Nothing Wrong With Shooting...

...As long as the right people get shot.

Got an invite last Friday afternoon for a mandatory, all-staff meeting first thing Monday morning. Last minute... mandatory... all staff... those are never good.

It wasn't about layoffs, but it was a re-org, though the re-org doesn't make much sense. They've all but dismantled the UE group and no one's telling us why.

It seems like no one really thought through all the details. When our (now unhappy) ID's asked about the new structure, they were told it was done to make their lives better, yet no one asked them for input.

What's really behind the re-org? Why can't we hear the whole story? Are we not adults?

CHiP Roulette

On the way home yesterday I felt like I was driving through a mine field and at any moment a CHP would blow up on my ass.

Starting out in Oregon it was mellow in the morning - no one was out except a few truckers here & there. It was a fast drive from Bend to Dorris. But shortly after reaching the border, it felt like cops were everywhere

I had my radar detector fired up, but if they're not shooting at you it does no good. When you whiz past them at close to the speed of sound, they don't really need a radar gun to tell them shapes and colors are converging into a blurry speeding glob.

All I could do was watch for air patrol and hope for the best. As I was leaning into the turns around Lake Shasta I saw a helicopter go right over my head.

Nooo! What to do... what to do... Was it even a cop? Maybe it was a rescue helicopter? There's no way to know! It's usually a plane, but maybe they got more money from Homeland Security and bought a Blackhawk.

I pulled off the road and waited - driving leisurely around the lake area. After a little while I got back onto 5 and went with the speed of traffic.

There was no way they could prove it was my car slotting around the turns. I was now a good 10 minutes behind where they would have expected me to be, and I'm in a station wagon? Who speeds in a station wagon?

But it didn't end there. All through Redding down to Dunnigan and on the 505 they kept appearing from nowhere, totally messing with my head. It was brutal.

With three stops along the way, I made it home in 7.5 hours. Not my land speed record of 6.5/7 hours, but good enough. I wasn't trying to break any records - I just wanted to get home.

I'm a Dumbass

Not this little guy - me - I'm the dumbass.

I'm in Oregon at the moment and just after arriving, looked through my bag for a pair of sweatpants and other warm layers and found none.

I must have been sleep-packing, because I packed t-shirts but no sweaters, no fleece, nothing warmer than a sweatshirt, and nothing to lounge around the house in.

Clearly, my vitamins aren't working or they can't stop my brain from dissolving and running out my nose with every sneeze.

On a positive note, the opening at the museum was a big success and that night I was commissioned to get more wildlife shots. I spent some time there yesterday watching a lively river otter swim all around his pond - otters have the coolest paws - and getting new shots of the lynx and bobcat. It was hard not to get in there and snuggle with them.

Lethargic

I've been in a physical/mental funk lately - feeling lethargic and run down and this past week I've had trouble finding the right words and three times over the course of the week forgot what day it was.

What I need is my own lab - how much does it cost to set up your own lab to run blood tests? Can't be that expensive. Have you seen some of the "labs" out there? Not so fancy. A centrifuge would be handy for separating the fat from roasting juices.

Happy Valentimes!

Hope you had a swell day full of candy and flowers.

My day started off well enough but alas, I was foiled by Bart yet again. Not that the train didn't come or didn't go where it should. It came, and shortly after stepping on board, I was gagged by a toxic cloud of cigarette smoke, heavy perfume and some sort of hair product.

The front car is often the least crowded, as was the case this morning, but least crowded at 8:30 a.m. means you're still standing, just not on top of each other. There was no where else to stand as I tried to breathe through my book. She was next to me and I had no where to go but off the train.

But if I got off the train, I'd be late, so I decided to find a spot near the other side of the train when we hit the next stop. I thought, How bad could it really be?

I tried to focus on my book and take short, shallow breaths for the last 10 minutes of the ride. When I got back above ground I breathed deeply all the way to my office. I'd made it and now I could clear out my lungs.

Upstairs, I sat down in front of my computer and I could still smell that heavy, oily, tar pit of stench - WTF? I smelled the skin on the back of my hand - it was on my skin. ON MY SKIN.

I ran to the bathroom and washed every exposed inch of skin, but I could still smell it. It was in my nose, like when you've been sitting around a campfire then later you blow your nose and you smell the smoke.

But this was no campfire. I'd have loved a campfire. Or some dirt. Lighter fluid. Maybe a block of stinky cheese. But not this. This was nasty. Naaaaaaaaaasty. Unfortunately, my meeting was about to start and I had to go.

After my meeting I ran to Walgreen's for Febreeze. I sprayed my shirt, my coat and my hair. Short of taking another shower, there was nothing else I could do.

I think I washed my hands 38 times. I tried to wash out my nose twice (not easy), and thought about washing my hair with hand soap. I couldn't wait to get home for a Silkwood shower.

On the news tonight a woman actually said "valentimes" and wasn't trying to be funny. When exactly is Valentimes again?

Left for Cream Cheese

This post is all about the importance of communication and keeping one's imagination in check. Or taking a pill. But mostly it's about communication.

Rooty might remember a similar story about David and his trip to Monterey. We're still working on "checking in" and "using your words."

The other day we got outta bed and David said he was going to run to the store to pick up cream cheese. It was just before 9 a.m. when he took off to the store. I pushed the button on the magic box and had some toast.

I later curled up on the couch with the crossword and as it got closer to 10 a.m. thought it must be stupid busy at the store and he'll be pissed, caught up in the crowds just for cream cheese.

I'm not really a worrier, but when you know your husband's trip to the store should only take a half hour, you start to wonder - did someone crash into him? Did he drive into a tree? Did he slip on a pickle & hit his head and not remember who he is? Is he wandering the streets eating pickles?

The thought of the car wreck came into my head when I heard screeching tires down the street. He was probably fine - but then again, it *could* happen. People have accidents every day. Maybe he was in the ER and soon I'd get the call... if he remembered who he is...

Soon after 10 I thought I'd try him on his cell phone & see what was up. As I dialed the number I walked back toward his office with a hunch. Yup - there it was, ringing on his desk. No reaching him that way.

I got ready to run some errands and around 10:30 went out to the porch for some air. At this point I was worried. On one hand, I was sure everything was probably fine, but on the other hand, you never know. Stuff happens. No one's immune to accidents or UFO abductions in the dairy aisle.

While on the porch I saw Crazy Neighbor Bob puttering around his yard and was reminded of a conversation we'd had a couple of weeks earlier. We were next door at a neighbor's open house when Bob told us about trying to get women in the neighborhood to go out with him. No matter what he tried, no one would go on a date with him.

At that moment I thought, Christ, if anything happens to David, that guy is gonna be over here trying to get me to go out with him.

Now I'm not distraught, but I can't begin to figure out what's happened. Where could he be? Has he left me using the pretense of going out to get cream cheese? I won't be able to tell anyone that - I'll have to say I caught him with an XBox robot and that was it.

When I came back inside I heard him talking on the answering machine and ran to the phone to pick it up. He finished his message just before I could press the Talk button. Now I had to call him back. I scrolled to the number in the phone and jammed down the Talk button.

He answered, chipper as ever. My frazzled state was obvious as I asked what the hell had happened to him. Then he was annoyed, not understanding why I could be so frustrated and worried. What's up with me? I, I, I, but, where, what, WHERE ARE YOU?

He was at work, of course. How could I not know he was at work? He *said* "I'm going to the store to grab some cream cheese." How did I not understand that also meant, "While I'm out, I'm going to stop by work to grab a file I couldn't access last night and while I'm there, I'll get caught up helping the IT guy with a server problem and after that I'll pick up the cream cheese."

Much later that same day, as we enjoyed a tasty dinner, he apologized for his loner, latchkey kid ways and I reminded him of the conversation we'd had with Bob. He promised to never let anything happen to him, ever.

Neo, Program Director

Neo in his favorite chair, San Mateo, 2001

We live with gifted creatures. Intelligent beyond our understanding, we're lucky they tolerate us and our Neanderthal ways.

The oldest, Ninja, enjoys accosting expensive gabardine trench coats and sleeping smack in the middle of the floor in a high-traffic area. Some of his favorite toys are air, lint, plastic bags and socks.

His younger sister, Nikita, likes to enforce strict bedtimes by standing on your chest, obstructing your view of the book you were trying to read. She'll do this until you give in and turn off the light, then she'll leave.

Then there's Neo. Neo isn't so much a cat as he is a muppet, a bear cub, and a bulldog in the shape and form of a cat. He runs the house and there's no way he's not getting what he wants when he wants it the way he wants it.

The other morning at 4:30 a.m. he paid us a visit in bed demanding attention. He doesn't just jump up on the bed and meow. He jumps up onto the foot of the bed and walks up David's side, meowing all the way up to the headboard where he stands on top of the books, meowing and rubbing his cheeks on the bindings as they slide this way and that off the headboard.

He'll stay there until I can get my hand up to pull him down onto the bed, where he'll sometimes settle on the fleecey blanket near my feet, but oftentimes he'll make several more laps around the bed, meowing, rubbing, and walking on your hair.

He made another lap and as I tried to get him down, he stepped onto my clock radio, which has several buttons on top of it. One turns on the radio, one turns it off, one is the snooze and one turns on the CD player.

I heard the buttons clicking and started to get annoyed. I was struggling to get my hand around his shoulder to pull him toward me and called his name loud enough to rouse David. Now we were both awake at 4:30 a.m. and annoyed at Neo for being a giant needy baby.

As I tried to wrangle him off the radio he stepped onto the CD Play button and a second later we heard the soothing Sounds of Nature's ocean waves. As he jumped onto the bed, David and I simultaneously said, "Hey, that sounds nice..." and put our heads right back down on the pillows and back to sleep.

Holy Plastic Zippers, Batman!

We're saved!

Where is S.C. Johnson's Nobel Prize? Do they realize they've single-handedly saved the world from terrorism with their little one quart zip lock bags?

I felt so secure on my flight knowing no one on board had more than a quart bag's worth of liquids, gels, or pastes - except those with less-than-perfect eyesight traveling with contact lens fluids and mothers with infants traveling with formula.

At one airport the agent never checked my rollaboard and instead gave my backpack the equivalent of a strip search.

At another airport they went through both bags and explained the contact lens solution didn't have to be in the one-quart bag, but it still had to be taken out so they could "see it." Um, Betty, I have something you can see if you want to see something.

So here's my new policy. If you're traveling by plane, fuck the luggage and don't worry about getting dressed. Wear your robe and slippers and throw all your shit into a clear plastic trash bag. You're wasting your time neatly packing your things into a tidy suitcase.

And those nice clothes you like to travel in? Don't bother. You'll have to take off your belt, your watch, your hair clips, your shoes, and possibly your bra if it's providing weapons-grade support. Why waste all that time? Robe & flip flops.

You'll get through security in a flash and won't have to worry about getting dressed all over again or repacking your shit in a frenzied rush to get out of the way and off to your gate.

So... Slow... Gasp...

I've gone back in time. Back to a time known as "dial up." You'll notice today's post contains no photos. In times like these, photos are a luxury we cannot afford.

I'm in central Oregon for a quick trip and because the wireless cable isn't currently active at the parents' place, I opted for ye olde modemme so I wouldn't have to camp at the downtown Starbucks all day. It's a trade off, but I know I made the right choice.

A whole house to myself full of coffee, food, booze, a toasty fireplace, a magic espresso box and comfy couches where I can work in my PJs - or a drafty coffee shop and a public bathroom...

My mother stocks enough food in her pantry that I could be here indefinitely and not need to shop for anything. And there's more booze here than you'd find in a dozen frat houses - better quality, too.

Because the cable isn't on, I'm relegated to Oregon Public Broadcasting and local radio. OPB is the only channel that works without cable. Last night I watched the conclusion to Jane Eyre and tonight's show is something to do with WWII. I already feel a whole 'nother grade level smarter.

More to come about the joys of small airplane travel. While it's no fun flying in a RedBull can, on the plus side, Alaska/Horizon Air gives out complimentary beer & wine.

OCSD

That stands for Offensive Coin Slot Display. And was it ever. Sweet chocolate christmas, I dry heaved when it happened.

It was an otherwise typical evening, waiting for my train, when it tottered by. It wasn't a fashion mistake by a clueless tween. It was an incredible accident by an adult male. It's distressing just thinking about it all over again.

Making Fiends

Before I sign off for Wednesday, huge thanks to Ms. Crafty for hipping me to makingfiends.com, where I burned a couple of hours yesterday watching amusing cartoons with catchy songs about monkeys and #2 pencils. Funniest thing I've seen in Flash since homestarrunner.


Can't wait to learn all the lyrics to the #2 pencil song.

Kinda Shredded

I've had that bug going around that saps every last drop of energy out of you and converts it into snot packed into your sinuses.

Slogging back & forth from Bart is already a drag, but becomes much more so when feeling like a wet paper sack.

Earlier this week I saw the little black cat that loiters around that area and became consumed with worry about this poor little kitty living in skeevetown near busy streets where no one gives a shit about driving the speed limit or waiting for a green light.

On Monday the traffic lights at the intersection by the garage were blinking red, and as I waited to make my left turn, a dipshit coming from the opposite lane blew straight through the intersection. He never even slowed down.

As I walked to the train after parking my car on Monday, I overheard a woman asking a man who had also just parked if they really check for permits before 10 a.m. Um, yes, they do, you lazy ass, and thanks for taking a spot I pay for every month.

Can't afford to pay the monthly fee? Then don't park there. Or get there earlier when there's plenty of parking for ONE GIANT DOLLAR on the top three floors of the garage.

I want is a ranch large enough where I can save all the beautiful kitties in the world and a Peet's coffee nearby.

Willy Wonkuh

This week I watched Tim Burton's version of Charlie & The Chocolate Factory and as the credits rolled by, I happened to see the name of a guy I went to high school with.

Sometimes I watch movie credits thinking I might see a familiar name - you never know. It would be unlikely to stumble across an old chum in such a way. Except for this time.

I emailed my Dad & asked him if it might be the same guy - my dad knows his dad - and sho 'nuff, it's the same guy!

And that's the biggest news I have this week besides my sugarless diet. Wait, no, that's not true. Alec Baldwin called David, personally, to tell him he was outside our bedroom window and that David had a nice behind.

Also, we scooped out cat boxes, ran two loads of dishes in the dishwasher AND ordered in dinner one night. We're normally not such rock stars, but this was a particularly glamorous week.

Sans Sucre!

It's true - I'm off sugar... mostly... and feelin' good. I've always had a sweet tooth, but it's a manageable addiction since we don't keep any garbage food in the house.

But then Christmastime arrives, and my mother goes into Red Sugar-Coated Cross mode, sending us endless boxes of goodies and treats. Why she thinks we need a metric ton of Biscoff cookies, giant chocolate wreaths, and many many many tubs of sugar chocolate coated gobs of sugary treats, I'll never know.

I love that she loves us that much - it's very sweet. Literally. But snacking on that stuff made me feel like crap. One day a few weeks ago, I had a couple of Biscoffs with a cup of coffee and a half an hour later, the crash was brutal. That was it. No more sugar.

I must confess, on Monday I had a dark chocolate pot de creme that I couldn't pass up. It was well worth it and thankfully there wasn't a crash because it was tiny and my lunch was very healthy.

But that's it - no other refined sugar, and it's been good. There are no more cravings and no interest in it when it's nearby.

It's good in other ways besides alleviating cravings & energy crashes. Sugar causes an insulin spike, which causes inflammation on a cellular level, and inflammation causes cells to age.

Read the entire lecture on Insulin and Its Metabolic Effects by Dr. Rosedale. It's long, but good info.

Now I just need that 24/7 room service/personal chef/grocery shopper to have all that healthy food ready to go whenever I need it.

Stats Piling Up

No surprise, Jack is off to a quick start. His first GTA (grand theft auto) happened within the first half hour and he killed the first terrorist with an inspired bite to the jugular vein - that was a first for me in a TV show.

We realized it might be impossible to keep an accurate count of Chloe's frowns/eye rolling and decided every time she's in a scene, count three and that's probably safe.

While The Interweb category included specific quotes we thought would be enough, we've now widened that category to include any/all fantastical use of the Interweb, such as a clear, detailed map appearing on a standard cell phone after Jack types longitude/latitude coordinates, perfectly centered, into a clean, white screen.

The other Interweb point was for the clarity enhancement of Jack's photo on a satellite surveillance image, which we know always works. Looked fuzzy from a distance, but when you zoom in 10x, *that's* when it becomes crystal clear.

And we realized, this being the 6th season, we overlooked an important category, the "I'm Too Old For This Shit" category, noting Jack's two mentions of, "I can't do this anymore."

We also noted, as with past seasons, Jack's been up & at 'em for two hours now and has not had a proper breakfast nor has he visited the loo.

Extra points for the writers for creating a sleeper family member, Sandra Palmer.

For more fun stuff about Jack, enjoy Jack Bauer is God, a fun takeoff on the Chuck Norris Facts that were included in last year's "Best Non Required Reading of 2006."

Go Jack!

Children of Sad

Gah... If you're in the mood for a good cry, go see Children of Men. I knew it would be dark and sad, but I went anyway.

Great film, but I'm done seeing movies that paint such a bleak picture of what could be. It makes me focus too much on how fucked up things are and how not enough people seem to give a shit and we're all ultimately doomed.

Maybe it can be a good thing to show a view of a dystopian future to wake up those who need it, but for those of us doing what we can to make a good future, already sensitive to the horribleness going on, it's a little overwhelming. Or as some say, it's very sadful.

24 Drinking Game

Drink or I'll shoot! DO IT!!!

Created by David, to be enjoyed by all:

Title	Event
Adult Language	Jack Uses Profanity
Collateral Damage	Non-CTU Agent, Soldier, Policeman or Terrorist killed
Presidential Citation	Sherri Palmer/David Palmer mentioned by full name
GTA	Jack Steals a vehicle (Helicopters = double penalty)
Beatdown	Jack whips someone's ass (Snapping a Limb = double penalty)
Citing Protocol	Anyone in CTU cites "Protocol" (only drink on first event or risk missing entire episode due to drunkenness)
The Octagon	Chuck Norris Cameo (pause show consume entire margarita)
Penal State	Anyone is put in holding cell 1 or 2
Dramatic Pause	The Chief of Staff takes off his glasses for dramatic accent
Cliffhanger	Jack screams NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Magnum Force	Jack intentionally kills someone (non-firearm kills are a double penalty)
Chloe Award	Chloe sneers, frowns, rolls eyes or snorts like Napoleon Dynamite
Red Shirt Penalty	Any CTU agent is killed (Jack Bauer excepted)
Executive Power	Jack speaks to the President via phone
Magic Bullet	Jack reloads his pistol/rifle/machine gun/shotgun/taser/nailgun
High Drama	Cut to a commercial but clock doesn't beep
Eye in the Sky	CTU boss peers through office blinds at anyone (ominously)
The Interweb	Anyone in CTU says "Open a Socket" or "Send/Transfer … to my Screen"
Moment of Zen	Jack says "Put Down Your Weapon" (Combined w/ profanity is double)
Black Belt Jones	Curtis is shot, beaten, stabbed, lied to or otherwise disrespected
You're Fired	Someone orders the arrest, interrogation, murder or firing of Jack Bauer
Hand of God	Use of satellite to locate a moving vehicle (requires real-time video feed)
Phonus Interruptus	Cell phone call is abruptly cut off or taken away mid-sentence...
Gag Reflex	American Idol promo during commercial break
Capitalism Rules	Obvious Product Placement/Use of Logo (ex., Ford, Sony, Dell, Cingular) * Just count these up and have a drink at end of episode, salute to America
The Insider	Anyone addresses President by his/her first name
Busted	Anyone at CTU says "Division" is calling or "Division is sending someone over"

David hates Kim Bauer so much, he left her out of the game altogether. If Kim appears in any episode, I think that's a beer bong penalty.

We'll be keeping stats throughout the season. Any guesses on which event might top the charts?

Pirate Modeling

Best Box O Fun ever!

This pirate lunch box gem was one of many incredible gifts in the Archie McPhee "Mystery Box" that included fabulous prizes too numerous to mention, along with the patented (or should be) Box O Fun.

David especially loved the "monkey in the glass" cocktail napkins, but there was much, much more. It will take us until at least next Christmas to play with all the toys. Thank you Rooty, for hours of family fun - you're too good to us.

In other news, my career as a model is finally about to explode. After many years of not working at it or doing anything whatsoever to pursue such a career, my moment has finally come.


I got a call late last week from a local talent agency, specializing in "real people" talent, with a potential job.

I'd long since forgotten about having registered with them when the email arrived. But as luck would have it, I was available and apparently, still "real" enough for a photo shoot.


It was fun - super nice people, mellow studio - and most fun was watching the photographer and his assistant work.

---

On Tuesday I had to drive into the city and on the way home, I noticed a disturbing number of dead birds along the curb on the lower deck of the Bay Bridge. I used to commute on that bridge for years and never before have I seen so many dead birds.

Is it that they were mostly the young'uns that haven't learned how to negotiate around the bridge? Is the new eastern span construction disrupting their behavior? Or is it something else?

Which reminds me... After reading about the UFO in Chicago, it seems like a close encounter could actually happen before my time here is over. I guess we'll see, eh?

It's Official

It was remarkably easy to get a business license in our little ol' town. I went down to City Hall not knowing exactly what all I might need to do, but figured if nothing else I'd learn once I got there.

A nice lady behind thick glass told me I had to fill out a couple of forms and see the planning folks for the permit to operate a business out of my home, then I could come back and have her finish the process. Everyone was nice as pie and and I was done with the whole thing in about 30 minutes.

Now I guess I'd better get to work. I need some inventory. A warehouse. Ooh, a forklift! Maybe I'll get the forklift next month.

Off To a Quick Start

2007 is getting busy. I'm heading up to Oregon at the end of this month to meet the other volunteer museum photographers & sync up on the show.

I still need to finish my submission prep and send that up. Then I have another shoot for the food bank. And I need to remember to keep showing up at my day job.

It will soon be time to disengage from the corporate teat. It's nice security, but at this point, I'm not sure the security is making up for the soul-sucking despair.

I could always go back to waitressing. Tips AND a square meal - not too shabby.