8.07.2007
It's new and "improved"
No, you aren't going crazy. Yes, the look of ye ole' venting page has changed. Comment and let me know what you think of the new look!
First there was the iPod...
then the iPod shuffle...then the iPod flea.
Now we have the iPhone, and the newest in the iFamily, the iPhone Shuffle!
Mom, I want this and the iPod flea for Christmas.
...and for those who are more business-minded,
we find this. Yes, it's been around a while, but it's so true!!! (and a big GRR to Google--it wouldn't link the video!)
Merger video
Merger video
Calling all musicians
So I know that those of you who spend multitudes of your time talking/texting/being otherwise entertained by yours truly have already seen this. Even then, it's been on my mind and therefore worthy of another mention.
I've been saying this for years, and it's truly amazing to me that there is another out there who agrees!
8.06.2007
My cross-eyed bear*
I know that I have several crosses to bear, but the one that drives me the most nuts is not QB (surprise), it is Organgrinder. QB gets the most time of my life, and therefore the most interest, but Organgrinder packs the punches in the small time she is allotted. I've never written of her exploits, but they are pervasive in my life and strewn throughout the last several years. Here is the history and most recent Organgrinder story to perk up your Monday. (Perk = it didn't happen to you.)
Organgrinder is a newly-turned 86-year-old church musician who has been playing in my particular church since around the time Christ was born (she doesn't need to sing the Christmas cantata--she was evicted from the barn so that the manger could be taken through the first-ever recorded case of eminent domain).
Throughout her time on this earth, she has taken a cumulative total of approximately 1.743 years of music lessons. As in on any instrument--not organgrinder lessons. Which means that in her whole life, she has had lessons for approximately 90 days. (Assuming the normal one lesson per week teaching method)...which means that for one day for each year of her life, she has spent a little time learning about how to be a better musician. I hate to be a snob, but Christ on a crutch! That's a pretty low bar to clear.
I know that she knows she's inept, just unable to vocalize the sentiment. Every time that Herr Preacher publicly thanks the musicians during service, Capellmeister and I nod thoughtfully and park ourselves back on the pew/piano bench. Organgrinder, however, springs from her bench (as much as a fake hip allows), makes her way to the microphone to give her thanks and acceptance speech. The speech never fails to please. It always begins with, "Well, I know I'm not as good a musician as Clarinazi, but..." and it always encompasses her ~2 years of music lessons (as if that's an accomplishment?!?) and her gratitude for being allowed to be the half-cent organgrinder for the blessed congregants.
Organgrinder's instrument is (forcibly) made to sound like something that would *grace* a funeral parlor. Sometimes it is even more audible, and those times are practically cringe-worthy since the music is (still) unidentifiable due to the music lesson crisis noted above. After services, several congregants have approached me, and asked in a stage whisper, "Clarinazi, do you know what the offertory was?" Uh, yeah? It was the sound of two blue whales humping?
Organgrinder finds our praise band rather contentious. Anything the praise band does, whether good or bad, earns the next-to-highest shrieking on record. Of particular shriekyness is my mere existence. It seems that the bulk of her wrath is aimed toward yours truly, and when I play with the praise band, watch out world. Last weekend she didn't even wait for the congregation to absent itself before throwing her purse at the youth minister (the singer du jour) and shrieking like a banshee about how the guitars were too loud, punctuating her outburst with staccato heel clicks as she limped ass in retreat. Um, excuse me, but it was a ROCK tune...and all that implies. I'm not a normal fan of loud obnoxious music, and I liked this since it was well-blended, etc. Even if you don't like it, which is your right, you do NOT have a right to castigate other staff publicly (or anyone else, for that matter).
So, needless to say, Organgrinder and I are not bosom buddies. She's generally nice to me as long as we are not in the sanctuary, but even this nicety takes me aback. This said, let us talk about yesterday.
Cappellmeister and I (along with the rest of the worship committee--that includes Organgrinder, though she NEVER attends) decided to once again attempt to get the congregants to sing during Communion. Not a lot to ask, and we figured if we did only the first verses to songs they know, we'd get a good response. To fill the rest of the time, I'd do an improv/half-scored bit on whatever the song of the moment happened to be. Herr Preacher had nicely put a copy of the first hymn changes and the lead sheet (sans chords) for the Communion music on the organ, with a note that if Organgrinder wished to have the score for the Communion music, it was on the piano with her name on it. She did not take the bait, and after services concluded yesterday, went apeshit on Cappellmeister for the oversight. (Um, excuse me, but what does the Cap have to do with you being inept?!?) Capellmeister told her that if she had a problem with the instrumental stuff to talk to me since that was my domain (go Cap!), but by the time I had finished jamming on the sending forth song, Organgrinder was nowhere to be found. Excellent.
Is it just me or if you look at the bulletin on Saturday (when she practices) and notice that things are not as expected, wouldn't you CALL SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT?!? But alas, she just chastises us in public and pays a visit upon Herr Preacher come Monday. Next time that crazy broad says anything to me in a raised voice with anyone else around, shit will fly. I warned Herr Preacher the last time something like this happened (a couple months ago, she hit me in the chest with a book she chunked at me since I didn't tell her that the bells were playing for the pre-offertory or some such...I drew a line in the sand with Herr Preacher followed by "her or me.")
Damn. Now I'm all riled up and don't have anywhere to go to punch someone. I'm fairly certain that if I'd take myself belowstairs, QB wouldn't appreciate it.
*a veiled reference to Alanis Morisette...'and the "cross-eyed bear" you gave to me'...
Organgrinder is a newly-turned 86-year-old church musician who has been playing in my particular church since around the time Christ was born (she doesn't need to sing the Christmas cantata--she was evicted from the barn so that the manger could be taken through the first-ever recorded case of eminent domain).
Throughout her time on this earth, she has taken a cumulative total of approximately 1.743 years of music lessons. As in on any instrument--not organgrinder lessons. Which means that in her whole life, she has had lessons for approximately 90 days. (Assuming the normal one lesson per week teaching method)...which means that for one day for each year of her life, she has spent a little time learning about how to be a better musician. I hate to be a snob, but Christ on a crutch! That's a pretty low bar to clear.
I know that she knows she's inept, just unable to vocalize the sentiment. Every time that Herr Preacher publicly thanks the musicians during service, Capellmeister and I nod thoughtfully and park ourselves back on the pew/piano bench. Organgrinder, however, springs from her bench (as much as a fake hip allows), makes her way to the microphone to give her thanks and acceptance speech. The speech never fails to please. It always begins with, "Well, I know I'm not as good a musician as Clarinazi, but..." and it always encompasses her ~2 years of music lessons (as if that's an accomplishment?!?) and her gratitude for being allowed to be the half-cent organgrinder for the blessed congregants.
Organgrinder's instrument is (forcibly) made to sound like something that would *grace* a funeral parlor. Sometimes it is even more audible, and those times are practically cringe-worthy since the music is (still) unidentifiable due to the music lesson crisis noted above. After services, several congregants have approached me, and asked in a stage whisper, "Clarinazi, do you know what the offertory was?" Uh, yeah? It was the sound of two blue whales humping?
Organgrinder finds our praise band rather contentious. Anything the praise band does, whether good or bad, earns the next-to-highest shrieking on record. Of particular shriekyness is my mere existence. It seems that the bulk of her wrath is aimed toward yours truly, and when I play with the praise band, watch out world. Last weekend she didn't even wait for the congregation to absent itself before throwing her purse at the youth minister (the singer du jour) and shrieking like a banshee about how the guitars were too loud, punctuating her outburst with staccato heel clicks as she limped ass in retreat. Um, excuse me, but it was a ROCK tune...and all that implies. I'm not a normal fan of loud obnoxious music, and I liked this since it was well-blended, etc. Even if you don't like it, which is your right, you do NOT have a right to castigate other staff publicly (or anyone else, for that matter).
So, needless to say, Organgrinder and I are not bosom buddies. She's generally nice to me as long as we are not in the sanctuary, but even this nicety takes me aback. This said, let us talk about yesterday.
Cappellmeister and I (along with the rest of the worship committee--that includes Organgrinder, though she NEVER attends) decided to once again attempt to get the congregants to sing during Communion. Not a lot to ask, and we figured if we did only the first verses to songs they know, we'd get a good response. To fill the rest of the time, I'd do an improv/half-scored bit on whatever the song of the moment happened to be. Herr Preacher had nicely put a copy of the first hymn changes and the lead sheet (sans chords) for the Communion music on the organ, with a note that if Organgrinder wished to have the score for the Communion music, it was on the piano with her name on it. She did not take the bait, and after services concluded yesterday, went apeshit on Cappellmeister for the oversight. (Um, excuse me, but what does the Cap have to do with you being inept?!?) Capellmeister told her that if she had a problem with the instrumental stuff to talk to me since that was my domain (go Cap!), but by the time I had finished jamming on the sending forth song, Organgrinder was nowhere to be found. Excellent.
Is it just me or if you look at the bulletin on Saturday (when she practices) and notice that things are not as expected, wouldn't you CALL SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT IT?!? But alas, she just chastises us in public and pays a visit upon Herr Preacher come Monday. Next time that crazy broad says anything to me in a raised voice with anyone else around, shit will fly. I warned Herr Preacher the last time something like this happened (a couple months ago, she hit me in the chest with a book she chunked at me since I didn't tell her that the bells were playing for the pre-offertory or some such...I drew a line in the sand with Herr Preacher followed by "her or me.")
Damn. Now I'm all riled up and don't have anywhere to go to punch someone. I'm fairly certain that if I'd take myself belowstairs, QB wouldn't appreciate it.
*a veiled reference to Alanis Morisette...'and the "cross-eyed bear" you gave to me'...
8.03.2007
Facebook is addictive
So I joined facebook around 6:30 or so tonight, and I'm still hangin' out there...damn, it's like the meth of the internet!
How do these people find me?
In everyone's life there are a few people who seem a few fries short of a Happy Meal. While these people are the spice of life, most people's cronies are "normal" by general population standards. It seems that in this measure, I am abnormal as well.
I am abnormal because I'm not. Most everyone else around me is certifiable. There are a handful of less-crazy people (I wouldn't say that anyone that spends time with me is COMPLETELY average due to their buddy choices), but today, there are an esteemed few who take the cake (WHERE?!?*). The one that comes immediately to mind is Nutcase Knight.
Nutcase Knight is Sir Knight's ex-spouse. As the name implies, she is almost beyond certifiable. I can't even remember all the shit she's stirred up since my Slugdom began, but the circumstances are always a bit illogical (ok, a whole-freakin-lot illogical) and mostly contrived. Let us begin the story with the Knight family roll call, as I'm sure it will come in handy later:
Sir Knight (SK). The boss we all know and presumably love.
Nutcase Knight (NK). The boss's ex-harridan who still makes his life hell 25 years after the divorce decree was written, and the offspring were removed from her custody.
Baby Boy Knight (BBK). The son. The elder child, lives in Asia. Incredibly wealthy. Deals with NK by telling SK to get her a one-way ticket to see him...and he'd send her on vacation. Permanently.
Baby Girl Knight (BGK). The daughter. The younger child, lives in that awful state to the south. Incredibly smart. Married a man who is beyond incredibly wealthy. Just had a sprog (Cutie Knight (CK)) a few months ago that is whoa-fully spoiled (all her onesies are Ralph Lauren cashmere).
Those are the players. ...and there's the bell.
So to start off this edition of the fandamntastic story, about ten years or so ago Nutcase Knight thought that she was being stalked (why would anyone bother?!?) by someone who was sending her postal mail (In the words of Dave: what were they going to do--mail her a bullet?) and hence decided to move from our esteemed city to the state to the south to be closer to BGK since BBK told her not to bother. After residing in the state from hell for a while, she began getting phone calls. As in 300 a day (by her count)...that the person on the other end of the line would call, breathe for a bit, and hang up. Freaked, she decided to move back to our esteemed city. So she "lives" in an apartment on the north side...never leaves since she can't drive, she's afraid to fly, and is generally dependent on anyone who will feel sorry for her. Her phone only makes outgoing calls, so if the world ends and she needs to know, you must email her. (She's never even seen the grandkid...because she can't afford a cab to Houston.)
She sits all day looking out the window and looking at her arms (she thinks there's something wrong with them). No shit. Seriously. All day. Looking at her arms. When she's feeling neglected, she calls Sir Knight at the office. This is where I come in.
NK: Is Sir Knight in? (She always uses both names. Always. That's how I know it's her.)
Me: I'm not sure. I think he stepped out for a bit. Can I take a message?
NK: Do you know when he'll be back?
Me: (thinking "Well for you, the Tuesday after never. Or maybe April 31. Whichever is later.") No. I'm not really sure...can I take a message?
NK: No. I'll just call his cell phone.
Me: He must not have gone far since he left his cell on his desk. (hint, hint)
NK: "Click."
SK's cell: Ring! Ring! .... Ring! Ring!
...a moment of silence...
Office phone: Ring! Ring!
Me: Slugdom, this is Clarinazi, can i help you?
NK: Is Sir Knight in?
Me: No. He's stepped out of his office for a moment...
So Tuesday, she calls and wants Sir Knight to let her move into his house until the newly-discovered mold in her house is killed. He agrees to let her stay during the day on Wednesday since she had called SK's sister (whose husband has thrown her out of their house after a "short" two-week stay--another post entirely) and SK will be away anyway. She leaves seven voice mails on SK's cell on Tuesday to remind him to turn on the television so that she won't be bored and lonely while he is at work and she doesn't know how to work the remote, so he also needs to turn the volume down so that she can nap.
This morning, she's still there. She calls around 11:00 to let SK know that they're not done with the mold removal (and now it's in the a/c and the carpet), so she would be staying a "little" longer. He told her that he had a date coming for dinner, so she needed to be gone by 6:00. She told him that she didn't know if she could manage that, so he went to get her a hotel room...I haven't seen him since.
God have mercy on his soul. He deserves it. No wonder why he won't marry the girlfriend.
*OK, you know the reference. I KNOW you do. You wouldn't let me down by not knowing Carlin would you?
Carlin, from the "phrases that piss me off" skit: "He takes the cake. WHERE? Down to the deli to see the other cakes?"
I am abnormal because I'm not. Most everyone else around me is certifiable. There are a handful of less-crazy people (I wouldn't say that anyone that spends time with me is COMPLETELY average due to their buddy choices), but today, there are an esteemed few who take the cake (WHERE?!?*). The one that comes immediately to mind is Nutcase Knight.
Nutcase Knight is Sir Knight's ex-spouse. As the name implies, she is almost beyond certifiable. I can't even remember all the shit she's stirred up since my Slugdom began, but the circumstances are always a bit illogical (ok, a whole-freakin-lot illogical) and mostly contrived. Let us begin the story with the Knight family roll call, as I'm sure it will come in handy later:
Sir Knight (SK). The boss we all know and presumably love.
Nutcase Knight (NK). The boss's ex-harridan who still makes his life hell 25 years after the divorce decree was written, and the offspring were removed from her custody.
Baby Boy Knight (BBK). The son. The elder child, lives in Asia. Incredibly wealthy. Deals with NK by telling SK to get her a one-way ticket to see him...and he'd send her on vacation. Permanently.
Baby Girl Knight (BGK). The daughter. The younger child, lives in that awful state to the south. Incredibly smart. Married a man who is beyond incredibly wealthy. Just had a sprog (Cutie Knight (CK)) a few months ago that is whoa-fully spoiled (all her onesies are Ralph Lauren cashmere).
Those are the players. ...and there's the bell.
So to start off this edition of the fandamntastic story, about ten years or so ago Nutcase Knight thought that she was being stalked (why would anyone bother?!?) by someone who was sending her postal mail (In the words of Dave: what were they going to do--mail her a bullet?) and hence decided to move from our esteemed city to the state to the south to be closer to BGK since BBK told her not to bother. After residing in the state from hell for a while, she began getting phone calls. As in 300 a day (by her count)...that the person on the other end of the line would call, breathe for a bit, and hang up. Freaked, she decided to move back to our esteemed city. So she "lives" in an apartment on the north side...never leaves since she can't drive, she's afraid to fly, and is generally dependent on anyone who will feel sorry for her. Her phone only makes outgoing calls, so if the world ends and she needs to know, you must email her. (She's never even seen the grandkid...because she can't afford a cab to Houston.)
She sits all day looking out the window and looking at her arms (she thinks there's something wrong with them). No shit. Seriously. All day. Looking at her arms. When she's feeling neglected, she calls Sir Knight at the office. This is where I come in.
NK: Is Sir Knight in? (She always uses both names. Always. That's how I know it's her.)
Me: I'm not sure. I think he stepped out for a bit. Can I take a message?
NK: Do you know when he'll be back?
Me: (thinking "Well for you, the Tuesday after never. Or maybe April 31. Whichever is later.") No. I'm not really sure...can I take a message?
NK: No. I'll just call his cell phone.
Me: He must not have gone far since he left his cell on his desk. (hint, hint)
NK: "Click."
SK's cell: Ring! Ring! .... Ring! Ring!
...a moment of silence...
Office phone: Ring! Ring!
Me: Slugdom, this is Clarinazi, can i help you?
NK: Is Sir Knight in?
Me: No. He's stepped out of his office for a moment...
So Tuesday, she calls and wants Sir Knight to let her move into his house until the newly-discovered mold in her house is killed. He agrees to let her stay during the day on Wednesday since she had called SK's sister (whose husband has thrown her out of their house after a "short" two-week stay--another post entirely) and SK will be away anyway. She leaves seven voice mails on SK's cell on Tuesday to remind him to turn on the television so that she won't be bored and lonely while he is at work and she doesn't know how to work the remote, so he also needs to turn the volume down so that she can nap.
This morning, she's still there. She calls around 11:00 to let SK know that they're not done with the mold removal (and now it's in the a/c and the carpet), so she would be staying a "little" longer. He told her that he had a date coming for dinner, so she needed to be gone by 6:00. She told him that she didn't know if she could manage that, so he went to get her a hotel room...I haven't seen him since.
God have mercy on his soul. He deserves it. No wonder why he won't marry the girlfriend.
*OK, you know the reference. I KNOW you do. You wouldn't let me down by not knowing Carlin would you?
Carlin, from the "phrases that piss me off" skit: "He takes the cake. WHERE? Down to the deli to see the other cakes?"
Ramdom Slug(gish) Thoughts of the Morning
Since I took a day off from the Workplace de Slug, I feel like today is a little disjointed. On one hand, yesterday felt like the weekend since I was kickin' it at a party for mom's business' 25th anniversary at the ole' homeplace, which means that today feels like Monday. (Freakin' grr for that.) On the other hand, yesterday felt strange since I wasn't attending work, so today feels like it should be Friday (yes, I KNOW it's Friday.) albeit a very strange Friday. This being said, my brain can't decide if it should shut down (Monday) or celebrate (Friday)...I think that I'll withhold judgment until after a semi-liquid lunch. That should improve my outlook. Besides, when it's just Sir Knight and I, we both drink at lunch. Another plus to this job!
I think that congrats need to be extended to this lady. She just finished her Master's Degree at age 94 after dropping out of school at age 12 to take care of her siblings. I'm struggling to finish mine at age 25 after being in school for my entire life. Hats (and mortarboards) off to you, Ms. Turner...that's a serious accomplishment.
...and in the "Holy Shit, Batman!" sector, we find this piece of news. It's the family's 17th child. No adoptions, no second marriages. All are the kids of Jim Bob and Michelle. And all the names start with a "J," making the family photo album sound like a dictonary roll call. Michelle has been pregnant for 128 months, or 10.5 years (25%) of her life. DAY-UM. Christ on a crutch, I think I'd shoot someone who tried to play hide the salami with me after the first few, and there would be no chance for 17. ... Ever.
---
I'm sure I'll have more thoughts through the day--at some point, I'll post about why I applied for a promotion...it's all a big effort to rid myself of QB (imagine that). After her last stunt, I've had my fill of schizoid management styles.
I think that congrats need to be extended to this lady. She just finished her Master's Degree at age 94 after dropping out of school at age 12 to take care of her siblings. I'm struggling to finish mine at age 25 after being in school for my entire life. Hats (and mortarboards) off to you, Ms. Turner...that's a serious accomplishment.
...and in the "Holy Shit, Batman!" sector, we find this piece of news. It's the family's 17th child. No adoptions, no second marriages. All are the kids of Jim Bob and Michelle. And all the names start with a "J," making the family photo album sound like a dictonary roll call. Michelle has been pregnant for 128 months, or 10.5 years (25%) of her life. DAY-UM. Christ on a crutch, I think I'd shoot someone who tried to play hide the salami with me after the first few, and there would be no chance for 17. ... Ever.
---
I'm sure I'll have more thoughts through the day--at some point, I'll post about why I applied for a promotion...it's all a big effort to rid myself of QB (imagine that). After her last stunt, I've had my fill of schizoid management styles.
8.01.2007
Just for Matt.
I'm happy somebody out there doesn't mind that I've not blogged in a while.
Only 3 pages per week? I want to go to her school!!!
hmm...personal life. Maybe that is what's missing. ;-)
Uh huh, and did you explain to him [Matt] that you have been a) preparing for and going to various professional and business conferences, b) conducting research and writing your findings into somewhat coherent research papers, c) continuing your education in an effort to obtain a MASTER's degree, which means every idiot professor demands you write at least 3 pages per week on something or another, d) holding down two jobs, and ***gasp*** e) trying to maintain some semblance of a personal life. Make him read your papers if he wants to be appreciative your "muse"!!!
DAMN! Matt! LOL
Only 3 pages per week? I want to go to her school!!!
hmm...personal life. Maybe that is what's missing. ;-)
People are depraved.
de·praved [di-preyvd] -- adjective corrupt, wicked, or perverted.
I know this statement is nothing new, but ever so often I get blindsided by the utter stupidity of the general populace and the complete lack of respect for anyone (or anything) that pervade our "great" society. ... Some crazy nutcase has been HIRED by parents to "touch up" photos of their children (hello, DNA...your kids look like they do (whether good or bad) because of how you and your mate look). As in make them look like 80s Glamour Shots of 3-month-old Brides of Chucky. (To see some of the "improvements" by crazy nutcase lady and others click here.) Geesh. These kids are cute to start with. ... and they look like actual children. (Removing dark circles from under the eyes of a 3-month-old?!? Are you freakin' kidding me?!?)
Let us project ourselves into the future and take a look at the conversations that happen when the kids are flipping through ye ole photo album and happen to run across the original photos, then the touched up versions...
"Mom, why wasn't I ever good enough for you?"
(from the kitchen) "Why, lambkin, you are perfect just the way you are!"
"Obviously not." (Slips into depression, get committed for drug abuse, and
commits suicide. All in one day.)
To top it all off, read the series of e-mails between the nutcase and the webmaster of the site writing the story (case in point). I almost wet myself. Talk about pervasive idocy. DAMN!!!! Ladies' Man and SM II were looking at me gasping for air and trying to talk but not quite managing, wondering if I were the next victim of the Joker.
I know this statement is nothing new, but ever so often I get blindsided by the utter stupidity of the general populace and the complete lack of respect for anyone (or anything) that pervade our "great" society. ... Some crazy nutcase has been HIRED by parents to "touch up" photos of their children (hello, DNA...your kids look like they do (whether good or bad) because of how you and your mate look). As in make them look like 80s Glamour Shots of 3-month-old Brides of Chucky. (To see some of the "improvements" by crazy nutcase lady and others click here.) Geesh. These kids are cute to start with. ... and they look like actual children. (Removing dark circles from under the eyes of a 3-month-old?!? Are you freakin' kidding me?!?)
Let us project ourselves into the future and take a look at the conversations that happen when the kids are flipping through ye ole photo album and happen to run across the original photos, then the touched up versions...
"Mom, why wasn't I ever good enough for you?"
(from the kitchen) "Why, lambkin, you are perfect just the way you are!"
"Obviously not." (Slips into depression, get committed for drug abuse, and
commits suicide. All in one day.)
To top it all off, read the series of e-mails between the nutcase and the webmaster of the site writing the story (case in point). I almost wet myself. Talk about pervasive idocy. DAMN!!!! Ladies' Man and SM II were looking at me gasping for air and trying to talk but not quite managing, wondering if I were the next victim of the Joker.
7.31.2007
It's been a while.
It's been quite a while since I scribbled here, but I'm going to try to improve (both regularity and quality). Promise.
Over the past few months, I've been bored out of my skull in my job, but my writing muse apparently took an extended vacay (well deserved after last semester's research and writing projects), and hopefully will be up to the old mischief shortly. While she's making her way back, I'll fill you in on the not-so-fab details of my life between posts.
Slugtime
An in the government sector, I applied for a promotion a couple weeks ago. It's one of those convoluted things that if I would get it, the boss would be like a mini-QB, but if I can handle the real thing, no worries. The position is as a graphic arts person, so I'd be doing fun, creative stuff at work...read: "actually having work to do while attending the job" ... I think it would be a blast. I know I got recommended to the High Goddess, so we'll see where that goes. I love Sir Knight to pieces, but working here is killing me. I need something to do!
LIW is having a preemptive surgery. I must say that if it were me, I'd make sure there was something wrong with me before removing major organs. She was planning to be out for 4-6 weeks. Of course, she has known about this surgery since January (and it's elective), but has, in true LIW fashion, continued to use her leave time to the point that as of today (and not including the leave she accrued and used in July) her balance is 0.33 hours. ... and HOW does she plan to be out 4-6 weeks?!? She did find out when she went in that they could do a laparoscopic surgery rather than cutting her open. I'm sure she's disappointed. It should be closer to 4 rather than 6. Pity.
School
I made it through the spring semester only by seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I did a massive reading/research project this summer that I turned in last week. From it, my professor offered me a fellowship and wants to restructure our planned survey to complete last spring's research. Whee? I'll finish school in December (thank God!), and do not plan to return to formal schooling for a while. A long while.
Handbells
In other news, I was appointed to the board of Central Oklahoma Ringers and Directors, which is the governing board for handbells in Oklahoma. Also that week, I was given a scholarship to go to Distinctly Bronze again (the only scholarship in the nation!!!) in October, so I'm excited for all that is handbells.
Other Church Music
I just got back from a church musician's conference in St. Louis. Talk about a strange town! I got there early Sunday morning and walked around downtown all day without seeing ANYONE, not even a homeless person. It kinda creeped me out. Give me a big city with lots o' people and I'm a happy girl. The convocation was an amazing experience, and I have tons of ideas. Look out world.
Life in General
I went to see Chicago on July 3 at the Zoo...the most incredible concert I've EVER seen...in any genre. I was on the front row. Maybe if I get comments really wanting to know I'll tell you my "I acted like a 14-year-old" story...or maybe I'll just chalk it up to seeing my hero live and close up (again, I was on the front row--could have reached out and touched...and I did!) and you can figure it out.
As I think of other happenings, I'll fill you in. This is about all of my life you should be able to handle as of now. ;-)
Over the past few months, I've been bored out of my skull in my job, but my writing muse apparently took an extended vacay (well deserved after last semester's research and writing projects), and hopefully will be up to the old mischief shortly. While she's making her way back, I'll fill you in on the not-so-fab details of my life between posts.
Slugtime
An in the government sector, I applied for a promotion a couple weeks ago. It's one of those convoluted things that if I would get it, the boss would be like a mini-QB, but if I can handle the real thing, no worries. The position is as a graphic arts person, so I'd be doing fun, creative stuff at work...read: "actually having work to do while attending the job" ... I think it would be a blast. I know I got recommended to the High Goddess, so we'll see where that goes. I love Sir Knight to pieces, but working here is killing me. I need something to do!
LIW is having a preemptive surgery. I must say that if it were me, I'd make sure there was something wrong with me before removing major organs. She was planning to be out for 4-6 weeks. Of course, she has known about this surgery since January (and it's elective), but has, in true LIW fashion, continued to use her leave time to the point that as of today (and not including the leave she accrued and used in July) her balance is 0.33 hours. ... and HOW does she plan to be out 4-6 weeks?!? She did find out when she went in that they could do a laparoscopic surgery rather than cutting her open. I'm sure she's disappointed. It should be closer to 4 rather than 6. Pity.
School
I made it through the spring semester only by seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I did a massive reading/research project this summer that I turned in last week. From it, my professor offered me a fellowship and wants to restructure our planned survey to complete last spring's research. Whee? I'll finish school in December (thank God!), and do not plan to return to formal schooling for a while. A long while.
Handbells
In other news, I was appointed to the board of Central Oklahoma Ringers and Directors, which is the governing board for handbells in Oklahoma. Also that week, I was given a scholarship to go to Distinctly Bronze again (the only scholarship in the nation!!!) in October, so I'm excited for all that is handbells.
Other Church Music
I just got back from a church musician's conference in St. Louis. Talk about a strange town! I got there early Sunday morning and walked around downtown all day without seeing ANYONE, not even a homeless person. It kinda creeped me out. Give me a big city with lots o' people and I'm a happy girl. The convocation was an amazing experience, and I have tons of ideas. Look out world.
Life in General
I went to see Chicago on July 3 at the Zoo...the most incredible concert I've EVER seen...in any genre. I was on the front row. Maybe if I get comments really wanting to know I'll tell you my "I acted like a 14-year-old" story...or maybe I'll just chalk it up to seeing my hero live and close up (again, I was on the front row--could have reached out and touched...and I did!) and you can figure it out.
As I think of other happenings, I'll fill you in. This is about all of my life you should be able to handle as of now. ;-)
Read this. Just do it.
2.16.2007
HALLELUJAH and PRAISE JESUS!!!!!
So remember all those posts about the ridiculousness of the processes here in the esteemed agency? Well, here's one more.
Let's go back in time.
February 3, 2006--Request comes from the High Goddess that we are to design a calendar for early childhood. We are to pick a statewide team of 8 others who will aid us in the making. I am to do the layout, and the other 8 plus Princess will do the content.
Hop to today.
WHEE!!!!! The calendar just got printed! I have my first hard copy of the acutal one I can hang on the wall!
379 days in the making...
Let's go back in time.
February 3, 2006--Request comes from the High Goddess that we are to design a calendar for early childhood. We are to pick a statewide team of 8 others who will aid us in the making. I am to do the layout, and the other 8 plus Princess will do the content.
Hop to today.
WHEE!!!!! The calendar just got printed! I have my first hard copy of the acutal one I can hang on the wall!
379 days in the making...
1.23.2007
I couldn't have said it better myself.
Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
A happy place of rolling green fields, where I can let my Snark off the leash to run free among the herds of Bewilderbeests, bringing down the slow and the stupid by the throat.
Feel free to give her a visit. View From the Porch
A happy place of rolling green fields, where I can let my Snark off the leash to run free among the herds of Bewilderbeests, bringing down the slow and the stupid by the throat.
Feel free to give her a visit. View From the Porch
1.17.2007
Oh say can you see by the dawn's early flight
Well, I'm scribbling again, Matt, so hush.
I just returned yesterday afternoon from New York City. Say what you will about the city, my trip was fantastic. I had a great time, and cut a swath through the garment district that left a 4-square-block wake. ...then I had the honor of having to fly home. *grumble*
I left on Thursday. For reasons that were Not My Fault I had to fly through Chicago. In wintertime. I know what you're thinking...I got snowed in at O'Hare and had to sleep in the airport. You'd think wrong.
I flew to New York via Dallas, O'Hare, then LaGuardia. Amazingly enough, my luggage managed to hop, skip and jump across the country with no adverse effects (like spontaneous disappearance), even after an amazing series of gate changes. My friend, however, was clouded with bad travel karma. His luggage only had to go the last leg of the journey, but alas. Apparently, the shorter trips are worse. The luggage didn't make it. Ever. We left New York via Newark (the armpit of the universe) Monday morning, with only my bags in tow.
The Newark to O'Hare trip was surprisingly decent. The plane was only an hour late (rather than four, like the others), and we made it to Chicago in one piece. Then the party began.
The return trip was a direct flight home after Chicago, which was a GOOD THING, since OKC and Dallas were swarmed under by three inches of ice. The weather in Chicago was great for January, and life was excellent. Then they changed my gate. Twice. Now I'm sitting in the bowels of O'Hare waiting on a plane that is running late. Great. After two delays, we get on the plane. Whee! This is the only flight leaving for OKC, since they have cancelled all the other flights due to the ice sheet over the runway, and I'm on it! Hel-lo home.
We pile onto the plane (a very small jet--don't ask.), and the captain tells us that they have to de-ice the plane, etc. We sit for a while, then pretty soon back away from the gate. Wahoo! We may even leave Chi-town. Pretty soon all the power flickers, and the captain tells us that the plane de-icer messed up the engine and now it won't start. They are going to push us onto the tarmac for a jump start. Well, friends and neighbors, I don't think I like the sound of flying on an incredibly tiny jet for two hours on which half the engines had to be JUMP STARTED.
The jump didn't do the trick, so we were going to get dragged back to the gate. The car comes out, hooks up, starts to pull, and WHOMP! The line breaks. Great. Now we're stuck on the tarmac with planes backed up on either side of us, unable to get around. They send for a mechanic to come look at the wiring, and for some reason, he was unable to make it. The captain turned off the airplane, leaving us sitting with no light, no air, and no patience for about an hour.
Finally, everything conceivable has failed to roust the engine, so they decide to cancel the flight. No!!! This is the only one leaving, and now, it's not either. After about four hours on the plane, we get off and troop back into the bowels of O'Hare. Another hour in line for the agent to reschedule my flight and get me a room for the night...and it's 8:00. Had I rented a car when I get to O'Hare, I'd be almost home by now. *grumble*
My agent told me that I could fly into Denver, and could hopefully fly from there to OKC, but he wasn't sure about that leg yet... Let's think through the logic here: January-Winter. Denver-Mountains. Mountains-Winter-SNOW. Uh, no? I don't have much of a choice but to take the ticket, so at least I can leave Chicago--at 6:00 am Tuesday. Grr.
After hours on the phone at the hotel, I get my flight changed to Dallas. All is well. I get to Dallas, and the Oklahoma City plane is delayed, but I'm good. I'm on first class, and talking to a friendly Manhattanite who has a business in OKC. Finally the plane gets there, and we get on. Home at last.
I go to baggage claim, on the off chance that my bags actually made it past Chicago, and am faced with a sea of luggage. There are about 1000 suitcases spread throughout the lower floor, so I go through best as I can, and lo-and-behold, there's a bag. And it's really mine! So half my luggage is home.
I went back to the airport around midnight last night on the off chance that my other bag had been on the last flight in. Wonder of wonders, it was!!!!! Yay! Success!
I'm home (well, at work). My bags are home. I'm tired (and Chris, don't you say a word about sleep times!), and I wanna go home. Grumpy, sleepy, (and all the other dwarves), and the weather sucks. *grumble*
We're supposed to get 6 inches of snow this weekend to top it all off. If I get off work, I'm happy. If not, life sucks.
I just returned yesterday afternoon from New York City. Say what you will about the city, my trip was fantastic. I had a great time, and cut a swath through the garment district that left a 4-square-block wake. ...then I had the honor of having to fly home. *grumble*
I left on Thursday. For reasons that were Not My Fault I had to fly through Chicago. In wintertime. I know what you're thinking...I got snowed in at O'Hare and had to sleep in the airport. You'd think wrong.
I flew to New York via Dallas, O'Hare, then LaGuardia. Amazingly enough, my luggage managed to hop, skip and jump across the country with no adverse effects (like spontaneous disappearance), even after an amazing series of gate changes. My friend, however, was clouded with bad travel karma. His luggage only had to go the last leg of the journey, but alas. Apparently, the shorter trips are worse. The luggage didn't make it. Ever. We left New York via Newark (the armpit of the universe) Monday morning, with only my bags in tow.
The Newark to O'Hare trip was surprisingly decent. The plane was only an hour late (rather than four, like the others), and we made it to Chicago in one piece. Then the party began.
The return trip was a direct flight home after Chicago, which was a GOOD THING, since OKC and Dallas were swarmed under by three inches of ice. The weather in Chicago was great for January, and life was excellent. Then they changed my gate. Twice. Now I'm sitting in the bowels of O'Hare waiting on a plane that is running late. Great. After two delays, we get on the plane. Whee! This is the only flight leaving for OKC, since they have cancelled all the other flights due to the ice sheet over the runway, and I'm on it! Hel-lo home.
We pile onto the plane (a very small jet--don't ask.), and the captain tells us that they have to de-ice the plane, etc. We sit for a while, then pretty soon back away from the gate. Wahoo! We may even leave Chi-town. Pretty soon all the power flickers, and the captain tells us that the plane de-icer messed up the engine and now it won't start. They are going to push us onto the tarmac for a jump start. Well, friends and neighbors, I don't think I like the sound of flying on an incredibly tiny jet for two hours on which half the engines had to be JUMP STARTED.
The jump didn't do the trick, so we were going to get dragged back to the gate. The car comes out, hooks up, starts to pull, and WHOMP! The line breaks. Great. Now we're stuck on the tarmac with planes backed up on either side of us, unable to get around. They send for a mechanic to come look at the wiring, and for some reason, he was unable to make it. The captain turned off the airplane, leaving us sitting with no light, no air, and no patience for about an hour.
Finally, everything conceivable has failed to roust the engine, so they decide to cancel the flight. No!!! This is the only one leaving, and now, it's not either. After about four hours on the plane, we get off and troop back into the bowels of O'Hare. Another hour in line for the agent to reschedule my flight and get me a room for the night...and it's 8:00. Had I rented a car when I get to O'Hare, I'd be almost home by now. *grumble*
My agent told me that I could fly into Denver, and could hopefully fly from there to OKC, but he wasn't sure about that leg yet... Let's think through the logic here: January-Winter. Denver-Mountains. Mountains-Winter-SNOW. Uh, no? I don't have much of a choice but to take the ticket, so at least I can leave Chicago--at 6:00 am Tuesday. Grr.
After hours on the phone at the hotel, I get my flight changed to Dallas. All is well. I get to Dallas, and the Oklahoma City plane is delayed, but I'm good. I'm on first class, and talking to a friendly Manhattanite who has a business in OKC. Finally the plane gets there, and we get on. Home at last.
I go to baggage claim, on the off chance that my bags actually made it past Chicago, and am faced with a sea of luggage. There are about 1000 suitcases spread throughout the lower floor, so I go through best as I can, and lo-and-behold, there's a bag. And it's really mine! So half my luggage is home.
I went back to the airport around midnight last night on the off chance that my other bag had been on the last flight in. Wonder of wonders, it was!!!!! Yay! Success!
I'm home (well, at work). My bags are home. I'm tired (and Chris, don't you say a word about sleep times!), and I wanna go home. Grumpy, sleepy, (and all the other dwarves), and the weather sucks. *grumble*
We're supposed to get 6 inches of snow this weekend to top it all off. If I get off work, I'm happy. If not, life sucks.
12.23.2006
My, how time flies...
Greetings and salutations, my revered friends...I'm betting that you don't feel revered, but instead more neglected than anything. Well, not to fear, I is here.
I was looking through the blogs o' ages past, and realized that I have let many things slide. Of course, there are those things in my life that are constant. LIW will always be a lazy PITA. Minnie will always be arrogant, shy, and whiney. These things go without saying. However, there are those things that have changed.
1. The data droids. They're not droids. They're acutally the only saving grace in my job. I think Ladies' Man has his work cut out for him to keep a harem in excess of that by Head Droid and Mini Droid. Really. I've never seen so many mothers and grannies try to foist off their offspring and grand-offspring upon data people in my life. It's really disturbing. I love them though, and stories of our escapades abound in my daily life. Most are not reprintable, but hysterical nonetheless.
2. Azzie has been completely nice to me. For months. As in, he comes behind my desk to give me amusing links to websites. And e-mail forwards. I still think he's an alien, but that's a whole other post. In other Azzie news, they have hired another guy in their office, and I haven't had to answer the phone for his section in months. Life is GREAT.
3. SM2's daughter has come to work for blessed agency. Who would ever let their offspring *work* in this agency is beyond me, but she seems to be ok with it, so who am I to interfere? BUT...now she's always preoccupied with the daughter, who smokes, and as the mother of such, she takes smoke breaks. All the time. It's lonely. (But I did get her to cut early with me yesterday!!! There is still hope!)
4. Sir Knight's son and daugher got married (not to each other!), and he's been completely mellow since the weddings. Daughter is pregnant, and Sir Knight thinks the baby will refer to him by his given name. Of course. The baby will be calling him Gramps, so I'm sure that when the time comes, hell will break loose.
5. LIW still hums. Off key and incessent as usual. She still leaves for no apparent reason, but at least most days she shows up! I think we finally got the fear of God in her, as her leave was exhausted and she was routinely getting calls from HR...I doubt it will last, but it's nice while it's happening.
The fam's here for Christmahaunakwanzakah...better go tip a feather. Ciao.
I was looking through the blogs o' ages past, and realized that I have let many things slide. Of course, there are those things in my life that are constant. LIW will always be a lazy PITA. Minnie will always be arrogant, shy, and whiney. These things go without saying. However, there are those things that have changed.
1. The data droids. They're not droids. They're acutally the only saving grace in my job. I think Ladies' Man has his work cut out for him to keep a harem in excess of that by Head Droid and Mini Droid. Really. I've never seen so many mothers and grannies try to foist off their offspring and grand-offspring upon data people in my life. It's really disturbing. I love them though, and stories of our escapades abound in my daily life. Most are not reprintable, but hysterical nonetheless.
2. Azzie has been completely nice to me. For months. As in, he comes behind my desk to give me amusing links to websites. And e-mail forwards. I still think he's an alien, but that's a whole other post. In other Azzie news, they have hired another guy in their office, and I haven't had to answer the phone for his section in months. Life is GREAT.
3. SM2's daughter has come to work for blessed agency. Who would ever let their offspring *work* in this agency is beyond me, but she seems to be ok with it, so who am I to interfere? BUT...now she's always preoccupied with the daughter, who smokes, and as the mother of such, she takes smoke breaks. All the time. It's lonely. (But I did get her to cut early with me yesterday!!! There is still hope!)
4. Sir Knight's son and daugher got married (not to each other!), and he's been completely mellow since the weddings. Daughter is pregnant, and Sir Knight thinks the baby will refer to him by his given name. Of course. The baby will be calling him Gramps, so I'm sure that when the time comes, hell will break loose.
5. LIW still hums. Off key and incessent as usual. She still leaves for no apparent reason, but at least most days she shows up! I think we finally got the fear of God in her, as her leave was exhausted and she was routinely getting calls from HR...I doubt it will last, but it's nice while it's happening.
The fam's here for Christmahaunakwanzakah...better go tip a feather. Ciao.
12.07.2006
12.04.2006
Hrm.
So apparently I have resigned my post as Centennial Chairperson. I just got a group email from one of my (rather rude) volunteers stating that the City Manager has offered the position to her. Hrm. I don't mind her running the show at ALL. I actually had given thought to resigning, but the least they could have done was to tell me about it! Good grief. The City Manager came to our last gig and told me how great he thought it was. I said thanks, and that I'd get with him after the first of the year. Ah well, I guess now that 2007 is upon them they decide that they really do need to get on the ball...as if I hadn't told him this many times already...
12.01.2006
SNOW!
So there is a God. And he decided I needed a reprieve. I've been falling more and more behind, and this blessed snow is like God looking down on me saying, "Yes, I know you don't have time to do everything you have to do before Monday, so I am going to make your workplace close for two days. Use them wisely."
Thank you, God. I have.
Thank you, God. I have.
11.29.2006
Back from Sabbatical..sorta
So I'm back from my real life due to popular demand. Let's see...going back, going back...
Hmm...
I had to write an official paper about my place of work. About organizational behavior and human relations problems. It was a breeze. :-)
One of my classes for the semester has finished as of 10 pm yesterday, so I may have more time to dedicate to my devotees.
There hasn't been a lot new going on at work-I've been working on things for my concert, things for Sir Knight's church program, and things for school. ...business as usual.
I'm playing a concert on Decmeber 14. All Christmas. Free. Come see me!
I'll be back after some caffeine and these brief messages...
Hmm...
I had to write an official paper about my place of work. About organizational behavior and human relations problems. It was a breeze. :-)
One of my classes for the semester has finished as of 10 pm yesterday, so I may have more time to dedicate to my devotees.
There hasn't been a lot new going on at work-I've been working on things for my concert, things for Sir Knight's church program, and things for school. ...business as usual.
I'm playing a concert on Decmeber 14. All Christmas. Free. Come see me!
I'll be back after some caffeine and these brief messages...
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