matter how much I'd like to (and yes, I'd like to be able to do that now).

It's something that we've been trying to work on in counseling. I don't just have the aforementioned person to try and move out of my plane of annoyance, but several others as well. I'm moving ever so slowly there for some of the people, but not all (aforementioned person included).

Let me backpedal a tad: Before Nelson had his current job, he was trapped in a horrifyng job. No benefits, low pay, and a lot of unfulfilled promises. He muddled through for 3 years, and then left, only to be laid off and have to go back to work for them again (the job market here isn't great). Another 3 years, and he was fried. I don't know how he lasted as long as he did - I'd have gone to the booby hatch long before. The inevitable happened, and it all came to a head one day. He said something that was taken the wrong way by his ultra-wannabe Christian bosses, and it went downhill from there. There were witnesses - the situation got blown way out of proportion, because believe me - I don't dig him out of messes. If he screws up, he needs to accept responsibility and fix it, but there were major extenuating circumstances in this case that it would take me way too long to get in to here.

These are the same ultra-wannabe Christian people who shunned medical science and said that my husband would be better if he just gave himself to Jesus. Don't get me started....... Well, we asked our minister to accompany Nelson down there to try and appeal to her good Christian side. She said it would be ok. We decided he should return while he looked for another job, and then take his leave (but we didn't tell her this). One week later, she claimed she never said that, and that she had terminated him. When I questioned our minister (because I wasn't there), he said that she was out and out lying, and that God knew the truth, and she'd answer in the end.

It all worked out. He was working again within two weeks, at a much better job where he is treated better, and receives good pay and benefits. After he left, she terminated another person with a medical problem, and he decided to sue - and won. So she got hers. But I continued to just loathe her. I can't stand a liar. I can't stand wanna-be Christians. I can't stand people who promise the moon but deliver squat. I refused to speak to her if I saw her, and made my share of unfriendly comments.

Anywho, we went out to eat tonight at a local steakhouse, and guess who waddled in the door? I couldn't believe it. We both groaned. She saw me, because we made eye contact, and she looked away. After awhile, Nelson said "Are they at the salad bar?". I said they weren't, and he could make a break for it. He said "No, I want to know where they are", and he walked off. He came back with a big grin on his face.

He said "I decided that I can be the bigger person and show them some of that forgiveness that Pastor Jim is always talking about". He's much better off now. He should actually be thanking them. The mood lifted a bit, and he was in better spirits.

So I'm back to the person at the top of the post. I'd love to be able to just say "Thanks to you, I've made some good friends, even if everything else sucked." But I can't. I just can't. I don't want someone to come crawling to me and say "I'm SO SORRY for every wrong I committed against you, and I beg your ultimate forgiveness!". Nelson wouldn't have gotten that from his bosses even if he would have wanted it.

A few weeks back, the aforementioned person contacted one of us that he "wronged", and said he was sorry. That person, in return, forgave him, but did vent about a few things that he felt the offender needed to work on, including apologizing to me and another person. The other person got an apology - I did not. I relayed this information, and was told that no one was surprised. Then, to top it off, the other person involved (who did get an apology) posted some current pictures for people to see, and one included the offending person. As stupid as it may sound, I was not prepared to "see" them, and in combination with some other things going on, I spent an hour in a weird emotional limbo bouncing between anger and sadness. A big thank-you to a friend who allowed me to vent, and put it somewhat to rest.

I just couldn't understand how that person could go and spend free time hanging out with someone who treated us so badly. Who stomped on us and ignored our queries as to what was going on. Who denied any involvement in the stuff that was going on. I guess the answer is that in some respects, they are better than I am. I'm too analytical. All I can "see" is that things would be ok for a time, then they'd go right back to where they were, and we'd all be in the same boat - well, I wouldn't because apparently I'm not worthy of any attempt to rectify the situation. I will run the possible scenarios over again and again in a zillion different configurations in my head, and none turn out well. I want to scream "WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT NO GOOD WILL COME OF THIS?!?!" or "HOW QUICKLY YOU FORGET! JUST 6 MONTHS AGO THIS PERSON WAS STOMPING ALL OVER YOU!", but I don't. Just because I can't be the bigger person and get over it doesn't mean that others need to join my occasional self-imposed doldrums. The fact that I can't truly get over it is my problem, and mine alone.

So on the way home, with my husband in a good mood in the passenger seat because he managed to find that place where he can say "screw it", this came on the radio, and while I really never cared for this group, it was appropriate, and grabbed me:

What else should I be?
All apologies.
What else could I say?
......(verse deleted)
What else could I write?
I don't have the right.
What else should I be?
All apologies.

I wish I was like you;
Easily amused.
Find my nest of salt;
Everything is my fault.
I'll take all the blame.

All in all is all we are.

Again, maybe somebody is trying to tell me something. Would an apology really make any difference? Probably not. Do I truly need to hear it to put this one to bed? Probably not. Am I over it? Probably not. Am I getting there? Probably.

All in all is all we are, indeed.

Life Happens

2008-02-04T18:18:00.000-08:00

Yes indeedy do.

I had some stuff, but it seems to have worked itself out, so I really need to put some effort in to this blog again. I miss writing here, but it's been hard to concentrate with a zillion things that needed attention.

That, and I don't like to put forth massive negativity. I killed a blog that I had before this one by constantly venting about things. I may open it back up as my vent blog, where I can rant away, but for now, I'm trying to keep that to a minimum.

That being said, I thought about which topic I wanted to tackle first, and I sort of had my mind made up for me, and while not necessarily a rant or vent, it's just something I feel the need to get out. On the plus side, that fact that I had to think about what to discuss first is a plus. Perhaps I'll have enough material to keep me going for a little while.

Stay tuned.

I'm Really Beginning To Hate The Internet

2008-01-11T06:54:00.000-08:00

I saw a blip on MSN this morning that grabbed my attention.

One of my favorites from back in the days that I was HEAVILY in to figure skating has passed on.

Christopher Bowman (affectionately called "Bowman The Showman" by his fans and colleagues) was an immensely talented person, but he lead a troubled existence, and was destined to crash. Figure Skating is a tough life to be in and retain your sanity. Many skaters end up involved in drugs or worse, and a number have taken their own lives. It's akin to being a child star (as Christoper was when he was small) - the constant strive for approval, and then when you reach a certain age, the public has moved on to the next big thing.

I found the article fairly well written. I wish they would have left off the "suspected overdose" parts and the dredging up of all his past misdeeds until they know for sure what happened, but that's the way it goes in these types of things.

What sickened me, however, is the commentary left by people below the article. It runs the gamut for predictable - "Who cares about figure skating?" "As much fun as watching paint dry.", to the disgusting - commentary about his sexual orientation in the comment that they were shocked he had a daughter (because all male skaters are ****), to the outlandish - people using this as a platform to pull the race card and other inappropriate stuff.

Like skating or not, Christopher Bowman was a real person. He had family - his mother was a fixture on TV when he was skating. He was married at one time, and does have a daughter. He was a coach, and has students. He had friends. Imagine being close to someone, and finding out they died by seeing a blip on the Internet. Then imagine scrolling to the bottom of the article and seeing the disgusting commentary down there.

No one thinks before they post anymore, and the anonymity of the Internet lets the true sickos display their anger and hatred for all the world to see. While I'm grateful for the Internet for making my life easier, and allowing me to make friends I would have never been able to make otherwise, I hate it for what it has become - a sounding board for the idiots of the world. Almost makes me wish for the days when I would have heard about this on the news, and would have been able to say a prayer for Christopher, and then move on. Now, I'll forever hear those hateful comments in my head when I think of him.

Sad indeed.

Yikes! I've been away for a while!

2007-12-15T22:55:00.000-08:00

I knew it had been a while, but not two months! I have many excuses - feel free to pick one:

In my defense, it has been a bit busy. We got a late surge at work for one department, and that kept me busy through early November, when it eased off.

We went to Virginia to visit a friend in early November. We had a good time. We got to see a mall with fantastic 80's architecture and design elements. We stopped at a fantastic candy store (I'm such a little kid in a place like that - plus, they had jumbo Gummi Coke Bottles!) run by an older gentleman who was super-friendly. We had dinner at Don Shula's to celebrate our 13th Anniversary, where I put down the most money I ever have on a meal (don't ask). Nelson finished the "Shula Cut", and he got his name on their website, on a plaque in the lobby, a real autographed picture of Don Shula, and a few weeks later, a letter from Dave Shula. Makes up for it a bit. The steak I had was the best steak I've ever eaten in my life. I also got to go to Tyson's 1, which made me very very happy.

We got the pendulum for the clock, and quickly found out that the clock did not work. We dropped it off with a repairman. It cost $135, but it's hanging on the wall, ticking away (and keeping me awake at night). Plus, the original pendulum turned up, which was a good thing.

With Hanukkah being early this year, our holiday sale kicked in gear earlier than usual this fall. We have had a good season, so far. With next year being an Olympic year, I have a feeling we'll be very busy next fall. We were the last Olympic year. Insanely busy. Nelson came in to help work, and we'd work until Midnight some nights. Exhausting, but it made for a nice paycheck.

Thanksgiving was nice. When we got out of the car at my Aunt's house, the girls were in the picture window, waving at us (they're so darn cute!). We had a nice dinner, and fun with the girls (who again got goodies from us). Then over the weekend, we had to send the laptop back (it died - which has contributed to my absence - I can't get motivated to work in the spare room anymore - I'm spoiled), and then we accompanied a friend on a double/blind date. It was a nephew of my mom's friend. They were convinced they'd get along famously. They were wrong. He was a nice guy, but the two couldn't have been farther apart in terms of interests. It's a shame, because he was smitten with her, but when there's no connection, there's not much point. Plus, then I feel bad because I nudged for this (I hadn't met the guy previously).

We've returned to church, which is a good thing. I missed going. It gives me the ability to try and let go of the junk that happens during the week. Pastor Jim is a fantastic speaker, and has a knack to reach you when you least expect it.

We had lunch with Grammy at the "facility" (they don't like the term "nursing home"). It was less than what we'd pay in a restaurant, the meal was good, and it made me happy to see that she gets fed well. She was good that day. She repeated herself a lot, but she was in good spirits.

I've been putting in 11 hour days most days recently, and half days on Saturday. Today was the lone exception, and I'm a bit embarrassed to say that I did absolutely nothing. In my "spare" time, we've been getting our Christmas shopping done. We're not doing much for Christmas this year. We've decided to pool our money and purchase an extended warranty for the Kia. I did my homework when we bought it, but I didn't realize how much electronic stuff was in there, which gets costly. It will extend my warranty until after my loan is paid, which is what I want.

I set foot in Grammy's house for what will most likely be the last time. It's been sold. They got a nice amount for it, and her care will be covered for a long time. It seemed so strange. The house was empty. The furniture all gone. The only thing left in the kitchen was the stove and the cabinets. I've never ever seen it empty. Nothing on the walls. The heat was off and it was cold. There were a few things left for a charity store to pick-up, and a box of things for my uncle that we'll have to store until he can return from Oklahoma to retrieve them. Yet Grammy thinks she'll still be going home soon. No, we're not going to tell her........

But the laptop is back now, and hopefully so will I.

"I Feel The Moments Hurry On.....

2007-10-14T14:05:00.000-07:00

What was today has died away and now it is forever gone" - Early Morning Blues And Greens (The Monkees)

Birthdays don't usually depress me. Another year gone? Meh......

As I have done in the past (more so when I was younger), I shared my birthday with Grammy. Her birthday was on Monday. She was 87. My cousins were up with the two great-grand kids that live within a reasonable distance (Northern Virginia). Sadly, the others live in Oklahoma - all 9 of them (I think that was the last count - maybe 8). I don't get to see the girls as often as I'd like to (they are still little, and not to the point where they remember me when I see them), and I made sure they both got a nice goodie bag from us. Fun to spoil them, then send them home with mom and dad (insert evil smiley).

I wasn't thrilled about trying to spend the day at a local restaurant that is incredibly popular, but a tad overpriced and overrated in my book. However, Grammy loves to eat there, so it's the destination when we're taking her out. On the way up, I even told Nelson I wasn't sure that this was the best way to spend my birthday, in theory, but I was happy to see the girls, and I wasn't sure whether this would be the last birthday we had with Grammy. Nelson said he doubted it (Grammy is in great physical health - it's her mind that is going) but I corrected myself to say that it would likely be the last birthday we had that she would know a little what was going on. He agreed. She's just fading so fast that it's frightening.

When we got to the restaurant, my Aunt called me over, and told me that she found a ceramic canister that I gave Grammy for Christmas about 3 years ago. It still had the candy inside it. She just put it in the closet, and forgot about it. It made us realize that this went back longer and deeper than any of us even thought. Every weekend has been spent by members of my family up at her house, painting and making repairs, and cleaning/cataloging things. We've yet to find the pocket watch that Nelson gave Pappy for his 80th birthday. I don't want to ask Grammy - I doubt she'd even know, plus she thinks that she'll be going back to her house soon. We're not sue whether he might have been buried with it (Grammy handled all those arrangements). He so loved that watch. I gave everyone pictures of a watch that looked like it, and asked them to save it should they find it.

I picked up her washer, dryer, microwave, and refrigerator. I needed appliances, and my Uncle took $50 for all of it, which goes in Grammy's fund to pay for her assisted living. Most of them are almost new. Still, I felt guilty. The realtor said to take them - whoever buys the house will supply their own appliances. Last thing I did before leaving was remove the Cuckoo Clock I bought her and Pappy for their 50th anniversary, back in 1989. I bought it at Willy Neef's in Triburg, Germany and had it shipped back. Broke my heart to take it, but I didn't want anything to happen to it.

Of course, I get it home, hang it, and realize the pendulum is missing. It's not anywhere to be found, and I didn't check to see if it was even on there when we took it. It could have been missing already - I only checked for the pine cones. I ordered a replacement, and can't wait until I can fire it up -I hope it works.

Grammy didn't look real good today. She looked confused. Bit by bit, my mom and dad sneak things in to her apartment from her house. I don't know if that's doing it, or if the Alzheimer's is just progressing at a more rapid rate. I keep telling myself that she's better off where she is. After all, when I cleaned out her refrigerator (I tried to throw out as little as possible, and I kept the things that were still usable - she taught me well), I found 3 year old meat in her freezer. It's frightening to me that she might have tried to eat that. Did she do that and was that what made her sick that day that she fell and ended up in the hospital? The last day she would see her house, back in April? We'll never know. Where she is now, she's looked after, and she likes the people there, but she is waiting to go home. She's convinced that she hurt herself working (she even mentions the last job she had as being where she got hurt) and that she's waiting to be released to go back to work. It just kills me to hear her talk like that.

I whine about it. I say that it's just not fair. But I guess life isn't fair. I could stomach her passing by just going to sleep and not waking up. I hate myself for half wishing that Jesus would call her home to my Pappy and the still born son she had before she loses her mind completely. I'm selfish like that. I don't want to watch her deteriorate beyond recognition. That's more than I could handle. She deserves so much better than that. She tirelessly gave us all she had, and asked nothing in return. It just isn't right, and I struggle with my faith in that arena. I know that God wouldn't have her suffer needlessly, but I'm just not seeing his plan in all of this. I just see my Grammy fading away, and an empty shell taking her place.

I gave her gift to her. I bought her a wireless light switch. She can hook her lamp up to it, and take the switch to her bed, or anywhere in her apartment if she needs it. She just looked at the bag it was in, and didn't seem to know what to do with it. I could see her struggling, so I just said "You can open it later if you like". She said she'd do that, and then seemed ok. I didn't want to take her dignity by opening it for her. She apologized over and over for not having a card for me. I told her not to worry.

All in all, it was a good day. I got a great CD set. My cousins embarrassed me by having the restaurant bring me and Grammy each a small cake and singing. I just had a checkup, and I am in good health - better than I've been in years. My weight loss has started back up again. I just wish I had Grammy back. It's what I wished for when I blew out my candle, but I know it won't happen. I just figured it couldn't hurt.

"Are You Blogging?"

2007-09-23T21:01:00.000-07:00

I heard this last night, as I was typing away, replying to a PM left by a friend at a message board.

"Huh?", I said.
Nelson says "I said, are you blogging?".
Me: "Nope. Just replying to a PM."
Him: "A what?"
Me: "A private message, left for me by (insert name here - someone he knows)"
Him: "Oh. I wasn't sure."
Me: "That's ok. I should put something up, but I don't know what. Since you brought it up, any suggestions? What did you think I was blogging about?"
Him: "I thought maybe you were blogging about football." (as the game chugs on in the background)
Me: "I appreciate the suggestion, however I don't have much to say about football - but thanks for trying."

I don't much care for football. This was made worse by my tenure in the band in middle school, high school, and college. As a sport, it doesn't hold my interest. I rate it higher than golf, tennis, basketball, and baseball on the interest-o-meter, but not by much. It does, however, rate much higher than NASCAR.

I just really am not much in to sports as a whole. I do enjoy Ice Hockey - it manages to hold my interest. I also enjoy figure skating. When I myself was skating, I was much more in to it, but I haven't been hardcore in to it in years. I just haven't found anyone I can really get behind in the last few years. When the next Brian Boitano comes along, maybe I'll change my mind. I adore the Olympics, but probably more for the ideals they stand for. When they're on, nothing else is at my house. I have a good functioning knowledge of amateur wrestling, but I need to know that for my job. As an aside, I have very minimal knowledge on certain cheerleading and gymnastics regs for the same reason.

For all intents and purposes, I am a football widow. There was a time when he only watched NFL. He used to tell me "Hey, be glad I'm not in to college football". That, however, was just a matter of time. I didn't think Sundays would be too bad when we first met, because we can't get a whole lot farther away than the team he roots for, so there wouldn't be a lot of games to sit through, but that never mattered. We had to watch this game because it was important if they won or lost. Another game didn't matter in that respect, but we watch because it's football, and it's on. Now my Saturdays are tied up too. He roots for a team that is frequently on tv, so no dodge ther, and with the complex BCS rankings thingy, all games are important. When he's in full effect of football withdrawal, he goes to......Arena Football. No disrespect for people who enjoy it - please feel free to do so - but it makes me wish for regular football back.

I usually find something to do to keep my occupied while the games are on, and last night was no different. One thing we do enjoy together, however, is ranking on what should be loosely termed as "Color Commentator Teams". Our favorite target is John Madden. Words fail me to describe him. He's all circular talk, Telestrator play, and Brett Favre references. We both adore Frank Caliendo (You Tube him sometime) and his dead-on take on Madden ("Brett Favre could lose both arms and both legs and he'd still be the best torso in football!").

Anyway, the commentary team that was on the game we were watching (don't remember who - it was college - that's all I remember) is one that he particularly doesn't like. There are two people in the group that seem to be ok, but one who just has absolutely no clue, and he seems to speak the most. He made a lot of glaring errors, and strange comments. As I have my head buried in my laptop, working on another part of the PM chain that was going on last night, I hear something that should never EVER come up during a football game (or anywhere else at this point in time anymore):

Weird Dude: "Hey! What the heck is Britney doing?"
Normal Commentator: "Who?"
Weird Dude: "Britney! What in the heck is she doing anymore?"
Other Normal Commentator: "Britney who?"
Weird Dude: "Britney Spears, of course! What's the deal with her lately?"
Normal Commentator: "Why do we care?"

THANK YOU NORMAL COMMENTATOR! And apparently we weren't the only ones who thought that Saturday Night College Football wasn't the appropriate place to bring up Britney Spears, as they hurriedly cut to commercial, and then never mentioned it again.

And on another note.......

College Football is an animal all it's own, and one I don't think I'll ever fully get. I can understand why people get hyped up about their Alma Maters (GO YSU PENGUINS!!) but around here, Penn State is a religion, and I know very few people who have actually gone there. My cousin, a co-worker - that's all I can think of. They are fanatics, but I understand. The remainder of the people who live around here? Not so much.

We fly the Buckeye flag (two of them, in fact) in front of our house. We have our reasons. A lot of them have to do with the fact that we are fans of their coach (going back to his YSU days - I've met Jim Tressel, and he's a great guy). Apparently, that's not cool around here. Apparently there's an 11th Commandment that states "Thou Shalt Root For Penn State" that I'm not aware of. The topic has been brought up in church. We've had people refuse to wait on us in stores. I'm serious. People: there are more important things in this world. Seriously. Church is not the place to air a football rivalry. But that's enough of that.

Wow. I guess I managed, in my rambly and disjointed way, to actually blog about football.

This one is for you, honey.

I Never Thought I'd Find Myself Agreeing With Oprah

2007-09-14T10:47:00.000-07:00

But I think she has hit the nail on the head with this one:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20773318/

First off, let me say that I sympathize with both the Brown and Goldman families. My heart goes out to them. In a million years, I couldn't imagine what they are going through. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

That being said, my personal opinion is that the Goldman family needs to start healing. Holding in all this hate isn't doing them any good. Mr. Goldman has been quoted as saying that he hasn't slept since his son was murdered. I can understand that. I just can't understand how he can, in good conscience, release this book.

When I see Mr. Goldman decrying the publication of this book, and then choosing to publish it himself, calling it gratifying that he was able to "snatch it away" from OJ makes me look at him with a hypocritical eye. Why was it ok in one instance, then not ok in the next? Ye olde double standard strikes again.

I was a bit puzzled when Mr. Goldman was just so passionate about it not being published. Under the Son Of Sam laws (and OJ was convicted in civil court, so I would think that would count), he should have been able to funnel all of OJ's potential profit toward the $30+ million judgement that I'm sure he has come nowhere near fulfilling. Instead, he will pocket the profits. Not to defend OJ in the slightest, but will he put any of the profits toward satisfying that judgement? Share any with the Brown family, or Nicole's children? I doubt it.

Instead, it's just something else for Mr. Goldman to be angry about. I shook my head when he said he wanted to buy OJ's Heisman himself just so he could smash it. I shook it just as much when he bragged about snatching the book away from OJ. It's the same thing. The Brown family has been more cool and collected. They also decried the publication of the book, but they disagree vehemently with the Goldman family and their decision.

Sadly, there is nothing, I repeat NOTHING in the world that can bring these two people back. In my heart of hearts, I believe OJ did it, but that he had help - I just don't think he's smart enough to pull it off himself. I also think he was deserving of having that judgement levied against him. The Goldman family had an opportunity to have more put to that judgement, but they chose not to. If satisfying it would give them some type of closure, it won't happen in their lifetime - they'll see to that themselves that they can hold it over OJ's head until he dies.

Again, I'm NOT defending OJ in the slightest, but I'm just confused as to why rational human beings wouldn't want to try and end this so they could move forward with their lives. You won't sleep until you let go of some of this hate. I don't think your loved one would want you to be acting like this in his name. I could be wrong, but I know I wouldn't want it in my name.

Just Say No To Hotlinks

2007-09-12T11:20:00.000-07:00

Has this ever happened to anyone else? Or am I just a schlub?

I belong to a small, relatively private forum. We have a good time. A number of people were posting old local commercials. I went to youtube, looking for a number of oldies but goodies that I remember. I didn't manage to turn any up, but I did find one that I vividly remembered from my time in Northeast Ohio.

It was for a nursing home. The TV played it to death. It was constantly on. The woman who "narrated" the commercial looked somewhat like my roommate at the time. She walked through the commercial, very stiff and wooden, speaking slightly stilted, like she was reading a cue card. They talked about the luxury of their home, and how happy it was. The old people looked happy enough, but the whole thing was kind of laughable. On an off-note, this nursing home is still up and running - has been for a long time, and they get good marks from the state, so it's not "the crooked home from 60 Minutes" (ala The Simpsons), but perhaps you "had to be there" to find this commercial humorous.

Anyway, it was a reply to the post that got me to start digging. I wanted to see if they were still in business (hence I found the information mentioned above), and if I could find current pictures (no dice). It was then I saw a link to a report in the local newspaper, and thought I'd take a gander. I had misread the blip appearing on Google - I thought someone had walked away from the home, but it was different, and worse than that.

They told the story of an elderly man. His wife lived at the home. He came everyday for dinner, and then sat at her bedside. One day, she got sick, and they rushed her off to the local hospital. He followed in his car. He stayed at the hospital, and then left when visiting hours were over. His wife went back to the home, but he did not. He never returned. He never showed up for dinner at the home again. The article said the people at the home were concerned, and said that the last time he came in, he appeared a little confused. I began feverishly googling for this man. What became of him? Why did he just disappear? I found an obituary for a man with a similar name, but he died in another state. Then I found the follow-up article.

Turns out the man in the obituary was indeed the man I was looking for. His car was found down over the bank on a logging road TWO STATES AWAY. They think he got disoriented some time after he left the hospital, and ended up on this road that was like 250 miles from his home. They found him, deceased, outside his car. They think he was trying to find help. They believe he died from exposure to the cold. Just having had my grandmother diagnosed with Alzheimer's (who is in assisted living), it's an absolutely frightening thought, and I feel so sorry for his family.

But aside from the sadness, this is not the first time I started out doing a simple google search, and ended up off on a wild tangent, looking for something else, and in this case ending up bumming for the night, or more commonly up until 3am looking at the computer. I should just say no to hotlinks not directly pertaining to what I'm looking for. Will I learn any time soon? Nope. I've found some cool stuff just roaming around. This one, unfortunately, didn't have a happy ending.

"You'll Never Look At Music The Same Way Again"

2007-09-10T11:55:00.000-07:00

-Original MTV Teaser Line

I haven't watched the MTV Awards, in total or earnest, since 1988. Seriously. That's the last time that I cared about it. I briefly tuned in a few years back to see Duran Duran pick up a lifetime achievement award, and due to technical difficulties, it ended up being a real bust.

I taped the whole evening back in 1988 (still have the tape, too). It was a good evening. Started out with everyone's (well, mine at least) favorite game show, Remote Control. They had a contest, and the winner got to be on Remote Control, and then go to the VMA's afterward. They had a one-hour show where it showed this guy trying to get to the VMA's with Colin Quinn and Ken Ober (I think - it's been a long time).

Then they had the VMA's. The big winner was INXS, winning a lot of awards for "I Need You Tonight". I seem to remember Guns 'N Roses singing "Welcome To The Jungle". The VJ's (when they were still good) were out in full force. It was the typical, glamorous MTV evening. The tape wraps up with Adam Curry in the bathroom (the only quiet place in the building) to recap the winners by showing the videos that took awards. What's not to love? I was about a month shy of turning 15. It was sheer heaven for me.

Then it all started to change.

Remote Control was no longer as fun as it once was. Music started to change. By 1989, there was a surge of hair metal - something I never could stomach, and the roots of what would later become grunge were starting to take hold. Metallica was finding a strong presence for their dark music. Groups that I liked were slowly fading away, or weren't turning out videos like they once had. There was a change in VJ's. MTV also first made the initial turn to being largely scheduled programming, as opposed to showing videos. To quote a favorite movie, "I preminiced no return of the salad days". Gasp - I started watching more......VH-1! (shhh - don't tell)

The daily viewings of "Yo! MTV Raps" ceased in the summer of 1989. I would enjoy hip-hop for a few more years, but rap was beginning to drift from the Old Skool that I loved so much. I stopped watching Club MTV around the same time. It had grown stale. I started watching Headbanger's Ball in 1992, when I met Nelson. He had been with it from the beginning, when Adam Curry and Kevin Seal were hosting. Then Ricki Rachtman took over. We stuck with it until the bitter end, in 1995. By that time, it was sucking large. We groaned every time that Rob Zombie came on to paint the walls. Beavis and Butthead were canceled in 1997, and that ended my MTV watching days, until The Osbournes were picked -up, and then we watched only long enough to catch the episode. And so, I bid Adieu to MTV - a mere shell of it's former, glorious self.

I was a true MTV junkie. I couldn't wait to get it on when I got home from school. I was glued to each World Premiere. When we finally got cable, we were on a different system from the kids I went to school with, and thus I was the only one who got MTV. For a while, everyone was jealous.

So what brought back all this waxing nostalgic? Last night's train-wreck. I'd heard the awards were on, but had no interest in watching. I saw the clip on the MSN page about Britney Spears being nothing short of embarrassing, and it sparked a thread on a forum I belong to. I listed my reasons for disillusionment with MTV, and the current state of the music industry in general. That brought up an interesting MTV discussion with some good points by a good friend of mine:

I think a big part of the problem with the VMA's is what MTV started out as, and what it has become in the last 25 years.
MTV was "cool" when it started out, back before everything in the entertainment industry went completely corporate. If you were a new artist and MTV and played your video, chances are you were going to be huge. I may be remembering this incorrectly, but I'm pretty sure MTV essentially made Madonna. It was a network for the younger generation, irreverent and sort of anti-authoritarian. I think the VMA's started out the same way -- a hip, cool awards show that was everything the old, stodgy Grammy's weren't.
But over the years it seems like the VMA's have become another established corporate awards show -- just like the Grammy's. MTV is nothing more than a set of offices at CBS/Viacom, and instead of being run by people who love music and know what's "cool", it's being run by recent college graduates who are simply chasing ratings and ad revenue. Their idea of "programming" is trying to capitalize on whatever the 18-34 demographic thinks is cool.
So in reality, MTV sold it's soul to the almighty dollar a long time ago. And because of that, I would say that MTV is essentially irrelevant today -- just another cable channel that used to be about music but somewhere along the line decided that crappy reality shows starring Ashley Simpson get better ratings.
Not helping at all is the sorry state of the music industry, where there are very few legitimate "stars" or even people with any demonstrable talent. Just a bunch of bands and pop stars created and manufactured by record labels, many of whom don't stick around long enough for anyone to care about them. And even a lot of the big names are "stars" only because they're on TV a lot, or because the kids think
they're "cool" -- not because they have any actual talent.

Ok. I get it now. It took the above to hit me with a wake-up call. While MTV has changed their format (and not for the better), I have simply outgrown it. Like it or not, I'm no longer their target demographic. I have officially become middle aged. I guess it was bound to happen. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch some VH-1............

To All The People I've Run Into In The Last Few Days

2007-09-05T11:24:00.000-07:00

Thank you so much for trying to ruin my vacation! I say "try", because as hard as you pushed, we managed to push back harder and eventually get it evened out, but there was a lot of tense moments and complaining that did not need to happen. Let me preface this by saying that this does NOT apply to my friends and family - I have yet to see them fall in to this category. If you, however, see any of yourself in this, perhaps it's time for a heart-to-heart.

I'd first like to thank the parents of the two toddlers at the National Historical site - the ones with the heavy-duty anglo-saxon names. What a joy your kids were. For starters, I can't imagine why the thought that the kids would enjoy something like that ever seemed like a good idea. Their constant screaming and whining and throwing themselves down on the ground should have been the first red flag. Thanks so much for the entertainment of having to follow them around while they pitched a constant fit. How great it was to have them run around, being disruptive and destructive. And what fine role models you must be. The sign says "NO SMOKING"? Heck, that doesn't apply to you - just go for it. Let's forget for just a moment that you are surrounded by woodlands and highly combustible buildings hundreds of years old. Heck, I'd have respect for you as you threatened me and started counting (only to not do anything to back that up), cigarette hanging out of the corner of your mouth....... You owe me the cost of 3 admissions, plus something for aggrivation.

A follow-up kudo goes to the guy who took the toddler in to the high-cost gift shop, only to have the child accidentally destroy some stuff, and then take off without owning up to it - another fantastic role model. Why teach the kid to take responsibility for their actions? I'm not saying that the little one meant to do it - which just proves my point that perhaps taking them in there in the first place wasn't a good idea - but what a great opportunity to teach them that even if it is an accident, you have to make things right. Instead, you reinforced the notion that the current generation already runs rampant with that NOTHING is their fault. So let's instead blame the people who run the gift shop (in an effort to help fund the site) for putting out breakable things. How dare they?

My second big thanks goes to the parents of the "tween" at another place we stopped. How wise of you to buy your kid the sneakers that have those stupid little wheels in them. For starters, they're dangerous to the kids. Second, the kids use them at totally inappropriate times. It's no wonder that so many public places have banned them. I would be surprised if this place hadn't, but then again, following the rules is too much to ask for some people. Your kid thought it would be fun to wheel around (without being under your supervision) and when they ran into someone who was minding their own business, rather than just going on their way, they decided to make an issue out of it. Rather than just letting it drop or admitting they shouldn't have been doing what they were doing , they turned a simple reflex of putting a hand up to try and brace for an impact in to a "hit". Embarassed, the kid probably stomped off, found the parents, and fibbed that the person hit him, for attention or effect (the fact that they were tooling around on wheels in a busy public place tells me it's an attention thing). We were all kids. We've all done this. Problem is, my mom would not have believed me had I been making it up. She had that way of getting to the truth. Furthermore, she wouldn't have allowed me to get away with it without apologizing to the person I bumped into. She wouldn't have gotten into a screaming match with the person who was the innocent bystander in all of this. She wouldn't have lectured them. She wouldn't have continued screaming long after the other person walked away, not wanting to fan the flames further. I know the innocent party. They used to teach small children and they mentor abused children who were removed from their homes. They were an abused child themselves - they don't hit children. Perhaps you need to tell your kid the difference between right and wrong, and that lying is a bad thing that can get innocent people in trouble. In other words, TELL THE TRUTH. You owe me the cost of admission for 4 people, and the cost of 2 sets of cab fare for running out and back to this site, and big-time for having to watch your tirade.

A side thanks goes to all the reckless baby stroller operators out there. I'm sure your 3 month old baby woke up in the morning and begged you to take them to the museum, fair, etc. How fun for the kids to have to be shuttled around all day to things they can't comprehend. How great for them to be banged around all day when you continually push the stroller in to other people. I'm not saying you can't take the babies out, but how about something more age-appropriate? If you want to go, try a babysitter, and go by yourselves.

My last big thanks goes to the people who just can't resist showing off their vast knowledge in public - whether you want it or not. Thanks so much to the people who stood behind me at a display, telling me ahead of time what all was going to happen. I guess the fact that I hadn't seen it before didn't occur to you, or it did but you just didn't care. I also appreciate it when you take the time to tell me how you've seen this before, but it was someplace else, and it was much nicer. Not content with letting it drop after we asked you to stop telling us about it before we've seen it, you had to then go accost someone else in my party at another display and proceed to start all over again. I'd demand my admission back, but I'm already getting it from the lying tween, so I'll just take your promise to stop doing that - ever again.

I'm not anti-kid. Not at all. But I am anti-bad behavior, and there's so much of it out there, and not just from kids - you adults do your fair share too, and in all honesty, the kids just don't come into the world behaving badly. There was an excellent article on MSN once about how we're doing the current generation no service by holding them blameless or everything, but apparently, no one has read it. Also, apparently no one watches shows like "Shalom In The Home" where they show that kids want, need, and respect boundaries, and that they really want parents - not pals. That's been proven time and again - it's a shame no one listens.

I'm sure I'll get the usual hate mail. I've been told that since I don't have kids (the good lord did not bless me in that way), I'm not allowed an opinion where they are concerned, but that's crap. If I'm forced to have to spend time with them, then I'm allowed an opinion. Besides, as I've said before, the kids get the bad behavior from somewhere............

Brick Walls, Frustration, and Red Tape

2007-08-13T12:29:00.000-07:00

I'm trapped in Government limbo. It's a place that should be reserved for the most evil of society, but I'm doomed to stay here until who -knows-when. This all started back in April.

Nelson's step-dad (Ray) brought up some of Nelson's dad's (George) military records. His honorable discharge from the Marines, etc. It wasn't a whole lot to go by, but it gave us an interesting glimpse in to a part of George's life that by all accounts he really didn't speak much about.

We learned that he went in to the Marines when he was 18. We learned that he hadn't graduated High School (not uncommon in the early 60's), so the Marine Corps helped him get his diploma. He was a Private, First Class. He was a sharpshooter. He'd spent over one year in service abroad, although it didn't say where (we had been told Viet-Nam and Cuba by a number of people). When he was done with his service, he spent two years in the reserves. He received several medals and awards, including a good conduct medal and a sharpshooters medal. By all accounts, he loved to hunt and was an excellent hunter, so this would all make sense. Nice to tie up loose ends. As we were setting up the various pieces of the entertainment center, we put George's casket flag, a Marine bear, and a US flag on top of one of them. It looked very nice. Nelson said "I wonder if there would be any way that we could find one of dad's service pictures?". And so it began......

I contacted the Marine HQ in Washington DC. They were speedy, and very helpful. They directed me to the offices I could contact for one of his photos. Problem is, it all depended on where he went to boot camp. I replied to the Marines about that, and they said there was really no way to tell me where he went. Since he was inducted East of the Mississippi, it was most likely he ended up at Parris Island. OK, I'll start there. I tried calling the office repeatedly, but no one ever answered. I tried calling their family office, and they kept referring me to the VA. Well, the VA can't help because he's deceased. They offered me counseling, but I politely declined.

Finally, I reached someone at the photo office. She said yes, she could get me a photo, but it would be a Platoon photo. Fine with us - anything is better than nothing. She said that all she needed was a Platoon number. Brick wall. I had his DD214 (official separation document) but his boot camp platoon number is nowhere to be found. She said that recruits will send home a postcard with all their info on it. No earthly clue where that would be - he was in and out before he married my late mother-in-law.

She said that all photos are negatives stored in a huge facility by platoon number. She said that she could also really use the graduation date (we could narrow it down to a time frame of about 4 months) and a Drill Sergeant, but could do nothing at all without the platoon number. She directed me on how to contact the government for his records. It was a website. I was happy to see that. I trudged through all the paperwork, only to find out that you had to mail it in, and that likely what they would provide you with was a DD214, which I already have. I requested anything other than his DD214 or Honorable Discharge because I already had them - especially anything with his platoon number on it. But here's the kicker: if no one has that, how can we ever find him? He's been deceased for 25 years. There's nowhere to go if the Marines can't dig it up.

We also found, in our travels, that we can apply for replacements for all his medals/ribbons/commendations, etc. We also have no idea where any of this went. Again, it was off with the paperwork which has to be mailed to a different address. Couldn't be easy - heck no.
I did contact the recruiting office that he likely went through (or the closest one). They were nice, and tried to help, but a new recruit came through the door while I was speaking to him. I asked if it was OK if I faxed down the paperwork, and he said that would be fine. He never called back.

I found some people at Leatherneck Magazine who were very helpful. They'll be running an ad in their next magazine, and hopefully we can find someone who served with him. He was part of a large regiment. Hopefully there is someone out there who knew him.
Then, I found out that he's eligible for another commendation that he can receive posthumously. This one had a website to apply for it. Great! Then I found out the government took it down, and everything has to be done by......mail. The government moves at the speed of an injured snail. Who knows if we'll ever see any of this.

I tried contacting my congressmen. No dice. Their websites all say "for copies of military records, contact the national archives at.....". Yeah, I already did that. There's got to be a better way out there somewhere. You'd think that they'd be jumping at the chance to assist the family of a deceased veteran. Don't get me wrong - I've been receiving courteous replies everywhere I turn, but the system of red tape and uncertainty just stinks.

I think I'm going to keep looking for some assistance. Hopefully someone out there knows a better way to do this.

I'm Not Just A Member, I'm Also The President

2007-08-09T09:15:00.000-07:00

I try not to gripe too much on my blog. I sort of ruined my first blog by treating it as a place to rant and vent. Before too long, I lost the urge to continue to post to it because I saw it as so negative. There are times, however, when it's good to gripe, and this is one of them.

By now, anyone who wasn't involved in the fiasco that has happened in the last year and a half is probably going "oh no - not again". Unfortunately, it's one of those situations that unless you've been there, you won't really understand. Normally, I'd not even bother to post on that type of situation, but this is one of those things that you just feel the need to scream at the top of your lungs that you've been wronged, and the sheer magnitude of the bull that went on is unfathomable. There was a small group of us affected. We talk about it. We complain about it. We rant about it when some new crap is perpetuated. We try to get over it. Problem is, we can't.

It's not because we don't want to. It's not because we're living in the past. Rather, it's the other party involved that refuses to let it die.

Honestly, we'd all be happy to have moved on, aside from the occasional playful jab at the offending party, but it just keeps going on. Every time we try to distance ourselves, we get drug back in. The question we keep asking is that if they decided that they didn't want us around and we had to go, then why do they continue to use information and footage that we supplied to them? When one person got the boot, they were told via e-mail that their footage would be destroyed and not used. Ok - no problem. But it gets better. Not only does this person contiune to use their footage in clips that they create, but they continue to use clips created by the booted person. So much for destroying footage.

So rightly so, the booted person saw this, and fought back. He complained to the service showing the clips that the clip was his property, and that he was no longer affiliated with this group, and he would like his clip removed. They were great about it, and complied. Case closed. Or not......
Immediately, backlash ensued. I was told by jerk-of-the-century that he was being sued by the company that was airing the clip because he violated copyright regulations because of a song that appeared in the clip. Problem is, I know the truth. I was copied on the correspondance with the company showing the clip. The song in the video has no copyright - it's under creative commons, and as long as the artist got credit, there would be no problems. Rather than just let it slide, as no one would have likely even noticed it was gone, or even say the clip had been pulled for unknown reasons, they decided to launch a vicious campaign that was complete and total BS - 100%. Furthermore, I got drug in to it.

I was told that I needed to have the booted person contact him because he was named as a co-defendent in this (ficticious) lawsuit, and he could be liable for half of a ridiculous sum like $14,000. Little did he know that I knew that I knew he'd been attempting to contact the booted person consistantly since he booted him - not just since this issue. Also, he told me to tell booted person that he could have his work admired by tons of people if he'd let it be. What dippity-do-dah won't understand is that this was just a hobby for us - nothing we want to pursue as a full-time job, so the admiration of millions simply doesn't mean that much to us. Booted person, as I would, totally ignored all contact attempts. Why subject yourself to more needless grief? I forwarded the message to booted person, who decided it was finally time to fight back, and he sent him a fantastic scathing e-mail, calling his bluff on the whole thing. Needless to say, we never heard about it again.

We try to shoot down outright lies when we catch them, but what is even more unnerving than that, is the fact that once someone calls him on it, he immediately goes in to the Piss-And-Moan-About-Everything Club. As I said at the beginning, he isn't just a member - he's also the president. Boo hoo, poor me. No one understands me. No one likes me. Everyone is deserting me. No one supports what I do. The one that ticks me off the most, however, is when we get blamed for his lack of work. Nothing significant has been done on this project since LAST SUMMER. He can say all he wants that he's gotten so much done - show me the money! All I've been shown is a ever so slight blurb. Meanwhile, he keeps blaming the push back on the finalization date on work, problems with other companies, problems that we've caused, etc. Gripe, gripe, gripe. Don't do anything about it - just gripe away. And while you're at it, blame all your problems on us. After all, we're not around to defend ourselves. Have a pity party. Have it with all your friends (and I mean true friends, not just hanger-on's). I have a feeling you might be the only one there. Keep it up. You'll be completely alone sooner than you think if you keep playing these crappy kindergarten games.

I could be a jerk too. I could name names. I could mention specifics, like this person's websites, and call them on their bluff in terms of the promises he makes that he can't back up, and his complete line of bull. I could go on all day, but I won't. I refuse to sink to that level. One thing I will guarantee is this: what I say (unilke other people I could mention) is the truth. And I can back it up.

Now hopefully, this will all blow over......again. I'm hoping it stays that way, but I'm not holding my breath.

The Best "Mis"-laid Plans Of Morons And Men

2007-08-06T09:38:00.000-07:00

a/k/a If You Say You're Gonna Do It, Then DO IT!!

Something my parents tried to raise me to live by was that if you say you are going to do something, then do it. If you find out at some point that you can't, then be honest and tell someone. It's not fair if you have others relying on you to do something. I try my darnedest to do that. Honestly, sometimes things happen and someone gets left hanging, but that is few and far between. Few things irritate me more than waiting around on someone who never shows up, or similar.

I've always been fairly naive. It's something that I've been working on for most of my life. I'd been stomped on so many times by people who I thought were my friends that I've lost count. I'm fiercely loyal to my friends, so it is possible for a smooth talker to blindside me, and it has happened more often than I care to admit. Despite being fairly good at separating the genuine people from losers, every now and again, one sneaks through, which leaves me to shake my head in the aftermath.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not on a "poor me" kick (another thing that irritates me, but that's for another day). I try to learn from my mistakes. It may take me a while to catch on, but I will eventually. It is a shame, though, that this has happened so many times, because it can cause me to take a more critical look at someone who may be genuine. I'd love to be able to take everyone at face value, but that can work in reverse as well - I've met people that I wouldn't normally think to associate with because of their outward persona or what that is perceived to be by others, but they've turned out to be great people. It's just a tough spot to be in, and I guess that to get suckered occasionally is just part of life's ride.

This happened to me recently. I got suckered in by a smooth talker with big dreams. I blindly believed in this person. They could give me recognition on a national level for things I was helping them do, and that appealed to me. A chance to shove it in the face of people who said I'd never amount to anything. I should have gone with my gut, but I happily followed along. I bragged. I told people that I was going places. I should have kept my mouth shut.

I made a number of friends through this endeavour. Most of us were in the same boat. We believed what we were told my Mr. Smooth Talker. We all gave a lot, but increasingly were getting nothing (and occasionally unwarranted grief) for our efforts. People started to grumble. For the first time, someone told me that I shouldn't pin any hopes on this person because he can't follow through with anything. I ignored them, against my better judgement. I continued to brag. Smooth Talker promised me some major things, and I threw myself in to it lock, stock, and barrel. I ignored all the warning signs. I put myself and my good name out there for this person. I got stomped on. As predicted, they never followed through on anything, eventually abandoning the project without even having the decency to tell me. I found out by noticing it had been removed from a list of outstanding projects.

Even after Mr. Smooth Talker himself got run over by Ms. Smoother Talker (who continues to run him over, despite his being told by several of us that she wasn't what she appeared to be), I continued to just kid myself that it was stress (a favorite excuse of his) and that it would all smooth over. After he began believing lies about the friends I made (and I have proof that they're lies) and he began booting them one by one, I told myself this was just temporary.

Slowly, I began to realize that I was being squeezed out. It was obvious to everyone but me until the bitter end. He didn't have the guts to tell me - he just let Ms. Smooth Talker run roughshod all over everything I did. When I called him on it (and the treatment of some others), he told me he was unaware, but did nothing about it. That, in my opinion, is unacceptable, and was the final straw.

I realized that in my zeal, I tossed out one of my good points - my fierce loyalty to my friends. I remained silent while the gruesome twosome steamrolled over the friends that I made. I also realized these were good friends - as opposed to Dumb and Dumber - who were there when I had to go for surgery, when Nelson was diagnosed with Cancer, and any host of problems that came along. I'd get an occasional note from one of the other two, but a lot of it was "I don't know what to say for stuff like that - I'm not good with these situations". Again, I don't need someone holding my hand every step of the way, but when life hits you with something blind, it's nice to have people to lean on, or at least someone who listens. They don't have to have the answers. And I'm always more than happy to return that favor.

Taking out the trash was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Part of me still clung to the hope that this was a temporary setback, but I was just fooling myself. I wrote the letter. I asked a friend to read it for me. I sent it when I knew the recipient would not be at home.

Immediately after that, I deleted this person from my e-mail address book, and blocked their e-mail, and any e-mail coming from their url's. I removed them from all of my friend lists from any number of websites. I deleted all information from my computer that pertained to anything having to do with them. When the computer asked me if I'd like to take them to the trash can, I chuckled as I sent it there. I have absolutely no regrets for any of it - even the time I wasted chasing someone else's ill-conceived pipe dream. The small handful of friends I've made more than makes up for any bad stuff. It just feels good to get it out when something sucks me back in, like what's going on currently.

This person's grandiose dreams just keep getting bigger, and more ridiculous. Not just content to continue to ruin their name and reputation, they continue to drag the name and rep of others down with them. These new people, unaware that the Smooth Talkers have zero track record or completions under their belts, believe the hype and proudly announce their affiliation with various projects, none of which will likely ever see the light of day.

It doesn't just upset me - it upsets the others that got sucked in before me, only to be spit out. Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it except for vent when it comes up. It would be poor of us to say to these people "You know, I wouldn't hang my hat on anything they tell you, and we speak from experience", because we'd be no better than any of them and their games.

This is one thing, unfortunately, they'll have to learn on their own. And maybe, just maybe, something may someday get done. But even if it did, I want no part of it. The so-called reward is just not worth it.

I Keep Holding On To Yesterday

2007-08-02T09:09:00.000-07:00

It's in my blood. I can't help it, or myself. My name is Railyn. I am a packrat.

I place the blame solely on my late Grandma Rose. She grew up during the depression, in a poor Jewish family that fled Russia in the middle of the night during the Bolshevik Revolution. They landed in Philadelphia, and set up a new life for themselves.

I'm not getting down on Grandma Rose. Not at all. She was a great lady. She could do amazing things with little supplies or money. Think MacGyver, but as a 4'10" woman with a fiery attitude and a cigarette perpetually hanging out the side of her mouth. After she and Grandpa Bill passed, we were amazed at the things we dug out of her house. Tons of Sucrets boxes full of buttons, bra hooks and eyes, and snaps. Bags full of zippers. Tons of scraps of fabric that weren't large enough to do much of anything with. Her jewelry box was full of broken pieces, and uprooted stones. To most people, it looked like junk, but it was a way of life for her - a necessity for survival.

Every time clothing had passed it's usefulness, everything that could be harvested was removed: buttons, snaps, hooks and eyes, zippers...... They were saved, in case they might be needed again. The clothing itself was cut in to pieces, and used for any number of things, from rags to pillow stuffing. Same with jewelry that ended up broken. She might be able to use the stones from it again if one happened to fall out, or perhaps she could repair a broken pin with pieces from another. We initially shook our heads, but then gave her props for it. While it created a mountain of stuff to sort out and toss, she managed to save money wherever she could. In a throw-away society, she never wasted anything.

My mom picked up her habit. She didn't save bits of cloth or buttons, but she's got old outdated clothing, shoes and purses galore, and more boxes of books than most libraries. Being that her parents were antiques dealers later in life, she never threw out a bunch of knick-knacks, dishes, and other things because "they might be valuable". That's the bad habit that I then picked up.

I collect stuff. Problem is, I get gung ho on something, then tire of it. I married someone the same way. He picked that habit up from his mother. I try not to tap in to the latest fads, though, as she did. She had more Beanie Babies than I would ever know what to do with. They still sit in the largest tote that Rubbermaid has. Nelson's step-dad wanted to get rid of them, but collectively they're worth less than she paid for one of the more expensive ones.

I started collecting Star Wars when the movies were retooled and re released. I got weary of it quickly, and it sits in a box in the basement. I was on a View Master kick for a while. I've always loved them, but instead of just buying reels, I bought a Talking View Master that works well, but by design they sound like garbage. It's gathering dust in a closet. I got on a brief Rugrats kick - that stuff sits in the basement as well. Same with Lilo and Stitch. And the music group KISS. Tons of stuff sitting around gathering dust. And we won't even start on Nelson's collection of Matchbox Convoy trucks, or older WWF merchandise.

When Nelson's step-dad moved, he couldn't fit his 64" Sony Projection TV in the new house anywhere that it worked well. He asked us if we wanted it. Um, yeah! Then we looked at our house. The amount of crap was just unbelievable. We thought about just packaging it up and sending it downstairs, but that just makes more problems - the basement is very full......of junk we put down there.

We started going through boxes. It went like this:

"Um, why do we have this?"
"Well, I bought that for you when........."
"Ok. We'll keep it."
"Ok, why do we have this?"
"Remember, you liked {insert here} and your mom bought that for you......"
"Ok. We'll keep it."

Repeat as needed.

Several hours later, all we had done was shuffled things from one box to another. We tossed a few things, but nothing worth writing home about. We finally decided enough was enough. Several garbage bags and boxes later, we've cleared an amazing amount of room at the house. Total crap got thrown, things that someone else might want were set aside for a yard sale which will take place in about 2 weeks, and anything remotely valuable (WWF Stuff, Star Wars Stuff, etc) is being sent to the ebay Drop Off store. It was time to let a lot of stuff go, and put a period to a lot of partial collections.

I kept two things from the Star Wars end: an Ewok that belongs to Nelson, and my Chewbacca statue that is carrying C3PO on his back in pieces. The rest is gone - books, small figures, etc. I've kept all my View Master viewers and reels, but anything having to do with the Talking View Master is gone. Most of my KISS stuff is going. I'm keeping a few things, but the books (except for my KISSTORY book), action figures, patches, framed photos, posters, and stuff like that are going. Anything Rugrats is gone. Anything Lilo and Stitch, with the exception of my lithographs, is gone. All WWF stuff, with the exception of a few videos and dvd's, is gone. Matchbox Convoy Trucks and Over-The-Road Convoy Truck Stop: gone. It's quite liberating.

I'm retaining my Olympics collection, my Monkees collection, my New York Rangers collection, and my record collection. Nelson is keeping his Miami Dolphins and Dan Marino collections. I am not eliminating my vast sheep collection, but it is being pared down considerably. I am also thinning out my board games in terms of games we found weren't fun, or we don't play, or that I have duplicates of.

I'm shocked at how much extra room we have, even with a massive TV taking up a big chunk of our living room.

So people out there that have ever received a gift from me: you needn't hang on to it if you never use it, or have lost your enthusiasm for whatever it was. Please don't clutter your house on my account. You have my blessing to regift, yard sale, Goodwill, or ebay it. Chances are good, I may have done the same to you........

Everything Old Is New Again

2007-07-03T08:12:00.000-07:00

or so the old song says.

I've been watching this for some time now, slightly disappointed at the lengths that two grown people will go to over something like this. I generally shy away from the forums that MSN provides for their articles, as they usually just turn in to ugly insult-fests, but I couldn't let this one go.

I've attached a link to the article itself, and then my reply (so no one has to wade through the 15 pages of replies.....):

http://tv.msn.com/tv/article.aspx?news=267163&GT1=7703

As has been stated many times over, there is no such thing as new comedy. Comedy borrows heavily on real life, and since illegal immigrants are so much in the news, half to 3/4 of the comedians out there will have that in their arsenal.

Also, life is cyclical, and certain things will happen over and over. Every generation will complain about the president, the state of things in the US, foreign policies, the cost of merchandise, etc etc etc.....

It is absolutely impossible for someone to make sure that every single bit of material they have didn't come from somewhere else. I cracked a joke for years about roadside graffiti that says "Jesus Saves" or "Jesus Is The Answer" that appeared all over the place around here. I said "Gee, I don't remember where it says in the bible 'Go ye forth and spray-paint my name on every rock and overpass ye find'." A few years ago, I heard someone do something similar on tv. I had never met this person. I didn't know who they were. Either they had the same idea I did, or perhaps someone I told it to told someone, and they told someone........

And for people who think that Chappelle was the originator, go listen to the late great Robin Harris, or George Wallace and you may change your mind. I love Chappelle, but he wasn't this major original thinker. He just put a modern spin on it, and made it his own. Carlos Mencia is a character that he plays. Comedians do play characters, Chappelle included. He's always been honest about his past that I have seen. Getting angry about him playing a character that isn't close enough to his real life would equate to someone getting angry at Ralph Macchio for being over 20, and not being a real martial arts champ when he did the Karate Kid (I know, bad analogy, but it's all I can come up with right now).

It happens all over the entertainment industry. George Harrison was sued by the Chiffons, and lost, because they felt that "My Sweet Lord" sounded entirely too much like "He's So Fine", and John Fogerty was sued by the other members of CCR because they said "The Old Man Down The Road" sounded too much like "Run Through The Jungle" (he won that case because he wrote both, and the court ruled you can't plagiarize yourself). I can't even begin to scratch the surface on how many tv shows and movies are re-worked and re-released.

And lastly, Joe Rogan didn't seem to have too much trouble appearing on Mind Of Mencia last season. I'm sure he collects royalties from that. I'm not hating on Joe Rogan - I believe you should stand up for what you believe in, but I just don't think the argument holds much water, and it gets weaker as time goes on.

Of course, I was quickly rebuffed, but hopefully I gave a few people something to think about. I dare anyone to say they've had an idea so original that no one had ever had it before, or they never borrowed heavily from someone else.

Parental Guidance Suggested

2007-06-29T09:48:00.000-07:00

I saw this clever thing on another blog (thanks Leigh!) and thought I'd give it a go. Imagine my surprise to find this:

Mingle² - Online Dating

Apparently, the logic is that I used the world "dead" 6 times, and the word "hurt" 2 times. Um.....kay? But that's ok. I guess it's better than being Rated G.

So then I saw the zombie quiz, and being a huge fan of the genre, I thought I'd give it a go. I was pleased to know my chances are better than half:

61%

Mingle² - Free Online Dating

Interesting stuff out there......

It No Longer Pays To Be Nice

2007-06-29T09:46:00.000-07:00

I'm totally convinced of that. I used to hear that old adage, "no good deed goes unpunished", and once upon a time, I didn't understand what it meant. Unfortunately, now I do.

For example: last night, I had to run to Wal-Mart, unfortunately. I so wish we had a Target, or any other alternative (aside from the poor selection of the run-down K-Mart), but we don't. I used to work at that store (heck, I set-up and opened that store), and it's always like a zoo in there. I never understood why. Anyway, the parking lot is always a horrifying mess, and last night was no exception. As I was coming up the driveway, I noticed a pick-up truck attempting to leave the lot, but he had parked in one of the lanes that exits on to the pedestrian crosswalk, and it's next to impossible to pull out on a busy night. I thought I'd do my good deed for the day.
When I got there, I sat to allow the pedestrians to cross, and when the coast was clear, sat and waited to allow him to pull out finally. I sat and waited, and waited, and waited. All this time, I keep hearing a horn honk. I looked in my rear view mirror to see if someone behind me was getting impatient, but there was no one there. Finally, the truck pulled out. As he pulled out, he was giving me a nasty look, yelling at me, and shaking his fist. Apparently, he was waiting for me to come through, and that annoyed him.

I was steaming after he pulled away. Not gonna do anything nice for anyone ever again, I thought to myself. Of course, I don't mean that, but my whole point is this: when did we get to the point where we feel entitled to certain things, and abandoned all common courtesy?

Just something to ponder.

We Got The Phone Call We'd Been Waiting For

2007-06-08T09:50:00.001-07:00

But there was a bittersweet downside.

The phone rang. I didn't recognize the name or phone number, but I saw it was from the 610 area code. We had placed two calls to Ray (Nelson's step-dad) asking him to call us and update us on the move, and to see if he needed any last-minute help. So, I decided to answer it.
It was a woman: "I was told that someone there wanted to know something about my Uncle George?".

This was a call we had been waiting for, and Nelson had gotten in to the shower about 2 minutes before. Figures. I spoke to her at length about a few things. She inquired as to how old the boys were, and where they were living/what they were doing with their lives. She said she felt very old because she remembered when the boys were born, and commented on how young they were when George died.

She was very pleasant, and said she'd help us in any way she could, and that the next time we were in the area to call, and we could come over to the house (and to bring pictures and whatnot that we need help on). We're hoping to do just that at the end of the month.
She also reiterated what the other gentleman that I spoke to did, and that was that they tried to keep up with Diane and the boys, but they just disappeared. This upset Nelson a bit. He said that it sucks that he grew up thinking that his dad's side of the family didn't care about them. He said he surmises that his dad's family didn't do something that his mom felt they should have (or a similar situation) around the time of his dad's passing, and that ticked her off. She bitterly held grudges, even ones over the span of decades. They were unaware that Diane had remarried until years later. They never knew Ray. They weren't even 100% sure they were still in the area (they were less than 25 miles away). And through it all, both of the people I talked to had nothing negative to say about Diane (that they were willing to say to me, at least). Makes you wonder.

He feels slighted that he's lost out on having a whole other part of his family that he could have been in contact with. Unfortunately, a lot of the older ones that were his dad's step-brothers and step-sisters are now gone, and that's a shame. He said it might be like someone who was adopted feels like. It's gratifying, and exciting but almost slightly overwhelming at the same time. I know that sometimes it's hard to take people at face value - especially when there's a quantity of unknown information, as is this case. I do, however, have a good bs-o-meter, and I think they're genuine (I have been known to be wrong - but not often).

So here's to looking forward to something good! I'm kind of excited......

LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!

2007-06-07T07:21:00.000-07:00

An Open Letter To All E-Mail Scammers and Spammers:

Just how stupid do you think I am?

All day, I am bombarded with your garbage. The subjects seem to rotate, but it's garbage nonetheless, and I'm fed up.

I'll admit, the first time I got a security alert from ebay several years back, I almost fell for it, but something about the page didn't look right, and ebay confirmed it. Since then, I have been frequently getting them from Citibank, PayPal, Bank Of America, Chase Manhattan - all people I use. I am smart enough to know, however, that they wouldn't send me some generic e-mail demanding I put my personal information out there for the whole world to see.

You also like to bombard me with urgent security notices from Wells Fargo, National City, People's Bank, Fifth/Third Bank, Western Union, and countless other businesses/services that I do NOT use. Again, how stupid do you think I am?? Quit wasting your time on me!

Great! I won the lottery in Austria? Fantastic! I haven't been to Austria since 1989, but hey, they must remember me!! C'mon, I don't play the lottery in my own state ('though maybe I should......). Some deposed dictator (or their family/business associates/lawyer) wants to give me millions? And all I have to do is give you my bank account number? Sign me up!!! Well, no - that might subject me to any number of Federal/International Violations. Your offer of cashing money orders for you and receiving merchandise that I must forward to you sounds much safer......

And by the way, I'll pass on your offer for Viagra or Cialis. Same goes for your offers to enlarge my manhood. I'm female, thank you very much. I don't care to make my friends jealous of my super fantastic jealous of me and my weightloss with your miracle pill. And, just so you know, your offers to look at Russian Child Pornography were promptly reported to the FBI and other associated agencies.

Today I found this notice in my mailboxes at work a number of times: Hello! I am bored, today, interested in chattign iwth ncie rpetty girl? Email me at sp@MailVisionSite.info only Would you mind me showing some nice pictures of me? Again, I'm female, and straight for that matter (no digs to any of my alternative lifestyle friends). Even if I weren't, why would I want to talk to someone that can't even spell simple words?

I resent the fact that you make me waste time wading through your pathetic garbage. This causes me to have to put any number of measures in effect to try and keep you out. You just manage to get around it, and cause my legitimate mail to bounce into Spam. While I do my best to catch it, I frequently miss someones e-mail, causing them to be angry with me. Thanks so much for that.

While I occasionally see notes in the police blotter, despite all the warnings out there, that someone falls prey to your pathetic scams, I think that enough people out there know better than to fall for your garbage, and I would suggest you direct your efforts toward scamming someone else. Or better yet, how'd you like to buy some attractive land in Florida that I have......or perhaps a nice bridge?

Did You Ever Get The Feeling

2007-06-04T18:59:00.000-07:00

that someone was trying to tell you something?

I thought I was done with high school in June of 1991. I was so wrong. I mentioned letting a friendship go in my last post. You'd think it would just be that easy, but nooooo.

Long story short as possible: I met this person about 2 years ago. They had a rudimentary website that I had been directed to. I liked what they were doing, and I offered my praise, and an offer for some assistance, if needed. To my surprise, this person jumped all over it, and offered me a (unpaid) position with their fledgling "company" (using that term loosely).

Being bored, and often having too much time on my hands, I seized this opportunity to have something to do, and to do something I enjoy. I worked long and hard toward this goal. I was thrilled to be able to brag that I was going to be a part of something cool.

I met a few people through this person that I liked, and we all became one big group of friends. We had a lot of fun, and enjoyed each other's company. As time went on, the friendship grew. I thought the world of these people. I thought absolutely nothing of hopping in a car and driving almost 12 hours (one way) to do not much more than sit down with them and have dinner. Two days later I turned around and went back home.

Then things started to turn. None of us saw it at first. It started with someone being brought in that we did not know. Where we would all once discuss and vote on things, this person was added with no consultation to us. We didn't think much of it - this person seemed OK - we all liked this person. We welcomed this person in to our little group. What no one saw was how much pull this person had with the "head" person (the one who started it all). We didn't notice that the "head" person put a lot of trust in the "new" person to "run the organization" in their increasingly limited free time. Power corrupts.

We don't know where things went really south, but new person decided that a few of us had to go. They started with the person that I think I grew closest to in the group. Last fall, my close friend went over and above what they had to do to discuss some things with new person (as they were instructed to do by head person). New person thought his idea was great, and that it should be implemented. Once my close friend implemented it, all hell broke loose.

I got home from work, and found an e-mail from head person telling me that my close friend was being let go for.......implementing the idea. I read the e-mail in disbelief. Not knowing what was really happening, I replied to the e-mail essentially saying "What you are doing is breaking my heart, but if what you are telling me is true, then I trust that you will do what is right and necessary." Later on that weekend, I got a call from my close friend, telling me the truth.

Over the course of the next few days, I tried to get everyone on board and back together, but it didn't happen. What I didn't see at the time was that there was so much divide-and-conquer going on with new person that it wasn't funny. They were pumping anyone and everyone for information, and I'm sure it was then cultivated, rearranged, and presented to head person. I caught on very quickly, and never said anything that would or could be held against me. The same could not be said for two other friends. One was axed without any good reason at all (but we surmised it was purely the affiliation with my close friend), and the other was axed, but I assume it was because of the conversations they had with new person - someone they thought they could trust (and, to a lesser degree, the above-mentioned affiliation). I, however, was lied to. I was told that they had quit. When I received e-mails from both of them questioning why they'd been axed, I smelled a rat.

I rode the next few months out, figuring someone would come to their senses, but it wasn't to be. I became increasingly angry at new person, and drastically cut my time there. I figured head person would ask why, giving me a chance to speak my mind. Nope. As time went on, I didn't end my friendship with any of the people who were drug down in this mess. I waited for the day when I too would be gone, but it didn't happen. I'm sure it was largely because I stopped associating with new person, and never gave new person anything to use against me.

I felt very guilty that I never stood up for my close friend as well as I should have. Even after I knew the truth. I just let it ride, and it always bothered me. About 2 weeks ago, another person was axed (well, this person was one that I mentioned above that I had been told quit - they did allow that person back - claimed it was a misunderstanding - sure) with absolutely no valid reason (other than they were one of the last of the old order). I'd had enough.

I confronted head person in a long, wordy, well-thought-out e-mail. I received several replies (typical of this person) running the gamut of emotion and coherence. I replied that I did not mean to send them in to a tizzy, and they answered back that it was OK, and that some of the points I made were valid. I finally gritted my teeth and let it all go. I said about all the garbage that new person was flinging, and that I was fed up with it, and did they even realize just how deep new person was taking this. No reply. It's been over two weeks. That speaks volumes.

In one of the emotionally charged e-mails, head person busted down my close friend - this was before I sent the final e-mail where I let it all go. It said that my close friend should stop being pigheaded and pick up the phone or e-mail. Understandably, my close friend had cut head person out of their life. All attempts to contact my close friend were ignored.

Inspired by my e-mail, my close friend decided to send a not-so-friendly e-mail to head person basically reiterating a lot of what I said and telling head person to get bent, I suspect. I doubt my close friend got a reply either. So today, I go over to log in to the website that I helped head person (and once my close friend) run. I still had my access, but not surprisingly, I'd lost a lot of my rights on the site. Head person then put up a note stating that they were closing one of the sites and consolidating, and made a number of statements that won't be of any importance here, but basically told me that my suggestions were totally ignored.

Sorry to be an ass, but my attitude toward this whole cluster anymore is "boo-freaking-hoo". I swear these people try to get off by making others feel sorry for them, or guilty (that goes for head and new person). Not gonna work on me anymore. I spoke my mind, and defended my friends as I should have a long time ago. My conscience is crystal-clear, and when (not if) that whole thing implodes, I'll have absolutely no regrets. I think I gained much more than head person and new person ever can: 5 really good friends. Friends who I can hang out with, or call at any time when I need a shoulder. That means more to me than any accolades or praise I could have gotten by continuing to keep my mouth shut and go along with the crowd. I didn't do that much in high school, and I'm not going to start now.

Like Sands Through The Hourglass

2007-06-01T19:36:00.000-07:00

so are the days of my life. Yeah yeah - tacky, I know. And BAD ME for letting this go so long without an update.

I can say this - my life is anything but dull lately.

Let's see........

Right before I left for Ohio last month, my Grammy fell in her bedroom. She laid on the floor for quite awhile before she pushed the Life Alert - they estimate about 5 hours. She dislocated her shoulder. For the first few days, she seemed foggy, but they had her big-time doped up on painkillers, so we didn't worry. As time went on, it appeared that she likely suffered a small stroke (either as a result of the fall, or leading up to the fall) and is also in the early stages of either Alzheimer's or Dementia.

We noticed that she had been repeating herself and getting slightly confused at times over the last few months, but jeez - if we're all as good as she is when we're 87.... They sent her to Buffalo Valley (a nursing home) from the hospital to rehab her shoulder. I wasn't happy. Buffalo Valley is where my Pappy worked when he was alive, and where he died after his massive stroke. Too many bad memories there. Grammy was not happy. She just wanted to go back home. We didn't have the heart to tell her that it's never going to happen.

After a month of rehab, the staff decided she's well enough physically and mentally for semi-assisted living. They don't trust her in her own duplex or apartment, but she's in her own room (like a studio apartment) in their assisted living center - better than a nursing home. She has independence, but they're also keeping an eye on her. I've been spending a lot of time up there, trying to help her adjust. She still thinks this is a temporary setback, and she'll be going home soon. We're rebuffed any time that we offer to bring something from home - her favorite chair, pictures, etc.

My favorite uncle came up from Oklahoma for a week to check up on her and help make some decisions that she's not capable of making on her own. He was only here for a week, but he'll be back soon to stay for longer. He and I and his wife went to see Grindhouse while he was here, and he loved it as much as we did (this was my 2nd time - first time was when we were in Ohio). It provided a much-needed break from reality.

Things are going well for Ray (Nelson's step-dad). Turns out he's not quite as bad off as we were concerned - he bought himself a nice double-wide in a nice park where my step-sister-in-law lives. It's out of the city, he owns it free and clear, and he is absolutely thrilled about it. He is having a devil of a time sorting out Diane's possessions, though. Man, she hoarded anything and everything, and I am slightly embarrassed to say that we contributed a lot to it. Sometimes it was just easier to toss her a trinket to keep things on an even keel when we went to visit, and we frequently did.

Ray found some more things for us to take home. He found the larger wedding album from George and Diane's wedding. Both sets of photos are not properly stored, so I've now got that task ahead of me. The proofs have already begun to discolor slightly, and I had a devil of a time prying the larger ones out of the album - they had begun to stick fast. He also handed us George's funeral book - the one they put out at the funeral home for people to sign and where they list who sent flowers, who was a pall bearer, etc. This provided us a rare opportunity to see who his dad's friends and concerned family were, and we've begun contacting people. I've spoken to a gentleman that I believe would have been his step-nephew (son of a step-brother). He was one of his pall bearers. He said he didn't remember George all that well, but gave me the number of his sister. She wasn't home, but I left a message. Hopefully she'll call.

Lynn (the man I spoke to) did dispel one thing for me. Diane never wanted to discuss George's family whenever we asked. She'd simply say that his side of the family was always fighting, and that she never had any in-laws because they had died by the time they got married. She was right on that part - George's dad died when he was 5, we found out, and we're not sure when his mother died, but it appears to have been before 1972. He told me that they had tried to keep up with Diane and the boys, but after George died, they just up and disappeared, which is essentially true. Shortly after Diane and Ray began dating, she lost the family home to foreclosure (a lesson learned: always have life insurance - you never know when your time on earth is up) and they packed up and moved to Allentown, leaving a lot of their old life behind, somewhat for the worse than the better. While I can't imagine being a widow at 30 with two boys under the age of 10, and suddenly having to support everyone with your sole income gone (and having no insurance), I feel you still owe it to your children to keep up with their father's family if they want it. It's one thing that has always bothered Nelson. He found out after his mom's passing that people he knew were relatives of some variety were really step-brothers and step-sisters of his dad, and he's lost contact.

Another lesson learned: label your pictures. I'm totally anal-retentive about this, and it drives me nuts that I now have 8-8x10, 12-5x7, and 98-3.5x5 pictures, and we only know a small handful of the people in them - 8 to be exact - and all but two of them are dead. Considering that they had 13 bridesmaids and 13 groomsmen alone, that's not much. In an attempt to identify more people, we've showed the photos around (more on that later) but there's only been a few "I think that's so and so but I'm not sure" responses. I know there's one person out there that could shed some light on it all, but she's estranged from the rest of the family, and I refuse to "bow down" to this person in the interest of finding out who some of the people are.

We ran out to the Pittsburgh area over Memorial Day weekend to re-connect with Nelson's Uncle Ron. I had never met him. He's an "involuntary guest of the Commonwealth" (my late Uncle Dutch's favorite euphemism - he was one too frequently) - ie: incarcerated. I hold no fear in visiting prisons - I'd been in and out of prison visiting rooms for many years because of my aforementioned Uncle. Things are really different now, in terms of rules and whatnot.

Speaking to him was very enlightening. He was able to shed some light on a lot of situations that we were left scratching our heads over. We were hoping he'd be able to ID some people in the photos, but he wasn't any better off than we were. He had a lot of nice things to say about George. He said he was a good man, a hard worker, and very honorable. He also said he was quiet - something Nelson remembers pretty vividly. He talked about how he'd go along with Diane to Philadelphia when Nelson was a baby and needed a slew of operations. Sometimes George couldn't go due to work, and Diane didn't drive in their early days, so Ron would drive. He made it pretty clear that George loved both of the boys, and that made him feel good.

I have to hand it to him - he's got an amazing spirit. If I had been in prison on a horrifyingly unfair sentence for the past 30 years with no prospects in the near future of getting out, I'd be so much more bitter. He's missed graduations of children, births of grandchildren, the funerals of his mother and step-father (although who knows if he'd have bothered - I wouldn't have), the funeral of a nephew, the funerals of two sisters, and countless other things that we take for granted. His wife left him, and as a highly decorated Viet-Nam Veteran who suffered terrible post traumatic stress disorder and was shoved under the rug like so many returning vets (ask my dad), his country left him as well. Lastly, the system has failed him time and again. Remember this: not everyone in prison is a horrible criminal, deserving of nothing more than bread and water. People who have done things thousands of times more terrible have been in and out several times while he sits and waits.

He credits his survival to his second wife, Terri. She's an amazing person in her own right. She married him while he was incarcerated. They've never spent a day together that wasn't behind bars. And for those who ask (and they often do, so I'll spare you from asking the question), no, the Commonwealth Of PA does not allow any type of conjugal visit. They've been married for like 25 years now. She tirelessly pounds the pavement to get his story heard, and has launched a relentless campaign to get his sentence commuted to time served. We wish her well, and we will help in any way we can.

A few final tidbits: Nelson will soon be starting his work with the abused children. He's looking forward to it. My friend that I met up with in Cleveland who was looking to relocate there from California did get the job. He text messaged me last night that he had arrived, and was moving in. He starts his new job on Monday. YAY DANIEL!! I'm thrilled to have a buddy reasonably close that enjoys a lot of the same hobbies that I do. I'm already planning an UrbEx trip for the fall!! I had to let go of another friendship, but it's really for the best. It was becoming increasingly one-sided, and I don't need the emotional baggage.

Never a dull moment!

"I Went Back To Ohio

2007-04-25T08:53:00.000-07:00

but my city was gone" - The Pretenders, My City Was Gone

I've been back to Ohio since I left in 1992 a few times. First time was in 2004, when we were looking for a different place to go for our anniversary weekend. We returned to Youngstown, and while we were happy to see that the city is trying very hard to rebound, the upper end of Belmont Ave, usually lively and bustling, has been reduced to a ghost town of boarded up hotels and businesses.

Second time was in 2005. We went out to Dan Marino's induction in to the Pro Football Hall Of Fame. Something I promised Nelson we'd do for as long as I've known him. We went to Canton, then down to below Columbus to spend a few days with a family friend, then back up to Canton for the induction ceremony. After that, we went back to......Youngstown for the evening (we couldn't have stayed in Canton if we wanted to - stuff was booked up a year in advance, but we didn't want to then run all the way home). We stayed on the upper end of Belmont Ave, and it was depressing. The hotel was rundown (despite all the information I found online) and they had lost our reservation, then accused me of making it for the wrong day. She chose to make an issue of it, despite the fact that they were largely empty and getting a room was no problem.

We swung by in 2006. We were on our way to Chicago, and we stopped for gas, and hot dogs at Jay's Famous. We also tried swapping out our horrible rental car, but that's a long and frustrating story. Which brings us to the current trip, which we started on April 13.

Let me slide, for a moment, back to the title of this post. I had been familiar with this song for years, but it never had much meaning for me personally until recently. I'd always heard the phrase "you can't go home again" and never really got it. Youngstown Ohio was my home, for 2 years. I left it, largely due to crime and some changes in structure at my university (Youngstown State - GO PENGUINS!!). They had discontinued my chosen program, so that was the final nudge I needed to pack up and go back home. See? I did go home again, and I haven't left this area (in tems of living here) since. But it's not really that simple, and it took me a while to get that.

I'll let Chrissy give me a hand in this. The song starts:

I went back to Ohio
But my city was gone
There was no train station
There was no downtown
South Howard had disappeared
All my favorite places
My city had been pulled down
Reduced to parking spaces
A, o, way to go Ohio

The first time I really listened to this and "got" it, was after my visit in 2004. I immediately thought of the upper end of Belmont. The Ramada? Boarded up. The Motel 6? Gone. Days Inn? Boarded up. Econo Lodge? Boarded up. K-Mart? Boarded up. Giant Eagle? Moved to Boardman. Pretty much the entire Liberty Plaza? Empty - out of business and boarded up. Starvin' Marvin? Still there, but is now just Speedway.

I remember the times when I went out there before I started college. The times when my parents (and later my husband) would come and visit me. We stayed in every one of those hotels. They were easy access off Route 80, which exits at Belmont. The first stop for my dad was Starvin' Marvin, for gas. Then Giant Eagle, to hit their imported beer aisle. Mom and I frequented the Liberty Plaza and the K-Mart across the street a lot. When I moved out there, I continued shopping there. There were nice stores, and the prices were good. Giant Eagle was always a place to get good snacks and stuff for the dorm. To see it all gone just blew my mind.

Well I went back to Ohio
But my family was gone
I stood on the back porch
There was nobody home
I was stunned and amazed
My childhood memories
Slowly swirled past
Like the wind through the trees
A, o, oh way to go Ohio

On that visit, I swung over to YSU - my old home. I didn't recognize it. While it has changed for the better, it was still a shock. The University has purchased a lot of the blighted surrounding areas and turned them in to new facilities, dorms, and whatnot. I walked around campus, and while some things were the same, some were so different. I don't know why I expected to pass people I knew - they're now long gone, having moved away and started their lives as I did. However, in the back of my mind I still expected to see at least one person I knew. It didn't happen. Life out there moved on without me, and as irrational as it sounds, I was a tad disappointed for a brief time.

I went back to Ohio
But my pretty countryside
Had been paved down the middle
By a government that had no pride
The farms of Ohio
Had been replaced by shopping malls
And muzak filled the air
From Seneca to Cuyahoga falls
Said, a, o, oh way to go Ohio

Which brings us to the trip I just returned from. It's well known amongst mall rats and junkies like myself that Ohio is rife with shopping malls - many now dead or dying. It's one thing that I absolutely loved about it. Many people don't understand my somewhat odd affinity for malls both healthy and dead. I'm not alone, but most of my immediate circle of family and friends just don't get it. I went to the Cleveland area to meet up with a friend (incidentally, a friend who loves malls as I do) who lives in California but is looking to relocate to Cleveland. We decided to take a day to hit up two dead mall gems we were aware of in the area. I may have been to the one at one time, but I couldn't be sure. The other one was one I had spent a lot of time at. It was a huge beautiful mall. Great architecture, great stores, and a fantastic sculpture that hung from the ceiling at center court. When I first met my husband, neither he nor I had much money. We spent a lot of time over there, just hanging out, people watching, and hitting up the penny candy store (how I miss The Candy Tree). The first thing he ever bought me came from that mall - a gold bracelet with my name on the front, and his on the back - and yes, I still have it. What I saw upon arrival just broke my heart.

I'd heard the horror stories about how bad it had gotten, but nothing prepared me for what I saw. The operative phrase for the day was "What happened?". Nelson will accompany me on my mall junkets, ususally just to get out of the house, but even he was saddened to see it. He just kept shaking his head, and looking at my friend and saying "We used to fight for parking spaces here. It was unusual to see an empty storefront, and it ususally filled back up again soon. Some stores had locations on the first and second floors." We did our part in keeping it open another day by buying a few things. In some ways, it would be better to just demolish the place, but the place hasn't been updated since it was built in 1976, and it has some fantastic architecture, and it would be a crime to tear it down (and this is an issue I have with the demolition or extensive remodeling of a lot of malls).

So I get it now. You really can't go home again. Not to the times that you remember, anyway. When I reflect on it, the area here has changed drastically as well in some terms, but stays the same in others. They can take my city and my malls, but at least they can't take my memories. I get it, but I don't have to like it.

There's a great video on Youtube that I have linked to here that shows the sad state of both of the aforementioned malls, and an additional mall that I've not been to (and the person who posted it has some other great videos as well). Coincidentally, they chose "My City Was Gone" to illustrate this. The first mall, Rolling Acres, is one I know about but have never visited. The second one, Randall Park, is the one the just crushed me. The third, Euclid Square, was the other one we visited, which gives new meaning to the term "Dead Mall". There's a Montgomery Ward sandwiched in there - I'm not sure where that one was located, and it doesn't say. Watch, and "enjoy", and ignore the comments left that are a bit rude..........

Bring On April!

2007-04-02T14:39:00.000-07:00

**I started this on April 2nd and saved it as a draft. I finally published it almost 2 weeks later, so sorry for the confusing date conflicts**

March was craptacular at best for so many reasons that I'm glad to see it gone.

April hasn't started the best. I had a reaction to a medication I was prescribed. Despite being a fuller figured person, I've been lucky with my health. All of a sudden on April Fool's Day, of all days, I started in with chest pain and heartburn. As the day went on, it didn't go away. I rarely have heartburn. This was not normal. All indicators appeared to be a gastro problem, common with this medication, but everything also said to go to the hospital to rule out a heart attack.

I spent several hours in the Geisinger Emergency Room. It was worth it for the peace of mind of knowing that not only was it NOT a heart attack, my heart and cardiovascular system is excellent right now. My blood pressure is also good. I've been working out, and recently hit a 10% reduction of my overall body weight, and I've now surpassed it. My doctor adjusted the dosage, and although it took the better part of 10 days, I now feel better in that regard.

I spent Good Friday in Connecticut, at the Mohegan Sun. My first experience with a full-scale casino. My mom has been hitting them for years (although not this one), and after a day there, I can honestly say that I have absolutely no idea how people can spend hour after hour locked in there. Seriously. It's dark, and cold, and smoky. I was there to see a concert, and had a good time, and the casino itself is aesthetically beautiful, but gambling is not my forte.

Ray (Nelson's step-dad) came up from Allentown and went out to eat with us on Easter Sunday (Me, Nelson, Mom, and Dad). He found some of Nelson's dad's paperwork and brought it along. It was enlightening to say the least. We had no idea of any of the stuff associated with that. We found out his dad was a sharpshooter in the marines, had bunch of step-brothers and step-sisters, and was a "Jr". We also found out the name of his parents, and the search is on to try and finally get the family tree traced - hopefully. Turns out his dad's unusual name is a lot more common than we thought.

Hopefully with feeling better, I can get my butt back on track to updating this more often. I often groan when I go to a blog I enjoy and see that it hasn't been updated in ages. Pot calling kettle, line 2.......

As The Dust Settles

2007-03-29T21:38:00.000-07:00

from the events of the past two weeks, I get a chance to sit, and catch my breath, and think (which can be dangerous - lol).

Nelson is at peace with his mom's passing. Through death, she's been able to give him something - a chance to heal. He'd been doing well with letting go of his burdens - namely the physical and mental scars of his relationship with her. Wanting to run from her because of her treatment, but wanting to cling to her because she was the only birth parent he had left. He had given a lot of his burdens up, but he was stuck on a few. Now, it makes no sense to continue to have ill feelings toward someone who is no longer here, and can no longer hurt him.

She's also made something else possible: a relationship with family members who were all estranged - namely his brother, and step-sisters. I love Jason to pieces - I always wanted a brother (or sister for that matter), but whenever conflict came up, Jason automatically sided with his mother - no matter what. This drove a wedge between the two of them, and she honestly did nothing to help matters. This was the first we'd seen him in a good number of years. I was expecting the same old, but we were pleasantly surprised. While he still has a lot of growing up to do (even at age 29), I think he realizes what is important. At the funeral, Nelson went up to Jason and put his arm around him. He said "We've gotta stick together. We're all we have left." And while he meant no disrespect to his step-father, I think Jason got the message, as he nodded, and put his arm around Nelson.

We were able to open up a dialogue with his two step-sisters as well, and they finally felt like they were able to clear the air, and a lot of misconceptions about past events, and see that they were really all in the same boat. The younger of his step-sisters, Toni, said it best when she said "Sometimes, it takes the kids to break the chain of violence". Truer words were never said.

It Only Takes A Minute

2007-03-12T18:50:00.000-07:00

for your life to change drastically.

Today started like any other day. It was about 9:30am, and I was settling in for another slow-season mundane day. My phone rang. A quick check of the screen showed it was the person at the front desk calling me. I thought she was calling with a question on something, so I finished my task before picking up.

"You have a call on line 1" she said. "It's a (insert name of my step-father-in-law here)".
"Oh" I said. "He's probably calling to shoot the breeze. I'm honestly not in that kind of mood this morning".
"Well, do you want to be busy right now? I can take a message" she said.

I thought about it, for a moment (I was at work and did have things to do), and then told her no, I'd take the call. I picked up and did my standard phone introduction. I heard his familiar "Hey" on the other end. Then silence. I could hear him breathing oddly, and he was fumbling for what to say. I got a little concerned. I waited for him to continue.

He said, "Where's Nelson?" I replied that he was at work. His voice started to quiver a bit, and he was breathing harder. He said, "I need you to find him for me....." as he trailed off. I've heard this before. It's usually followed by "(Insert name here) passed away". I start running down a list of names in my mind, and find that most have been the subject of this type of phone call already. Before I can finish my mental checklist, he finds the strength to finish his sentence. "I need you to tell him his mother........she's...........passed away".

He barely got it out before he lost it. I sat at my desk in stunned silence. "What?!?" I said. He just replied "yeah". The next minute was just an exchange of basic information in the form of short sentences.

Me: "When?"
Him: "Sometime last night."
Me: "What happened?!?"
Him: "Went to sleep. Didn't wake up."
Me: "Ok. I can't believe this."

I had to gather my thoughts. I just started rambling. "It's ok, it's going to be ok. I'll find Nelson. It may take me a while. I'm not sure where exactly he is. I'll have him call you, ok? Give me your phone number and I'll have him call you but it might take a little while." He gave me the number and I hung the phone up. I sat there for a minute. My co-workers (my mom among them) saw something was wrong. I looked at them all and said "My mother-in-law just died". They also sat in stunned silence. This prompted another Q&A session.

Them: "How old was she?"
Me: "She never said much about it. Between 55 and 57."
Them: "Was she sick?"
Me: "Her health isn't the best, but she wasn't in her last days or anything."
Them: "Wow. Just, wow."
Me: "Yeah".

Then came the part I was dreading. I broke the news to him before. My grandpa, his Aunt Doris and a few other family members, but this is a biggie. I was in no way prepared for this. My actions were going to change his life forever, and not for the better. I called up to the shop, but I asked for his boss instead. He informed me that Nelson was out on fleet maintenance, and had complained he wasn't feeling well (he'd been sick all weekend) and was going home. He knew something was wrong, and I informed him of what happened. I again had a similar exchange as I did with my coworkers. I said that I thought I'd wait until he got home, then run home and tell him what was happening. He agreed it was a good idea.

I had no sooner hung up the phone, when my direct line rang. I answered it. It was Nelson, calling from the road. I panicked. He was in a fairly good mood. "Can you do me a favor?" he says, going in to detail as to what he needed. I was quiet. He had to ask me twice. He kept asking me what was wrong, and I kept pushing it off. I told him I called the shop for him and they told me he was going home. He confirmed that. I told him I needed to talk to him, but I'd rather wait. After another minute or two of give-and-take, I finally let it out. There was some stunned silence, and more of the same two or three word sentences. I offered to come and get him. He declined. He said he was going to tie-up some loose ends, and he'd stop by the office before he went home to get his dad's phone number. We then went to lunch to just kind of take it all in and think about it.

So this is where the story ends, or so it seems. If only it were that easy. Most people who know us know that the relationship he and his mother had was anything but normal. The home she provided was an abusive and tumultuous one. Verbal insults and frequent beatings were the order of the day. I witnessed first hand that it seemed no matter what you did, she was never satisfied. He struggled to keep her happy. And then I came along.

With her being the consummate control freak, I got in the way. He no longer had to listen to her. He moved in with my parents and saw how a different family dynamic worked. He began to become more and more impatient with her and her way of life. Things between them got more and more strained. By the time we got married, it was a powder keg, and that was that catalyst that set it all off in the form of an ugly screaming match that had me worn to a frazzle, and resulted in him not speaking to her for upwards of four years.

He had trouble dealing with things that were done to him, so he just stuffed them, and it got worse and worse. Last year, I finally got him in to a good counseling program (and a word to the wise - if you can afford it, go outside of your health insurance system for the best programs). Their approach is a bit non-traditional, and lightly Christian based, but it's made a tremendous difference. When he stopped to see her last week (when he was at the meeting at corporate), he said he actually managed to have a nice visit using the tools they taught him. I thank the big guy upstairs for that. His last memory is at least a positive one.

So this is the situation I find myself in: I don't know how to grieve for her. I find myself caught between sadness and a demented form of relief, which turns in to guilt, and runs a vicious cycle. I keep telling myself that she was a tortured soul, and that I hope that in death, she finds some peace. Hopefully I can keep telling myself that, and I'll start to believe it. Until then, all I can do is help Nelson through this time. Despite everything, nothing changes the fact that no one should have to be an orphan at 33 (well, 34 next month). I can't imagine how that feels.

So Today Is The Day To Rant About Sexism

2007-03-08T14:37:00.000-08:00

I have to be very honest and say that I don't experience it a lot in my personal life. I get most of it at work, and not from the company I work for, but some of our customers. A friend of mine once wrote "Some people are so ate up with the dumbass that it's not funny". Whether he invented that phrase or borrowed it is a mystery for me, but it always gives me a chuckle.

A lot of our clientele are male. We deal with athletic goods, some for a sport in particular that, while slowly becoming a "uni-sex" sport, is still largely male. Testosterone city. But that's OK. I love my job, I love the company I work for, and I love what I do, and for the most part, my customers are great. Every now and then, however, you get that one that just needs a reality check.

For example, the other day I was dealing with a company that I hadn't dealt with before. They sent in some scant information, and I got confused as to what they wanted, and consequently faxed them the wrong information back. I got a phone call from someone who worked there, with a head of steam on. He wouldn't let me finish a sentence. He frequently insulted me, telling me to get my head on straight and how could I not understand the obvious - and other niceties like that. Every time I tried to point out to him that the information he gave me was confusing at best, I was instructed to get my act together. Finally, unable to deal with him, I transferred him to someone else, hoping they'd be able to handle it better. They were equally insulted, I was insulted a little more for good measure, and then he transferred her to someone else who insulted her. As if that wasn't bad enough, she was then transferred back to the original insulter, who was asking her to do things she's not allowed to do so that it would work in his favor. She continually said no. He finally relented.

Two days later, he called back again. The person I transferred him to during his previous phone call answered. He was again requesting that we do things we aren't allowed to do. She again told him no. When he refused to budge, she transferred him to the manager. She explained the whole thing, and gave the manager a heads-up that he's not a nice guy. He said he'd handle it. After the call ended, he came out and we asked him how it went. He said the guy was NICE AS PIE to him and when he told him no to his request, he said OK and that was the end of it. We were both ready to pull our hair out.

It's a sucky fact of life that most women, even those in power, are treated differently than men. Most men would rather speak to another man, and will give them more respect. I can call a customer who is not being very helpful in the process at work a dozen times with no return call. I can be nice, I can make threats - doesn't matter. I turn it over to my production or traffic manager (both men) and they call back right away. It hardly ever fails.

We've discussed this in staff meetings. All of our front-line office staff are women. All but one of our next "level" of staff are men. They know the games that are played, and are always eager to help out and fix a situation for us. While we appreciate that, we shouldn't have to hand it off to someone else just to get a simple question answered.

What should it matter whether you give your answer to a man or woman? Honestly, you'll get the job done faster if you go direct to me. Going around me only makes the information have to flow through someone else, upping the risk of having something get lost in the translation, and lengthening the time that it takes for the information to be finalized. It also takes time away from someone who shouldn't have to be dealing with the problem in the first place.

But hey, what do I know?

Yikes - I have been neglecting this big time!

2007-03-03T21:01:00.000-08:00

February just kicked my rear end this year. It was just one of those months where it's one thing after another. It should be a law that there is a limit of one of those a year. If it was, I'd be set from here on out. ; ) A long time ago, I was told that old adage of "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade". I've been trying to stick to that, and I stay a little saner.

For starters, February is the month where we finalize all of our stuff for the major state and national high school and college tournaments that we sponsor and are suppliers for at work. I usually get stressed to the max. Every day brings the same things, and as you can imagine, it gets redundant. Requests for a count to see if we've met the needs of the individual tournaments yet in terms of units they will require. Each one has it's own requirements - not just with the number of units, but the style, size, color requirements, etc. Requests for an update on the readiness of items to be moved in to production. Other requests too numerous to mention right now. Thankfully, that is all over, as tournaments are going on right now, and will be for the next few weeks. While it's nice to return to the more leisurely pace this time of year brings at work, it's an even greater satisfaction to turn on the television, and see something you had a hand in creating go live coast-to-coast on a major network. My proudest moment was when something I had a hand in creating ended up in a centerfold style picture in Sports Illustrated (and not the swimsuit issue....).

Nelson got a promotion two weeks ago to Service Manager, and he's been a bit keyed up about it. He's nervous about how to handle things - he's never been in a position like this. Thankfully he's only got 2 guys working at the shop right now, and that will give him a chance to get used to it before they expand sometime later this year. When he first worked with his boss a number of years ago for a different company, he (his boss) said to me one day "He'll be running the shop someday. He's got the know-how". Little did I know then that day would eventually be here. I'm very proud of him. He goes to his first big meeting at corporate Monday and Tuesday. He's nervous and excited at the same time, and I'm happy for him. It's a nice recognition for all the hard work he's put in over the years, both for the previous years they worked together and the present.

And speaking of Nelson and the company he works for, we had a bit of a shocker this past month. We have two vehicles; a 1992 Mazda B2600i pick-up that Nelson uses to run back and forth to work, and a 1997 Dodge Peel-on, er, Neon, which is my car, and a long standing sore subject between me and the dealer who sold it to me. BTW, if you live in my area here in Central PA, do your research before you buy anything from a certain Dodge dealer who has 2 locations, one across the river from the other. They have their name on the dealership, and tell you that you'll drive away with a smile. Sure. At any rate, we've had that pick-up for about 10 years now, and because of a bad deal with the Neon, we ended up putting a large sum of money in to it to fix some mechanical problems because we couldn't afford another car payment. We made the decision to run it until it fell apart. We've been enjoying life without a car payment for the past year. Nelson called me at work about two weeks ago and said "Um, the truck is toast". Figuring that it blew up again or something, I said "What happened?". He said "Well, I'm away from the shop doing a fleet maintenance when I get a call from Rick (the boss). He said that they were inside, and heard a tremendous roar, and then a loud bang. They ran outside, and saw all the snow and ice (from a bad snow storm we got) fell off the roof and landed on not only my truck, but 3 other vehicles. I guess it's pretty bad". He was laughing, but I wasn't. He called me when he got back to the shop. The snow caved the roof in pretty good, and caused some minor damage to the hood, and totally smashed the windshield. They pounded up the roof so he could drive it, and replaced the windshield so he could at least get it back and forth to work.

They told us to get an estimate. It was $1300. Kelley Blue Book is $1270. The company decided to cut us a check as the truck would be considered a loss. I offered to sign it over to them, but they didn't want it. We decided to start looking around for a car, as we'd have a nice down payment to keep the financing affordable. We weren't in any hurry. Then the truck started running "funny". I don't know if it sustained some mechanical damage we didn't know about, or if it is just time for it to die, but it got a little more urgent. We had wanted a Dodge Stratus, and found one at a lot of a local non-Dodge dealer who is well established. As I learned with the Neon, however, that doesn't always mean anything. That Dodge dealer had come highly recommended to me.

When I called down to inquire about it, the gentleman who answered the phone gave his name, and it was a slightly unusual variation of a relatively common name. We talked, and when I hung up, I said to Nelson "I went to school with a guy who went by that name. It's a little unusual." and left it at that. When I stepped in to the showroom, I realized that it wasn't a coincidence. It was the guy I graduated with. Inside, I groaned a little. My high school was one large conglomerations of cliques, and I've spent the years since trying to get away from it. Many of the kids had very well-off parents, and used that influence for personal gain. Don't get me wrong - I had my fair share of friends, but there were a lot of jerks there as well who loved to remind you that they felt they were better than you. This guy wasn't one of them, but he also wasn't a friend either. We ran with different crowds.

I said right away "We graduated together." He kept looking at me, but said he couldn't place me - even after I gave him my name. We had a class of about 130 kids, and I was surprised, but not everyone has a knack for remembering mundane details like I do. While we were on a test drive, he said to me "Did you always have short hair?" I said "I did in middle school, but in high school I had long, very big and poofy hair." He immediately said "I remember you know - you were in the program for smart kids (gifted program), on the debate team, and in the band". I said "Yep, I was a geek." I used to hate that label, but I own it now. I'd rather be remembered as a geek than a jerk. Nelson and I left and discussed it. They were asking too much money for a 2002 car for the mileage it had. We decided to go back in and push for a lower price, or an extended warranty. They wouldn't budge - even after we got a mechanic friend to call in and tell them that it has the same engine as the Neon, and the same associated problems. The look on his face when we said "No deal" saddened me. I saw him in a different way.

We chatted while Nelson stepped outside to plot our next move. He told me about his life in the military after high school and his travels. About his little boy who lives about an hour away with his mother. He smiled when he said it was his weekend to have him. I saw the cute little guy's picture up in his cubicle. I took a quick mental stock of the situation. As I mentioned previously, while we weren't friends, I wouldn't lump him in to the group "enemies" either. I saw him as a guy trying to earn a decent living to provide not only for him, but his little boy. He was trying. Rather than walking away, which is what I thought Nelson would do next, I asked him if he could show me something else. I had really wanted to stay Dodge, but this was not a Dodge lot. It was a Kia lot. I thought maybe I could do better if I "went native". His eyes lit up when I said that.

He found us a nice 2004 Kia Spectra that had less mileage than the Stratus, and has the balance of it's factory warranty - 24 months. We decided to buy it. It'll be paid off in 3 years or less. I felt good. I needed a new vehicle that wouldn't break me, and I got him a nice sale. I told him when I left today with my car that part of my job is sales, and I understand. While I earn straight pay and don't work off commission (as I'm sure he does), I know how the game is played, and I'm glad I could help out. He thanked me, and said he was going to go spend time with his little boy. And now I have a nice new "toy". We're hoping to sell the truck privately for a few hundred - it's worth it in parts alone. If it doesn't go in the next 2 weeks, we're going to take it to auction. I know it'll sell there. It's still running, albeit a tad roughly from time to time. It'll make a nice vehicle for someone who can do their own mechanical work. We have a nice start for them in terms of new parts we put in to it.

To close out the month, I went back to the gym after being cleared and released by my surgeon. Instead of the YMCA (which charges outrageous rates), I joined a local community center. The rates are better, and the facilities are not only comparable, they're more modern. I am enjoying my return to aquacise. It's doing wonders for my arthritis, but I'm pooped and my muscles are sore (which is actually a good thing). I challenge anyone who thinks that aquacise is a waste of time to come on down and work out with me and the old ladies. The community center has lots of sessions, but I go Tuesday and Thursday from 7:30-8:30pm. Weights will be provided. Be prepared to not stop moving the entire time.

Such Is The Lonely Life

2007-02-16T18:04:00.000-08:00

of a tire widow. It was about a year ago that my husband decided to get back in to the tire game - something he swore he'd never do again - after a 5 year absence. While the tire game had largely been good to him, the company he hooked up with had not. It didn't start out that way, but changes in structure and management led to a rapidly deteriorating environment.

He left for what he thought were greener pastures. We couldn't have been more wrong. He was promised so much, but so little was given. He briefly left there to try his hand at something else, but again, restructuring lead to problems, not only for him but several others working there, including my dad. Needing a job, he reluctantly returned to the not-so-greener pastures, and the next few years were a challenge. When you're truly miserable in your work, it makes life hell. I've been there myself.

I was happy in his return to the world of tires. It's something he knows and something he's good at. He decided not to fight it anymore. It also allowed him to return to the employ of the man who taught him everything he knew about tires his first time around. He had also had left the company before Nelson did, citing similar reasons. He was someone we trusted. The company had a lot to offer, and it was a done deal.

Returning to the tire world does bring one unpleasant side effect: the road service call. Like the mail service, neither rain nor snow nor gloom of night keeps the truck drivers of the world from making their appointed runs, and getting blown tires. At any time of the day or evening, including weekends and holidays, the Nextel Cell Phone will play it's annoying little ditty, and it's time to go. Tonight, it went off at 8:30. Destination: somewhere on Interstate 180 to replace two blown tires. Sometimes it's close, like the Sheetz on the strip, and sometimes it's far away, like Laporte. Most of the time it involves getting in one of our vehicles, and driving up to the shop - about a 15 minute drive - where the service truck is loaded, and the call commences. Most of the time he's gone anywhere from 2 hours to 4 hours.

It does have it's perks. It's guaranteed double time, and guaranteed 2 hour minimum. The downside is that when you're on call, you have no life. It will never fail - the moment you leave to go somewhere, the phone rings. You also get little sleep. I didn't used to mind it so much the first go-round. I was allowed to go along, and I frequently did. We kept each other awake, and we kept each other company, and in the event that there was no driver around, I was there to call for help if he needed it, and was unable to call himself. This time, however I'm not allowed to go - insurance regulations and all that, so I worry.

It's a trade off, though. He's happy at this job. He's well paid and well treated. He's about to get a nice promotion. The occasional annoyance is deal-able. Besides, the diploma from Firestone University is worth it's weight in gold...... :D

Get Outta Here....

2007-02-05T20:07:00.000-08:00

I had my 2nd month post-op appointment with the surgeon today. The ladies in his office know me well. I don't even have to check in at the window. They just yell "Hi. Just have a seat!" through the glass window at me.

The doctor came back, and brought a student with him. That was a tad embarassing. He asked how I was doing, and then said "Well, let's see it!". I exposed my midsection, and got subjected to a lot of poking and prodding. Twice, I got the "Turn your head and cough" routine. He said it looked good and felt good, and I could gradually increase my lifting over the next few months.

I inquired about the lump on my abdomen, which was thought to be a seroma, but he has now decided it's likely a lipoma. They run in my family, and don't generally cause any problems, other than comsetic ones, and since I'm unlikely to be wearing a bikini, ummmm, ever, it's not an issue at the moment. He said he could remove it, but it would result in a long ugly scar, and I passed.

With that, he said "Call if you have any problems, and I'll see you." I said "Ok, see me when?". He said "Never, unless you have problems, and we hope that doesn't happen, so no offense, but I hope I don't see you any time soon!".

And that was it. For a moment, I was elated. When I went to check out, the lady at the desk said, "Let's see, when do you need to come back....Oh. You're done. Good." It felt weird not having to schedule any appointments or anything.

In some ways, I'm going to miss them. They'd laugh when I'd call in and say "I have another stupid question". I'll miss their reassuring "That's not a stupid question, actually". I'll miss them in the same kind of demented way I missed the orthopedic ward at Geisinger. I was with them for over a year. It's only been 4 months since I discovered my innie was slowly turning in to an outie.

However, being deemed "fully recovered" is a good feeling too. Onward and upward, and here's hoping I don't have to see the surgeon again any time soon either!

As I Sit Here

2007-02-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

waiting for Nelson to return from work, the question that I'm so often asked runs across my mind: what's your deal with shopping malls?

It's something that I really can't cohesively explain. I'm not a shopaholic. Shopaholics will go anywhere to shop. There are lots of places I try to avoid - Wal-Mart being one of them. Shopping is really the least of my concerns when malling. If I come across something I like, and I have the money, I'll buy it. If not, then not. Often times, I come away without buying anything.

I like to go just to look. I love the architecture. I love the layouts. I love the design. I just love being there. The mall is its' own little unique universe, and I enjoy checking it out.

Don't worry. I've seen the looks before - like the one this entry is probably being given right now. It's nothing new to me, and I'm not offended. I used to hide my love for malls, like some sort of shameful disease. I wasn't a mall chick per se. I didn't go to watch guys or get my nails done. You were more apt to find me in the record store, or the arcade.

I was in my first real mall when I was 3 or 4, with my Uncle. It was somewhere in the Dallas area. He took me for a ride on the escalator. I demanded we go up and down several times. Upon leaving, I wanted to be taken back so I could ride the "eskimo" a little more. I still haven't lived that down. We got our own mall in 1977. I was very disappointed that there were no "eskimos" to be found. It's a smaller one story mall. On my first trip to our mall, when it was brand new, I was so taken by the sights that I walked away from my mom and grandma, and got lost.

Over the years, my affection for malls has not dwindled. I got good at spotting who owned (or formerly owned) a mall just by the look of it. I could spot a Crown American or DeBartolo mall at 20 paces. I also began discovering that little slice of heaven known as a dead mall.

Dead malls come in varying degrees of deadness, and I found my first one when I was preparing to leave for college. My mom was diappoined that the place was a bust, but I was enthralled by the emptiness - the eerieness of the muzak playing, lights and fountains going, and hardly anyone shopping. Dead malling becomes a game after a while. Trying to figure out what store was where, and laughing at attempts to make a go of a former store facade without changing it much. I hid my delight in finding such an establishment. Then came the internet.

One day, someone turned me on to deadmalls.com, and I found out I wasn't alone. There's a vast network of people out there who enjoy doing what I do. I've made a lot of friends through that site, and I proudly proclaim my love of shopping malls.

My name is Railyn........and I'm a mall addict. Hey, it could be worse.

Yes, Life Has It's Ups And Downs

2007-02-02T20:48:00.000-08:00

and I get motion sickness, so this week kind of stank. Thankfully, the cosmic forces smiled on me, and everything seemed to even out in the end.

It's major state and national tournament time at work. Things had been going slowly, and people were getting nervous. "Don't worry" I said. "Things always come around at the last minute". Truer words were never said. So last minute, in fact, that I've got little time to do anything else but make sure that everything is go for the tournaments. Thus, my desk really looks bad - I'm quite embarassed by it. Every day I tell myself that I've got to do something about it, and then it's time to go home before I even realize it.

Everyone is on me about getting stuff out to production. I understand that it's their job, but it's like that part in Office Space where Peter says that every time he screws up a TPS report, he has 8 people coming by to tell him about it. I don't have 8 people, but I find myself repeating the same information over and over again. I don't fault them for checking - it truly takes teamwork to pull this kind of stuff off, but everyone gets tired in the home stretch.

All week long, I wanted to get groceries. Didn't happen Monday. Didn't happen Tuesday - we had a snowstorm. Wednesday? Nelson worked late and was too tired. Didn't happen yesterday either - same thing. Tonight? Snow again..... I'd go on my own, but I'm still on lift restriction, and I can't carry the bags unless I take one at a time - not gonna happen.

All week long, the crazies seemed to crawl out of the woodwork. We were asked the most bizarre questions. I had an upset customer the other morning. I understood why she was upset, but it just went to the next level. Long story short, she accused me of being a "fake company" - one that sits in a basement somewhere stealing credit card numbers. I have a great customer who wanted to place an order, and I just dropped the ball in some ways. I forgot that nothing was shipping with the month being closed, and she was watching and waiting for her tracking numbers. She was very understanding about it, and I told her they'd go today. Then I come to find out that our shipper took the day off. I tracked down the department manager, and he was kind enough to get them out. This morning, I got yelled at by the boss. Never fun. It was an honest "mistake", and we later discussed it and came to an understanding, but the little voice inside me that said I should have stayed in bed today was correct.

On the good side, after years of paying in heavily to the IRS, it appears we may be getting some back - yay! I have to confirm that with the accountant, but I'm a happy camper. It's also looking like that vacation fund we set up was a good idea. We're finally going to be able to travel this year, for the first time in ages (more than just weekend junkets). We've got a few things lined up, including our long-awaited return to Caesar's after a 6 year absence. First up, if everything works out, will be a nice extended weekend in Cleveland to meet up with friends (some coming a great distance) and to do some dead malling with said friends.

I gave in and bought a scale for the house, at Nelson's request. He's tired of running up the road to weigh in. Having it in my house goes against every fiber of my being, but in some ways he's right, and if it keeps him on track (which helps keep me on track) then I'll deal. Sunday is the day to step on it. Yesterday, I thought I'd sneak a peak. I'm sure the neighbors heard my cry of "HOW THE $#$%)(*^ DID I GAIN 5 POUNDS IN 4 DAYS!!!!!?????!!!!!". Now I know better - I'm sure it was fluid or something, but in the early morning psyche of a non-morning person, it makes little difference.

I was feeling pretty bummed today. It was the end of a long week, and the highs and lows were having me pretty drug out. Then Nelson came home and said that he didn't have to do fleet maintenance until Sunday, so did I want to go malling tomorrow - just name the place. I said "How about Park City in Lancaster? Haven't been there in a decade or so." He said "It's not outlets, is it?". I replied that I don't do outlets, and that Park City is a super regional (and not dead) mall - 2nd largest one in the area, out side of King Of Prussia. He said "Let's do it".

And now all is right with the world...... ; )

I Know Someone

2007-01-30T14:06:00.000-08:00

who needs a good swift kick in the rear. In fact, this person is rapidly becoming the poster child for bad behavior, and I find it harder and harder to stand by and watch them destroy everything they have.

It wouldn't be hard for me to put this person down. I'm quite confident that all I would have to do is give them "the look" (arms crossed, head cocked to one side, and and combination of pity and disgust on my face), and spend the next 20 or so minutes telling them not how angry I am, but how disappointed I am in what they've done, and are continuing to do, not only to themselves, but their friends and family as well. I'm also quite confident that after I was done, I could flick my pinkie, and knock them down like a ton of bricks.

So what's stopping me?

Like most people, I have an Inner Bitch. As it's generally unneeded, most of the time it stays hidden away. I don't like to unleash it unless someone is directly threatening or attacking me, my friends, or my family, or is committing some heinous act that demands immediate action. I pride myself on being a decent person, but those who know me well know that I can unleash the fury if I have to. A situation has to get pretty intolerable for me to do that. In some eyes, I can be seen as weak, but I pick my battles. There was a girl I worked with at my previous job that turned cattiness in to an Olympic sport. She took it to the next level, and heaven help you if she didn't like you (and it didn't take much to be added to that list).

On occasion, when her cattiness got too personal, I went to a supervisor, but I largely left her alone......until I left for my current job and had an exit interview. That's when good old IB came out, and rattled off a 7 year long list of offenses. When I was asked why I never mentioned it before, my reply was that I had to work with her every day. What good would it have done to complain about half of it? It would have just made the working environment that much more unbearable. However, now that I no longer have to deal with it, I'd like people to know what she's really all about, and what she's capable of. They took a lot of notes, and did a lot of head shaking, and apologized for years of putting up with it. Problem solved.

Right now, I feel about the same way with this person. Yeah, they need kicked, but I don't think it would serve any purpose just yet. Having walked a few people through programs in my life (including a few that have 12 steps), it's well-known that people have to hit bottom before they are receptive to change. By creating a pseudo-bottom for this person, I don't think I'd be accomplishing anything. They're not there yet, and I don't think what I would say would last much past 15 minutes. This person also suffers from depression at times, and I don't want to throw them in to a bad tailspin that I would be partially responsible for.

It's hard, though, to watch someone you care about sit back and destroy everything they come in contact with. After everyone else has walked away, it's hard to stick around and keep an eye on the situation, so to speak. I understand the motivation to walk away. Heck, some were told to go away. I don't think I've hit that point myself yet, but it may come.

It's pretty bad when my husband tells me he'd rather I not associate with this person anymore. He's very trusting with me in that I have a lot of friends spread out all over, and he's fine with that. It's just that the train wreck that this person's life is becoming is derailing more and more cars, and he's afraid I'll get caught in the momentum and get drug off the tracks too. Yeah, that analogy sucks, but it's all I can come up with. Perhaps it's just better to say that we believe this person has resorted to some scummy tactics, and he'd rather I just have no part of it. I've told him that I'm fully aware of that, and he trusts me to make the correct decision at the correct time.

I'm just watching and waiting for the time being. If the IB and my pinkie finger need to come out, so be it.

Scenes From A Mall

2007-01-25T09:44:00.000-08:00

This is a long article from The Cleveland Plain Dealer last month. It's a good read, and worth it.

Scenes from a mall

A glimmer of hope at Randall Park

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Joanna Connors
Plain Dealer Reporter

Randall Park Mall may be on the endangered list at the Web site deadmalls.com, but it is not dead. Reports of its demise have not been all that exaggerated, but they're not quite true, either.

People talk about Randall Park the way you might talk about minor TV actors of the 1970s. First: "Remember that guy from 'Rockford Files'? You know - that guy. What was his name?" Then: "I heard he died, like, a few years ago."

Back in the '70s, Randall Park Mall was no minor celebrity. It was a star, a superstar, even before it was built. When Youngstown developer Edward DeBartolo Sr. announced in 1973 that he would turn the former Randall Park racetrack into a "shopping-living-entertainment center," the Cleveland Press put the story on Page One, topped by a headline in a type size once reserved for the declaration of war: "LARGEST U.S. MALL DUE HERE."

Three years later, in August 1976, DeBartolo stood at the entrance to his 2.2 million-square-foot mall. Crowds waited. Cameras flashed. Dina Merrill cut the ribbon.

Dina Merrill? Wasn't she an actress or something back in the '60s? Blond? But she's dead now, right?

(For the record: No, Merrill is not dead. But yes: She was an actress. Or something. In 1976, she had guest roles on both "Quincy M.E." and "Hawaii Five-O," but still had to explain to a Cleveland reporter that she was "a working actress.")

That's a useful phrase for anyone: working (blank). Randall Park Mall is not the glamorous star it once was. It has to take bit parts now. But in its new incarnation, something strange and almost hopeful has happened.

The mall stands across from Thistle down race track in North Randall, forlorn as a stray dog. Before we go in - before we pass the concrete planters filled with rainwater, cigarette butts and a floating Diet Pepsi can; before we inhale the aroma of onions and antique grease; before we even consider taking a look at the restrooms - let's take a minute to think about the mall, and America, and What It All Means.

It is hard to defend the mall - any mall, even the mall that has Banana Republic and Restoration Hardware and smells like $150 perfume.

It is harder still to love the mall. It represents everything Americans would like to forget about ourselves; it is the family snapshot that we tear up because it makes us look fat, or shows our nose from the exact wrong angle.

The mall is all about our appetite for stuff, our greedy habit of consuming more than anyone else in the world. It is about our relationship to cars - off the freeway, with plenty of parking! - and our abandonment of our cities. It is about our infantile attention span, our embrace of the artificial, our transformation from a country that makes things to a country that buys things. Things we do not need.

AGGGHHHH! Tear it up! Now! Like J. Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb, Victor Gruen did not mean for his creation to lay waste to civilization. He wanted to save civilization.

Gruen, an Austrian architect who came to the United States in 1938, designed the first fully enclosed shopping mall, Southdale, which opened in 1956 in Edina, Minn., near Minneapolis. After that, nothing was ever the same.

Not being a born-and-bred American, Gruen had the crazy idea that his invention could be about more than just shopping. He was a socialist - in the '50s, in America - who envisioned a place where commerce and community would meet, a utopia of climate-controlled gardens and cafes, shops and living spaces, where we could all just get along.

So, indeed, did DeBartolo (though he was definitely not a socialist). When he announced his plans for Randall Park, he laid out five phases. Phase 1: the Holiday Inn. Phase 2: the mall. Phase 3: a 4,500-seat theater-inthe- round for "the performing arts." Phase 4: four 14-story office towers. Phase 5: high-rise apartment buildings.

Gruen died in 1980, and thus was spared the spectacle of Phase 6: the dead mall. A 2001 study by PricewaterhouseCoopers and the Congress for the New Urbanism came up with a count of 2,076 traditional, enclosed malls, 140 of them stone-cold dead and 249 on life support.

Those figures inspired a Los Angeles competition a few years ago that challenged architects to come up with new uses for the dead malls. One of the entries: a minimum-security women's prison. (Which is what malls always were, anyway, right?) W e are inside Randall Park Mall now, walking through the darkened empty spaces, our footsteps echoing like Gary Cooper's at the end of "High Noon." We pass a row of planters, one with a single green shoot struggling toward the light. We pass the fountains where kids used to throw coins for good luck, dry now, the bright-blue paint peeling. We pass the escalators, unmoving and barricaded.

This mall once had nearly 200 stores and five anchors. Now it has 66, including three anchors:Sears, Macy's and Burlington Coat Factory. The other stores, scattered through the wings, sell flash and youth: urban fashion, nail salons and jewelry shops, almost all of them with banners proclaiming: "We Make Gold Teeth."

It may be hard to love a mall, but it's easy to feel sorry for one. What happened here? Over in the food court, the old folks who have been coming here mornings for 20 years, to walk and drink coffee, name the usual suspects: the "near-riot" of 1992, when an encounter between a couple of white security guards and black teenagers turned into a clash between 50 police and 200 kids. The time in 2002 when a Dillard's security guard beat a suspected shoplifter, who later died. The shooting at the Magic Johnson Theater in 2000.

People in the eastern suburbs started calling it "the black mall." But racial tensions were not the only, or even the primary, culprit. More dazzling malls opened, farther out. Wal-Mart and Target took departmentstore business. The unsteady economy of recent years took its toll.

Robert Young, who is 96 years old, holds court at a long table while Mamie Giles passes around a plate of homemade cookies. His theory: "It was the young hoodlums." The hoodlums don't show upso much anymore, after the mall beefed up security. There was a robbery at Kay Jewelers a fewweeks ago; the guy stole a diamond.

Still, Young and his friends feel safe; they keep coming. "I just come out for a couple of hours to keep from staying home," Young says, but if you sit with him and his friends for a while, or walk past the jewelry shops into the shadowy wing that once ended at Higbee's, you might see something else - something more hopeful struggling toward the light like that slender green plant.

There's Pulse, a fitness center, where co-owner Barbara Board counts out killer crunches for one client - "23! C'mon! Give me 24!" - while co-owner Patrice McKinney tells another that she'll never lose weight or build muscle if she skips breakfast.

Across the way, kids with backpacks head into classes at North Coast Academy, a charter school. Next door, Church 'N the Mall is quiet, but come Sunday you'll hear the drums and electric guitar backing the gospel choir.

At the other end of the mall, next to Sears, Cleveland Merchant Music Family just opened a month ago, with recording and dance studios, classrooms and a pool table. Like Gruen before them, director William Lynch and CEO Barbara Coffer-Bell are dreaming big, utopian dreams: of a place where parents, children and grandparents make music together, where kids come after school to learn to be electricians, or poets.

Over at his jewelry kiosk, 33-year-old Yuri Poklyak, who came over from the Ukraine at 18, is at first confused when asked what he thinks of the mall's reputation for having racial troubles. "Race? You mean the Pakistanis and the Indians?" he asks, looking around at the shopkeepers: Muslims and Hindus, Sikhs and Jews, Russians and Vietnamese and Koreans.

"Back home, nobody would be friends," Poklyak says. He does not see Randall Park as a place where racism divides people. "Business at the mall made everybody peaceful. It's a perfect world here, a neighborhood," he says.

Maybe he's onto something.

Randall Park certainly isn't the mall that anyone envisioned when Merrill cut the ribbon in 1976.

But maybe it is becoming the mall that Gruen envisioned in 1956.

What makes a community?

When Americans were settling the West during the Gold Rush, three things made a camp into a town: a church, a school and a saloon. Randall has those - if you count the food court as a kind of dry saloon. You can even catch a card game there.

The towns had outlaws and sheriffs, immigrant shopkeepers and shoppers, old-timers and kids. As for the gold that brought them all together, Randall has that too.

"We Make Gold Teeth." And so America reinvents itself, once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This all started with a friend sharing a video that had footage of 3 dead malls in it - Randall Park was the 2nd mall of the three. I couldn't believe the footage - the emptiness. I had planned on paying a visit when I was supposed to be in the area last August. That trip never materialized, and maybe it's for the best, as seeing that in person would have been sad indeed.

It's no secret to most who know me that I'm a mallrat. I love malls. I also have a strange affinity for dead malls. This mall, however, was not dead by a long shot when I hung out there in the early 90's. Spent a lot of time there with my then-boyfriend-now-husband. The first time we held hands was there. The first gift he ever bought me came from the Things Remembered there. As it dies, a part of me dies with it in some way.

Retail Centers have come full circle. They started out as open air plazas, then came the indoor mall in the late 1950's. Now, everyone wants open air centers again.

For me, and many of my generation, we have an affinity for indoor malls. They were a destination. They were a place to meet and greet. A place to network. A safe place to hang out. Malls were once thoughtfully designed, and had beautiful architecture. Now they are a stale, bland, sterile environment.

I was discussing this topic, and the decline of Randall Park with a co-worker and fellow mallrat. He had this to say, and it's better than anything else I can say:

Very sad. Not just because they are so vacant, but because online buying has put an end to one thing that I (and I'm sure you) hold dear from the 70's
and 80's, and that is the mall.
It used to be a major Friday night event, where me and my friends would meet and "hangout" for HOURS! Oh, the arcades and just the feeling that you had a safe place to go.
I love malls, as does most of our generation. The architecture in that video is priceless and should be preserved. I remember the same "feel" at the York mall and Park City.
There should be a law that keeps iconic malls in place. It is a sad commentary on what the computer age has done to personal interaction. Ironic that the most popular place to buy a computer in the mid 80's was...the Mall!

Blast From The Past

2007-01-22T08:36:00.000-08:00

I had been discussing this with a friend, and managed to find a copy. It's in two pieces, unfortunately, but given the rarity of it, it'll do. I have a number of things around on old VHS, but I have no clue where they are at this time. I saw this performed live, and it was hilarious! Enjoy:

Thought Provoking TV

2007-01-18T10:57:00.000-08:00

It's a compelling story. It's also gruesome. It's the story of Jim Jones, and Jonestown.

I have no idea why I find this so very fascinating, but I do. Cult leaders in general just fascinate me. Don't get me wrong - I do not condone what they do in any way, shape, or form, but we studied serial killers and cult leaders in Abnormal Psych, and I am just absolutely riveted at their ability to get inside of people's heads and make them blindly follow. The mindset and methodology that they use is amazing, as many are uneducated or learning disabled, but will hatch elaborate plans. The scholar in me just can't turn away - I have to know more about this. I need to analyze it. I need to find out what went wrong and why, in the hopes that in the future, people like this can be caught or stopped.

I don't know why Jones just rivets me. Like others, he started out with good intentions, and for all appearances, enjoyed the power that came with it, and power can and often does corrupt. Combine that with mental instability and rampant drug use, and it's a powder keg that will eventually blow up and take a lot of innocent people with it. I know I'm not alone. Almost 30 years later, they're still talking and analyzing. In a demented way, he's probably somewhere (albeit very warm) enjoying that people still talk about him.

Lately, there's been a number of specials on television about Jones, The Peoples Temple, and Jonestown. Most are documentaries, and analyze what happened. The fact that Jones filmed or recorded most of what he did makes it easy to reconstruct a lot of what happened, but other things, like how many people willfully took the poison and how many resisted and were injected will never be known. In the end, it doesn't really matter. There are 908 people - 300 of them children - who gave their life either voluntarily or involuntarily for this man, and nothing will bring them back.

Earlier this week, I taped a special that aired on The History Channel called "Jonestown: Paradise Lost". I watched it last night. It was two hours long, and differed from the others in that it combined interviews, and used recreated footage, reconstructed with eyewitness testimony and actual footage. The actors did a good job, and there were some different viewpoints presented from other shows I've seen. This was the first time that I had heard Jim's son speak. He was not at Jonestown that day. His father demanded his return, but he refused, as he saw his father as having gone over the edge, and knew something bad was happening. He provided some fascinating insight in to the whole situation, and his father.

For anyone who is interested in this piece of history, I highly recommend this show. The History Channel is airing it again January 20 at 8pm EST, January 21 at 12am EST, and January 27 at 5pm EST. I would not recommend viewing for the squeamish, or anyone under the age of 15 or so.

A Good Cure For The Winter Blahs

2007-01-17T09:05:00.000-08:00

Although I've been familiar with this guy's website for years, I had missed this little gem until someone turned me on to it a while back.

It's just too good to not share the love. Those who don't have a touch of off-beat in their sense of humor may not find it as absolutely hilarious as I do, but it's really worth a look:

http://www.lileks.com/institute/gallery/partycake/index.html

While the April entry is really funny, my favorite one doesn't have a month assigned to it. You'll find it between August and September.

Check it out, and enjoy!

The Mind Is A Terrible Thing

2007-01-09T13:03:00.000-08:00

When it's as overactive as mine is. Mix in that I've got a bad cold, and am 2 weeks post-op, and it's not a good thing at all.

I was feeling mighty fine up until Sunday. I started feeling a bit run down, and had a lot of post-nasal drip. Last night, the throat got a little sore. This morning, full-on throat pain - very raw and sore. Is there much worse than a sore throat? It's minor compared to other stuff, but the annoyance and pain make it one of the most miserable things to deal with, and there's not much that can be done for them.

I'm not a hypochondriac. Really, I'm not. My fear is the unknown. I'm also impatient.

I started on with some strange stomach "pain" (minor but just there enough to be annoying) the other day, and was a bit freaked out by it. It came and went, and the doctor did tell me that miscellaneous aches and pains would be perfectly normal if they stayed in certain boundaries, and this did. Today, it's back, and it's changed location. I have some soreness of the area - like a bruise. My mind runs wild. Then I have to take a deep breath and realize that it's only 2 weeks since my stomach was cut open, a foreign body (in the form of reinforcing for the weakened area) was inserted, part of my body was "disposed" of, and I was stitched back up again. I feel so good otherwise and bounced back so quick that I demand of myself that I shouldn't be feeling this way. Then I panic. Having the cold on top of it, I'm sure, doesn't help the "achiness" any better.

I did realize that I haven't had enough to drink today, and that is cause for concern, but it's so darn hard with this sore throat. Ironically, staying hydrated is good for a sore throat, but tell my raw throat that. Perhaps it will stop the pain long enough for me to get rehydrated. Not likely, but you never know. I think I need some hot tea.

I have to resist the urge at least once a week to phone the surgeon regarding any number of miscellaneous things. My next appointment is on 2/5 to check a Seroma I developed, which may or may not have to be aspirated (either via needle or incision), which just brings up a whole new set of neuroses. I'm just trying to hang until then. Perhaps I need to find a nice rock to crawl under. Then again, I'd just develop some new miscellaneous pain, and crawl back out again, so I guess I'll just hang, and give the doctor a break. ; )

Since When Is This News??

2007-01-05T09:15:00.000-08:00

I booted up Internet Explorer at work to search for a phone number. The headline read "Trey Anastasio arraigned on drug charge".

Who??????????

And so it goes again. More space cluttered up for mindless updates of the goings on in the Celebrity world. I had to google that name to find out that he was once with the group Pfish. I know little about them, but what I do know tells me that this charge should come as no surprise.

Apparently I'm not the only one who is fed up with being bombarded with the constant barrage of celebrity updates everywhere I turn, yet it continues in full force. Every time I turn on the tv, every time I stand in line at the supermarket, and every time I boot up IE, there it is, staring me in the face. I don't care that Lindsay Lohan needs an appendectomy. I don't care that Nicole may be back with DJ AM again. The fact that I even know those names scares me.

Don't get me wrong. I am a fan of some people - actors, musicians, etc. When I was a teenager, I bought Tiger Beat and whatnot, but mainly for the pictures. I always found the articles mind-numbing. Case in point: I have a complete collection of New Kids On The Block trading cards - both series - hold your comments please - you were once 15 too. They come with such interesting factoids as "Joey likes Cheeseburgers" and "Jonathan likes girls who respect their parents". It's nothing new. My 1967 Monkees trading cards tell about how they love french fries and the like.

What slays me is how you just can't get away from it any more. It's constantly in your face. Time was that if you didn't want to hear about it, you just didn't watch stuff like Entertainment Tonight or didn't buy tabloids. Now it's in the local newspaper, on the local news, and I can't seem to get away from it. I know that every generation has scandals, but since when is the fact that actress "a" is divorcing actor "b" because they have a nasty online porn addiction breaking news of any importance? How about helping real people - everyday schmoes - who are addicted to bad things? Everyone cares that Nicole Ritchie has a drug addiction, but how about my late Uncle, who struggled all his life? No one shed a tear for him. Unwilling to saddle his family with funeral costs, he donated his body to science. Who was there to help him? Most certainly not Paris Hilton......

I was pleased to see celebrity name combinations was on the most recent list of stuff that should be banned from the English Language. I once had the misfortune of helping to try and moderate a forum largely populated by teenagers, which was for a tv show. The talk was always "Who do you like better: Cranny, Crashley, Spaige, Pemma, Jaitlin, or Jiberty?" . It got so they'd argue over what was the best way to conglomerate names, and they finally demanded a FAQ be pinned with the "accepted" name conglomerations. Needless to say I did not last long there. Then again, some of these kids thought that "Growing Up Gotti" was a great show to provide role models for them. Yes, they actually said that.

To the people who just can't get enough of Tomkat: please pay a little more attention to your own life and perhaps we won't be bombarded with so much from theirs. Hey - I can always dream, can't I?

I'm Not Much Of A Fan

2007-01-01T14:34:00.001-08:00

of holiday-type music. I'm a music fanatic, and I'll listen to most anything, but I find most holiday music to be too archaic, repetetive (Twelve Days Of Christmas, anyone?), depressing (anyone ever hear Christmas In Jail, or Spending Christmas With Jesus?), or just inane (I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas - shame on you Paul McCartney!). Yeah, yeah - I've heard it all before, and I assure you, I'm not a Scrooge. Not in the least. I just have no desire to sing carols or join in another rousing chorus of Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer. That's not to say I don't like some holiday songs. I rather enjoy Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses, or Do They Know It's Christmas? by Band Aid (Duran Duran - nuff said).

Among the handful that I do enjoy, you will find Happy Christmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon. I know it's a protest song, but I really like the message it conveys - anti-war sentiment aside (and don't ask me for my opinion on the current conflict - I refuse to discuss it with most people). I was thinking of that song today (it usually gets me bleary-eyed). Every year I find myself echoing "And so this is Christmas, and what have you done? Another year over, and a new one just begun." Then the annual inventory starts. So what have I done in the past year? I've taken in a few concerts. The CDB show last month was good. Charlie was a doll, as usual. Reminds me that even though I'm not in to country music, I'm willing to try something new and I give respect to raw talent. I got to see John Valby again in February. I know he's not most people's cup of tea, but how we laughed, and not a moment too soon - literally on the way to the show, we got the results of Nelson's biopsy, and it wasn't great news. I'm thankful that we caught it early, and the cancer is gone. We took Brenda along, and that reminds me that I have good friends, and that means so much.

Speaking of friends, I got to travel this year. Took my first trip to the Chicago area, to meet up with some new friends I made. The hours we spent lost trying to find the museum were just as fun as if we would have actually made it. Never underestimate the amusement value of conversation! I made two runs to Virginia to meet up with friends old and new. We were blessed with another baby in the family, and I got to see her for the first time on one of those trips. I'm thankful for all my friends, who were there through good times and not-so-good times to help me through. I'll never be able to pay that back, but I can try. Conversely, I've had to let go of a few friendships, and that has hurt, but life, like people, moves on.

We were blessed with a new, better-paying job for Nelson, and I continue to have a good job that I enjoy. We were able to pay off some bills, and inch a little more out of the hole we got in 10 years ago. I contributed time and money to various efforts and charities, because I believe in giving back. So as this new year begins, looking back on my year, I think that I've done a lot, and certainly some things of consequence.

Had the traditional pork and sauerkraut dinner up at mom and dad's today. Grammy decided to join us. We're fortunate to still have her, but I do grow more concerned every time I see her. She still gets around fairly well, despite her spine curvature and the fact that one leg is now shorter than the other. Her mind, unfortunately, is not what it used to be.

At first, she was forgetting things and repeating things, but not too badly. I would always say that I hoped when I got to be 86 that people would cut me slack any time that someone would mention it. Dad takes her out every Saturday for groceries and for lunch, and he said that he has been a little more worried about her, but it would serve no purpose to force her out of her home - we'd just be hastening the inevitable. My cousin mentioned to me that Grammy couldn't remember her two young daughters names. She kept calling the baby by the first name of another cousins daughter (they are similar, and start with the same letter). She told my cousin and her husband that it was nice that they came up from Texas for Thanksgiving - they have never lived in Texas. No one in the family currently lives there, though my dad and his brother have in the past.

I brushed it off - we all have bad days. Today, however, I really began to notice. She couldn't remember the name of my uncle's youngest daughter. She kept confusing her with the oldest. They all live in Oklahoma. We called down to talk to them. He told us that she was trying to show her older son how to skateboard (the skateboard was his birthday present) and the board went out from in under her, and she broke her leg - badly. Almost as badly as I did. Grammy had literally just handed the phone off, and she had already forgotten what happened to her, and then whom it happened to.

She then asked me if I had watched Gerald Ford's funeral. I said no, we weren't home. She then said that he had been the president in the 1930's. Nelson said "No, grammy, he was president in the 1970's - remember?". Then she said that she was confusing him with someone else. We were watching the Penn State/TN game, which took place in Tampa Bay, and Grammy made a comment about how nice Penn State's football stadium was, and that she liked their Pirate ship. Normally, I'd let that slide, as Grammy isn't a football fanatic, but "TAMPA BAY" was plastered all over the place, let alone that Tampa Bay looks nothing like State College. PSU is also not the Buccaneers (also plastered all over the place), don't use the skull and crossbones, and their colors aren't copper and red.

My cousin gave me a picture of me, Grammy, and my late Pappy for Christmas, which I love. It was on Pappy's birthday, 1977, making me all of 3 1/2. They both looked so young in that picture. That's the Grammy that I think I always have in my mind - she was younger in that picture than my mom is now. Looking at Grammy now is hard. She still looks like Grammy (albeit a little older), but it's like Grammy just isn't there anymore. As hard as it is, I'm going to really put forth the effort to spend more time with her (more than just my monthly visits where we bring supper - it's just not enough anymore), because the time we have left where she even knows who I am may be drawing short.

To all my friends, I leave you with John Lennon's final thought from Happy Christmas - "A very Merry Christmas (or whatever you believe), and a happy new year. Let's hope it's a good one, without any fear".

Fluid Advice

2006-12-30T18:15:00.000-08:00

****I wrote this on 12/25, but I was having connection problems (still in the stone age and on dial-up) and I forgot to post it****

Drink your fluids. It's very good advice. It's even more important if you're sick, as I've unfortunately found out.

I felt great on Saturday. One day post-op, and I was out shopping. I made mom pick out her own present (or part of it) with a clever ruse. She changed her mind twice. She ultimately picked something I would not have, so I'm glad.

Yesterday, however, was a different story. In the interest of TMI, I was having a common post-op complication. One that was listed on my discharge papers. The time had come that I needed to give this normal body function a helping hand.

I wasn't feeling well to begin with. I didn't know there was a nasty virus going around. I reluctantly did what I needed to do (using something the doctors office gave me a few weeks earlier). Nothing happened, and as the day went on, I felt increasingly worse. I decided to curl up in the recliner and take a nap.

I thought a hot shower might help, and that was the first day I was allowed. Nelson removed the packing, which was on with nasty harsh tape. It took half the skin off my stomach. I howled. I'm a wuss to begin with, and this pain was immense. The shower felt good, but I didn't. Then the stuff finally kicked in - with a vengance. My condition worsened.

We were getting ready for the 7pm church service. I had spoken to Missy - she and her husband Dave are friends of ours and fellow board game collectors/enthusiasts; he teaches our Sunday School class, and she and I share a stand in bell choir - and told her I'd see her there on Friday. All of a sudden I couldn't swallow. I tried to take a pill with water, and coughed it back up. I paniced.

Nelson was in the shower. I made it back to the bathroom and told him I needed to go to the ER right away. He got dressed and ran me to the nearest hospital, which is one I am not fond of, but if I go to the other two they will not call my doctor if needed because he's not on staff. I went to that ER 2 weeks prior, and got a jerk doctor who treated me like garbage.

I'm happy to say that everyone was great on this occasion. I got nervous when the triage nurse put a 3 (out of 4) as my urgency on the screen. All kinds of things rush through the crazed mindset - bloodclot, internal bleeding, hemorage - terrible stuff.

A very nice ER doctor came over and she asked me a series of questions. She took one look at me and said "You are severly dehydrated. I'll get you on an IV and you should start to feel better." Not what I wanted to hear. I still looked like swiss cheese from the numerous failed IV attempts from the surgery. She told me I had no choice. I must get an IV, or I'd risk kidney failure and other nasty stuff.

I had a very nice nurse try twice, and failed. I heard her talking to the doctor - from the dehydration, my already deep and poor veins had collapsed. I am needlephobic, and was on the verge of hysteria. They brought in another lady who listened to me, and put the IV in my arm. She got 6 tubes of blood at the same time. She told me that she really only needed 4, but she got the blood flowing and took the extra 2 in case they needed to run more tests. I told her that was good thinking.

Two and a half hours, and one bag of fluid later, I was feeling better. I was even hungry. They warned me that the after effects last 24 hours, and I might feel poorly the next day, and I sure did. I fought all day long to stay as upbeat as possible, but it wasn't easy. By the time we needed to go to my Uncle's house, I was running on fumes, but I wanted to see my little cousins open their presents, so I muddled through.

**Post-thought: I drank over 100 oz of water that day, and by the next day I was feeling about 80%. It's gotten better every day, and I make sure that I'm fully hydrated. It's cold and flu season - please be sure to keep drinking - it's important!

I've Lost Something....

2006-12-22T16:36:00.000-08:00

I know what you're thinking. I haven't lost my mind - not totally anyway. I've also not lost my decency or common sense. Nope, it's a little more near and dear to me.

I've lost my belly button.

How did I get here? It's not hard. I had an umbilical hernia. In the interest of TMI, I'll spare the details. Today, in the operating room, the doctor said "How attached are you to your belly button?". I said "not really". He said "Ok - it's gone". Just like that.

I'm not upset or anything. After birth, the belly button is pretty much useless. It collects lint, and whatnot, but that's a service I really don't need anymore.

I haven't seen it yet. It's hidden under dressings that must stay on until Sunday. It's just going to be weird to see it gone.

Does this mean I'm an alien now? :O