Can you hear me throw up now?

I co-presented at a conference yesterday. With professor MF, the prof I've been working with for the last year or so on her online class. Longtime readers of this journal recall the process I've gone through with MF to get the course up and running. If you go back to the archives for August, September... you can read all about our last minute insanities and our initial launch of CuSeeMe for the class. Great adventures, good stories...

We put together a nice powerpoint presentation. MF submitted proposals, white papers and all kinds of crap to EDUCAUSE and NERCOMP. We came up with a catchy name for the presentation... by stealing Verizon's wireless commercial tagline. We submitted the papers and were accepted, and we went and presented our wonderful story as: " "Can you hear me now? Good!" Designing an online course using Blackboard and Webcams."

The conference for NERCOMP was held in Worcester. It's a New England regional sub-conference for EDUCAUSE, which will be held this November in California. I went to EDUCAUSE in 1999 as an attendee. I've never presented at a big fancypants schmarty computing conference.

MF knew nothing about the types of attendees at EDUCAUSE conferences, and when we got there she looked through the other presentations and said "Most of these are about IT stuff and back end development, not actual TEACHING using technology." She was right -- helpdesk symposiums, IT infrastructure... that kind of stuff is big. The fact they accepted us and put us in shocked me at first, and now she understood why.

Then she noticed we were in the last time slot on the last day of the conference. It was 50 degrees and sunny out. After this longassed winter, would YOU go sit in our presentation? If I were me, I'd be out exploring hiking trails in Worcester county.

We got there at 11am and registered and picked what presentations we wanted to see.

The first was on a portal built by the Sloan School of Management at MIT. It was sort of dull, and while I'm sure they're proud of it ... to me it's just another portal. And it wasn't very visually appealling. As a user, I'd be snoring.

After that presentation, MF was suddenly very nervous about our presentation. She kept leaning over and saying "We don't have enough to talk about... our slides don't look that good compared to this." I kept telling her to shut UP! And we'd laugh.

I was firmly confident that between the two of us we could talk for an hour. I liked our slides until someone academic told her she needed pictures on each slide and they needed to DO something (action feature in powerpoint). It was all I could do a week ago to stop her from putting a different colored background on each damn slide, and a crazy flying picture with the zoom sound on it. Jebus! I settled her down after that and we had lunch with some cool people from Gettysburg College. They were leaving right after lunch, so we told them about our presentation and they said they would LOVE to stay for it but they had to hit the road in order to get past NYC at a decent hour... someone else at the table from Boston College opened up her guide and decided that she would blow off the one she'd initially chosen and read our synopsis "God that sounds funny!" she said, and put a star next to us. She was there when we presented...

The presentation we went to after lunch was done by the Drexel University Learning Management team leaders. One was a former faculty member, and he talked about using WebCT at Drexel and how they've grown the online course presentations there since 1999. He left academia and went over to the IT group. When I interviewed for a position as a designer at my former college recently, this is the kind of guy the college was looking for. I would have loved to work for him. After his presentation he was swampped with people coming up to him, and I wanted to go say hi, but I didn't.

Philadelphia is too long a commute.

The third presentation we attended only had six people in it. It was by the folks at James Madison University, and they talked about how a 99% residential college was handling the concept of online education. They'd decided a couple years ago that they didn't need online courses. The faculty often just put up personal websites and some additional augmentation for their coursework, but no one cyber-commutes at their school.

So they do it during the summer. Students can take a couple online courses during the summer months in the core program for writing. This coming year they are expanding it to include other core courses. So if you go home for the summer to NJ, you can take a class and stay ahead or on top of the game. Nice.

Then, it was our turn. MF was quaking. "No one is going to come to this... everyone's going to leave early..." I told her if five people came, that was good because we'd know exactly how long our presentation goes, what needs added, what should get dropped... I personally considered this our "dry run."

"If ten people show up I'll die. I'll consider my cup runneth over," MF said to me as I set up the laptop.

Five people, then ten. Then 15. Then a batch of another 10. There were close to 30 people in there. Hallelujah. An audience. I asked them why they were there on such a beautiful day and one person motioned to fake leave the room and we laughed. I thanked them heartily for coming.

We ran out of time before we ran out of content. MF and I can blather on and on. The powerpoint presentation was awesome. We had a video clip to show them how the course worked on screen, and they were fascinated. I shared stories about the sudden appearance of male genitalia in the class. We got lots of good laughs. I think that people really liked what we had to say.

It was awesome.

I was nervous for a few minutes yesterday morning. By the time I got there with MF I realized I couldn't be the nervous one... I had to be the queen of confidence and the Rock of Gibraltar. I was. She was. We did great.

Now she wants to go to another conference in Myrtle Beach in June. The presentation date and time are on Jessica's birthday. I told her that I didn't intend on missing my daughter's birthday for a conference. She thought that was odd. (?? wha?). Her kids are grown up all the way -- one is in college and the other just got accepted to Sloan for his MBA. I looked at her and laughed... would you miss your kid's 11th birthday? She understood. A 22nd birthday maybe not. But. I don't intend to ever be away from home for either of my kids' birthdays while they live under my roof. She's looking into having it switched to the 10th or 9th if she can.

She wants us to drive down, and the only cost we'd have is a hotel room, which we could swing easily.

Aaron go bragh!

Ides of March yesterday. Beware, beware, yadda yadda. I hope you all bewared and are well.

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While babysitting Baby Ben Friday, I got a call from the recruiter who set me up on the interview Thursday. She told me that the people I'd interviewed with had narrowed it down to me and another guy, and they picked...

..the other guy.

So in less that 24 hours I've been kerb-kicked twice. Sad. Very sad.

I dealt with it pretty well until the ride home. I was incredibly pissed at that point, sick of sending out resumes, sick of going on interviews. I wonder if people are finding this journal and reading it and deciding I'm not the girl for the job. That crossed my mind. I wondered why on earth I have to sell myself so hard for a friggin 11 dollar an hour job entry level job.

Then, I got even more pissed when I realized that while I was IN college I was making $10 an hour working for a couple different companies. So in 17 years I've gone up in value by one dollar?

I don't think so.

I got home and A&M weren't here yet. I sat down to try and send out more resumes, and my family was too fun and happy and it was pissing me off even more. I was ready to go sit outside in a snowbank just to get away from them, and felt that I'm so sick of the snow that I'd probably go apeshit if I did that.

Then, my friend Naomi [from Australia originally, but I worked with her at the last company I was at full time] called me with a job lead. A recent employer of hers from her post our-company life had called her, asking if she wanted a design job with one of their clients.

She's already working, so she declined it but sold me hard to them and they were very interested. So she wanted my resume post haste... and I am of course thrilled to oblige.

I sent my resume out immediately. Wish me luck.

A&M had arrived before Naomi's call, and their presence and their attitudes cheered me up markedly. With the phone call and them here I became a happy gal. We broke out the funny Irish hats from last year, and we commenced to having dinner and fun. Nachos, beer, laughing, ragging on the French in French (Michelle speaks it so it's super extra fun to speak French in disparaging voice), Dennis Leary's old standup routine from early 1992 when he was "edgy", and a funnyassed episode of South Park... made for a wicked fun reunion.

Here is some photographic evidence of our good time Friday night. We broke out the leprechaun hats we'd purchased last year in Bangor, and a good time was had by all.

Aaron looks to be the proud pappa of these two babies -- 5 litre mini-kegs of Grolsch. Not an Irish beer but... it'll do.	And this is me as the scary leprechaun lady.
Oh top o'tha evenin' too ya laddie!	We all tried to make really scary crazy leprechaun faces. Michelle won, hands down.
Aaron came in second.	And Jessie was just way too cute.
We toast you -- may the road rise to meet ya...	and may you be in heaven an hour before the devil knows yer dead.

Saturday we had Geoff's girl LD from school over for a play date and we decided that it was lovely enough to go to the ocean and check things out... so we bundled up (hardly... it was about 40) and went to Ipswich, to Little Neck Beach. LD's mom told me she was quite the princess and that she probably wouldn't want to go for a hike and she'd complain about the cold... she was anything but a princessy princess (she still is a princess...) She got right out there and ran around the tidal pools in her boots, checking out snails and yelling to me "I found a shell! I discovered this rock!" And she loved seeing the big houses in Ipswich off of Labor in Vain road. That was one of the first things she told her mom when we dropped her off that afternoon.

Doug and LD discover snails	Close up picture I took so I could be an artsy fartsy
Up part of the neighborhood at Little Neck	Jessica handles a log with authority
	Top left, LD shows me her shells and a smile. Top right, Geoff and LDin the cutest picture ever... and to the direct left, Jessie ponders barnacles.
We wore the kids and Gonzodog out. It was time to head home. When we got here the men went and took naps, while Michelle and I got all deviant... with photoshop!

Oh we are SO bad. We laughed and laughed. After the Friday day I'd had, Saturday was 1000 times better. Don't ask why we put buck teeth on all the pictures. It was just easy to do and made everyone look snaggletoothed and gross. Jessie's picture came out the absolute worst. We printed the one of Aaron and it's on our fridge. And Michelle, yes... I did some extra work on yours. The nose had to be enlarged. It begged me to do it. And look how crazy your EYES are!

Love Jessie's teeth there -- little nasty assed green chicklets. Woofa Goofa with the Green Teeth!

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We rented movies last night -- We watched "Clay Pigeons" with Joachim Phoenix and Vince Vaughn... very creepy and bizarre. I told Doug when we went to bed that I was going to have nightmares about Vince Vaughn for weeks. And we also watched "About A Boy" with Hugh Grant. I'd read Nick Hornby's book a couple years ago and am so fond of it. But just as with the adaptation that was done with High Fidelity, so much was left out. The whole Kurt Cobain and Nirvana significance element was missing, so the whole angst element to Hugh Grant's character and his bond with the boy meant less to me. It was an okay movie. They made it too sweet and happy. Hollywood ending shit.

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Our fun with photoshop continued into this afternoon. Before A&M split we had just a little more fun with photoshop and made St. Patty's greetings for all our friends. Here is an Aaron Go Bragh greeting for you!

He'll be sure to send it to his parents. Nice eh? I love how crazy his eyes came out. He wouldn't let me give him a pig nose like I did in the first one. Such is life. That's some funny shit. The original picture is up in the top frame. All told we gave him crazyassed green eyes, did the teeth and tongue enlargement, colored his beard and eyebrows, made his hand and the beer twice the size as in the original, added backdrop and colored the shirt... oh, and we got a cool claddagh ring for him too. He is so boss. Don't you feel the spirit and festivity of St. Patrick's Day Weekend???

And you have permission to take this picture and send it to all your friends in celebration of St. Patty's day tomorrow. The crazed 6'5" leprechaun sends his love to all (a)musings readers, aye and begorrah!

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And so Quietude and Normalcy return to the Way Out Inn. We're happy to have had such a pissahwicked good time with A&M. I've got some cleaning up to do and some resumes to send. We were going to have Corned Beef & Cabbage with A&M but they had to split... we may hold off until tomorrow and have it then. Not sure. Anyway... That's about the story here

Passed over; Elizabeth Smart; Mark Fuhrman

That 11 buck an hour job decided not to hire me. So my whining about the pay was all for naught. They actually passed on all the candidates, and the HR person told me that if circumstances were different (i.e: they are facing some layoffs and couldn't justify bringing on someone they NEED at this time) that I was their choice... so instead of axe-leveling in the group, they'll restructure the department and take one of the tech support people off phone and train them for this job. Such is life. It would have been fun to work there and God knows I need the job.

I had another interview today. Pay is the same but there is commission. Essentially, the job is for an auto dealership in the area and they want to put all their cars which are coming off of lease out onto eBay. So they can auction them off. I thought it sounded weird, who buys a car sight unseen on eBay... but the guy interviewing me said that other dealerships buy cars online and then sell them on lot.

The position is primarily:

1. enter the cars into eBay
2. monitor the auctions
3. answer customer questions
4. finalize the sale and initiate the wire transfer or payment process, whatever it may be
5. send the information to the sales office and they do the title work and ship the car

Commission is 5% for me. Not too shabby. It doesn't seem too too challenging. He asked me if I'd be bored. I told him that it sounded to me like it's initially going to be a very busy job, and once a month when the cars all come off lease it'll be super stressy, but the monitoring the sales and taking care of business part of the job would be a nice and even keeled position, thus making up for the initial madness.

The guy seemed to like me a lot. We had a few good laughs. He didn't know about nettiquite where you don't type in all caps at people or it LOOKS LIKE YOU ARE YELLING! So I did something good today. I taught someone something. Nice.

I went over Leigh's after the interview because she lives a stone's throw from the location where I hope to be working. She bought her car at this dealership. She knows people. She offered to waltz in there and name drop for me, how very Kennedy-esque "do you know who I am?" of her. It made me feel good. Hurrah. networking at its finest.

I'm still sending out the resumes like mad, of course, and we'll see what happens.

In the meantime, we decided we'd try and refinance the house, consolidate our credit card debt, lower our rate, and see what kind of money we could save that way. I have dealt with one guy so far and it doesn't look like it'll work out for us with them. With me unemployed, they ran the numbers on Doug. They could DO it for us, but all we'd really be doing is rolling all our credit card debt into our home, and that isn't good.

So I don't know where we stand with that. I asked him if we should wait like three months after I get a job and he told me that it wouldn't make a difference because most lenders want you in a job for at least a year before they will work your mortgage. I seem to feel that isn't so. They want you to stay in your field, which is why this position at the car dealership would be great because I'd continue yet another job in my actual web design field.

Gah.

Professor CM is also waiting on a grant that he wrote for a 3 year position for me at the college.

He has a title for me too "Director, Center of Teaching and Educational Technology."

Damn. I SO want that. I'd take the eBay posting job for certain, and work it until CM's job comes through. Watch it not come through. Gah again! That's MY job. And the great thing about it is I'd be working for him. No one else. Well, the other faculty of course. But for him. And to be honest, he and Brian are the only people I'd ever even consider working for at that college again.

So.

That's where I find myself. Still searching, hoping for a job that doesn't yet exist. Wishing for a low-paying but kinda cool job which may just come my way. Sigh. What will happen to your intrepid narrator? Will she sink? Will she swim? Stay tuned and find out.

I went to the grocery store tonight (warning! Class for Kill Storm happening right now. Go buy bread!) but I didn't bring anyone with me. There was a boy there, a tad younger than Jessie, and he was pushing his dad's cart all around. When he and I would spot each other at opposite ends of the aisle, we'd rush at each other and pretend to crash, veering off at the last second, laughing. Grocery stores are my playground.

I went with a mental shopping list, got all I need for A&M's visit this weekend. Got the mixin's for an old fashioned Corned Beef & Cabbage dinner. Aye, 'tis good.

Got lots of crazy shit that we can eat, cookie stuff to bake, pie stuff to bake, lasagna mixin's, fajita mixin's, breakfast mixin's. We'll have a good ole time.

We need to come up with something fun to do this weekend. Usually we hang around and talk about doing something fun, and then get out on the late end. It's still too unweatherly to take everyone geocaching (although Medoue and Michael at chaos factor are both starting to get interested in joining the caching crowd... and talking to them makes me long for it).

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I wanted to mention some of my thoughts and feelings about the Elizabeth Smart situation.

First -- Praise God she was found alive. And pray that whatever happened to her in these last 9 months doesn't scar her so deeply that the harm is irreversible.

Second -- what kind of idiots are her parents?

You guys know I'm a Christian. Or at least I try and rise to the level of doing right by God. I don't always. I'm pretty judgmental (and am about to be so in spades) but I believe in helping others. I do my best to do so.

That having been said...

I don't bring homeless strangers into my house so they can do odd jobs, have a meal and a shower, and then not think twice about them when they vanish and I don't see them again.

The Smarts often brought home the indigent, the weird, the down on their luck types. They hired them to do all sorts of work. Thing that bothers me most is, sure, it's all fine and good to give someone a chance and an opportunity, but you don't do it in your HOUSE. Where your CHILDREN are. I mean, what are these people thinking?

But more than that... and here is the thing that I haven't heard a single person say -- I think they are not so much nice as they were cheap.

Christians, and in this case a Mormon family, often feel it's so much better to give someone a helping hand up by having them come on over and do some work around the yard or the church or whatever. Perhaps it's a great witness, feed his soul, fill his wallet, and take the opportunity to let him know that God loves him. Sure. It's a nice thing to do. Christians are notoriously cheap. And if you try and charge them money which they think is a little too much they will nickel and dime you to death in the name of God.

I've witnessed it, I've been victim of it. Babysitting? Oh, we could pay you 10 dollars an hour to watch our four kids, but the Lord would like it if you only got paid 6 because otherwise you're being greedy, aren't you Christine?

Hiring a certified and licensed contractor or qualified professional to do your roofing costs a boatload of money. That's a pain in the wallet.

So, it looks good and feels good to hire someone off the street, turn to the more needy of God's children. Pay them a lot less money to do your framing, shingling and roofing. Or your drywall. And see, you're helping!

I can't believe that anyone on this earth, no matter how good their intentions would bring the unknown into their house.

When I was younger, I picked up hitchhikers, gave money to street dudes, I did a lot of that kind of thing. Doug participated in a homeless ministry that ran out of our college, where they'd go round up homeless people and bring them to shelters for the night.

Once you have kids, your priority and focus needs to be adjusted. I would never bring someone back to my house if they needed a place to sleep, I'd find them shelter and find it elsewhere.

Caring for the whole world NEEDS to come second. Caring for, protecting, and setting up all safeguards for your offspring is tantamount. Letting all the down-and-out dudes of the neighborhood in to get some work done is just not right.

This guy, this Emannuel homeless prophet guy, was only in their house a couple times. The fact that Mrs. Smart invited him in, but didn't include him in the initial lists of people she'd invited into her house as workers only shows me that she invited TOO many damn people into her house and she couldn't keep them all straight.

This guy saw opportunity. He saw a gorgeous young woman. And he took her. Figured it out, figured out they were easy prey. And the fact they picked on a guy with a record and priors instead of thinking to look at the guy who was the holy Mormon street preacher only shows me that this is the kind of stupidity that got Catholics in trouble with their own kids. Just because someone is perceived as holy and wonderful and in-the-know about God doesn't mean they are to be trusted.

I'm just relieved that she's alive. Because when she was taken there was a huge string of little girl-takings that resulted in a lot of bodybags. Good for Elizabeth. Please, will people learn something from this whole thing. Please.

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Oh, and by the way, last night on Hannity & Colmes they had on a trio of talking heads discussing this newsworthy event. One of their expert guests was the insufferable Mark Fuhrman, the notorious detective of OJ Simpson fame. He was in Idaho or something, I guess he lives there and writes books and does a radio show or something.

He said at one point, and I can't quote because I didn't memorize it verbatim, that he had a woman on his show from California who did some deep research into the Bible. She found something in the book of Isaiah that was "downright creepy" in Fuhrman's words. Then, he recited:

"'For lo, a virgin shall conceive, and shall call his name (and then he said it all creepy, like it's the first time anyone has ever heard this...) Emannuel.' Isn't that creepy, Sean [Hannity]? Isn't that downright eerie?"

Mark Fuhrman is an idiot, bar friggin' none.

Like the name Emannuel (which, by the way means "God with us," and is the name for Christ... God with us, as opposed to just God up in heaven) as used in the book of Isaiah is some sort of unbelievable prophecy that this would happen. It's only been sung for hundreds of years in Handel's "Messiah." Jews recite it in temple, and they believe Emannuel has not yet come. One of the best Christmas hymns is "O come, o come Emannuel, and ransom captive Israel..."

Fuhrman showed himself to be one uneducated boob. Sean Hannity didn't even respond to what Furhman had to say, he just asked the Washington DC detective who worked on Chandra Levy's case a totally different question.

Gah.

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Off the soap box. Gotta go make dinner. Feed my hungry brood for which I am responsible

old neighborhood, school concert, more interview news

It looks like my parents and my sister may have to find a new place to live.

The co-op development where my parents live, and have lived for over 30 years, is probably going to be going bankrupt.

My parents have stayed there for lo these long 30 friggin years in the "ghetto" of my home town, because they are supposed to be getting money back after a certain period of time invested as if they owned a house and sold it. That's the way these co-ops work. They invested the time and money in living there, and were banking on getting their fair market value for the place when they moved out after their required staying time.

Long story short, they probably are going to get dick.

sorry. That was kinda crude.

Anyway -- they're possibly going to get nothing and like it when they go to move out. The atmosphere in the neighborhood sounds pretty nasty right now, with tenants blaming board members, board members blaming each other, new board member wanna be's who are self admitted drug dealers "Yeah, I know this place good. I sold drugs to your kids, to your mamma, to your neighbors for 20 years. I deserve to be running the show."

Right.

When we first moved in there, back when I was like seven or something, it wasn't a bad place. There was a lot of love, a lot of community. Black, white, Puerto Rican, who gives a shit what you are -- let's make friends and get some bushes planted and hang out talking all night on the cement porches.

Our building is made up of four units (note -- I just said "our" even though I left there when I was 17 and haven't moved back. It's still mine). There are dozens of these four-unit houses all up and down our street. There is a five-story high rise, and then on the opposite street behind us there are rows and rows of townhouses. I had friends living in the townhouses when we were growing up and I always loved the three or four level layout of the places. I thought they were so cool compared to our two-story regular straight up and down apartments. I wanted to live in the townhouses, but we happily lived over in our unit.

I recall being in sixth grade when one of the only other white girls in the neighborhood, Debbie Gentile, kicked my ass. Seriously, I could count on my hand the white girls: me, my sister, Debbie, Maureen H., Kim Riccio, Barbara Jacovino... and that's it. Everyone else was black. Most of us were really good friends. I fondly remember doing projects for school with Flossie Brown (hee hee, Flossie. She was so cute. I loved her), and her coming over to play with my hamsters.

I figured out that it's gotta be bad when your white ass is getting kicked by the white girl. I was all about peace and being friendly, and didn't really notice that I was white and they were black. I had nothing to prove to the black girls because we were friends. Debbie obviously had to assert herself and show how tough she was, so she put me down.

It was really sad. All the black girls cheered for her. None of my friends stepped in to help me. I was left out to dry... and later had my ass kicked a couple other times, but Flossie and her sister Crystal. I stopped riding the bus to school. I walked to high school instead of being the only white girl on the bus (all the other white girls moved away).

After a while I locked myself in my bedroom and didn't come out until ... oh, perhaps 11th grade when I made other friends. None of whom lived in my neighborhood.

Anyway -- back to the neighborhood. I used to bitch incessantly to my parents that I wanted them to move out. "Can't we move into a house somewhere? Can't we leave here?" I didn't realize that they'd reached a point of investment in the property and that it was worth more to them to stay there. They had little money saved, and spent it all on my first year of college. And my father didn't tell me that until about five years ago.

So they were stuck. They are stuck.

They still don't have money saved, both are retired. They were counting on this. And like so many other people in their age bracket, the stock market has pulled their pants down and spanked'em. Only they didn't direct invest, the co-op development did.

So... in short, they need to get out of there before the bankruptcy takes place, or they need to consult a real estate lawyer now and find out what if any action they should take. Finding an apartment for what they were paying on Long Island is a literal impossibility. Linda feels that she'll be able to stay with friends and move around.

Chances are, my parents could end up here in Massachusetts or...

perhaps Florida?

We shall see. It didn't work out for Linda down there, but perhaps for Grandma and Grampa it might, and we'd have a cool place to crash for February School Vacations! Wooo hooooo! My dream come true. Not my mom's... but mine. We need a Floridian crash pad for our family vacation needs, and free babysitting too!

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Last night we went to a combined band concert for Jessie's school district. Where we live there are 3 towns that have a regional school district. This concept to me was foreign until I met Doug and learned that there are such things. My hometown has two separate school districts, so the concept of three or four towns pulling together to have one was just bizarre. What, there aren't enough kids in your one town for you to have a district??? Jebus!

Anyway -- the three elementary school bands performed two songs each. Jessie's band director, JAY, is a young, 2-years out of college kinda guy. He had some other young guys hired on to work in the district and they've jazzed the music program up quite a bit. He is the director for two of the three schools in the district, and then there is a woman who does the third.

The sixth graders in the band are learning about improvisation. And you can tell by listening to his two bands how far along they are with music, appreciation and understanding. It was so fun to listen to them as they tried out improv, phrasing, jazz muddlings.

The high school jazz ensemble and percussion ensemble each performed two songs after the 3 elementary bands performed. They were awesome. I would SO go and hear these guys play in concert. Sometimes you get a high school jazz ensemble and they just don't have their shit together.

I turned to Doug during their performance of "No Room For Squares" saying "I need a cocktail and they need to turn the lights down low so this cat can swing!"

Some of the kids in the high school groups got to spend time talking about how they got from elementary school to a six-piece jazz ensemble. Only one of the kids turned around and spoke TO the elementary school kids. I thought that was kind of sad. They addressed the parents, the audience -- when they really should have looked the 2nd year trumpet players in the eye and said "I thought this was too hard and I stank at it when I was in fifth grade, but I stuck with it and it's so worth it -- hang in there!" Only one did. And she said "Like" and "Uh" and "Ya know" way too much for my liking. Sorry. I'm picky with that sort of thing.

The three elementary school bands then combined to play two songs together. The first was the Simpsons theme song. It was atrocious. Oh my head. I sat there trying to figure out where the melody was, what was going on. It was cacophony at its finest. Second they played Moussorgsky's Great Gate at Kiev, and it was perfect. Lovely. Loud. Made me want to march.

I did have one major issue. It was with the strings performance. Jessie joined the band 2 years ago, and I've watched at least four concerts with the strings class. There are only about four kids in her school, maybe 8 district wide, who take strings.

They are lame. I am so sorry to say it. But they are. And it is painful to sit through.

These kids who are now in sixth grade sound exactly like they did when they were in like fourth grade. They have made no progress. And I think it has something to do with the strings teacher.

He plays with them when they perform.

I don't know if that is to boost confidence, but they don't make an effort, or when they are going to mess up they get quiet and he carries the song. They don't sound at all confident, and he's all confident and leading them and having them follow along, but they seem like recalcitrant soldiers going to the front line. It made me sad the last time I saw them. It made me sad last night. I hear great improvement from when Jessie was in fourth grade to now. I don't hear that with the poor strings kids.

But, they get out there and make the effort. Gotta give them props for doing it at all. I clap just as hard for them as I do my own kid (unless Geoff's on my lap and I can't clap, obviously).

I am very proud of all the kids there. The music program we have is fabulous. And if they charged us extra for it, you bet your ass I'd pay for it. I want to keep JY there with his swinging jazz flunky friends so they could rock the place out. Yeah, baby.

---

I have an interview tomorrow morning at 10am. The job is an entry level content management position putting data into a system like E-bay, but for cars. The car dealership that would be hiring me has this whole thing online where you can purchase/bid for the car of your choice. It sounds tedious and slightly dull, but it's money. I had that 2nd interview the other day for that 11 bucks an hour job, and I thought I'd hear by now if they were offering or rejecting. Hmmm.

The Ebay like car job pays a little more than the customer service job, but I don't know if it is a 1099 contractor or a W2 job. So that could make a difference in whether or not I'd be interested (I want a W2 job. I'm sick of 1099). I have been seeing more and more jobs online lately. Whereas in November I was seeing one a week that I qualified for, I'm now seeing 1 a day. Which is better, but I'm still not hearing back from hardly any of them.

I will, of course, blab here about my life and my findings. Stay tuned

Springsoon

One of my all time favorite New England weather forcaster schticks is when they all sit around whining that it is March but it still feels like winter... News Flash, Fox News -- Breaking Alert Story! It IS still winter. Check your calendars and call me in April if there is still snow on the ground, and then we can grouse and complain all you like.

Really now, people. That's all I have to say on the subject.

---

Yesterday we decided to go out into the wilds of Central Massachusetts and go hiking at a waterfall we'd been to in the past. Doane's Falls is a Trustees of Reservations property in Royalston, MA and is part of the Tully Lake Recreation area of the North Quabbin. We were there in the summer a few years back, and thought with a lot of the recent thawing the waterfal would be sufficiently spectacular.

We were tricked. There is a veil of ice around the waterfall still, and there are holes in the ice where you can see the insane rushing of the water, but unfortunately you couldn't see much more.

A short hike down to the first or second viewing ledge proved to be too slick for our liking, what with Captain No Fear on our team, so we decided to turn back up the hill. We drove like mad all through the twisty turny roads in our beast truck, and really got to see a lot of mad pretty nature. But didn't get to hike as much as we wanted.

We decided to look for food, and drove through all kinds of towns (our favorite being Athol. From a speech therapist point of view, Doug cannot say the town name without laughing... "I could never live here and keep a straight face," he said giggling wildly). We ended up in Fitchburg, thinking we'd go to a Tex Mex Barbecue joint we'd been to before on Rte 2A, but it was out of business and is now a Chinese Buffet. Bleurgh. We ended up at a Texas Longhorn Steakhouse where we had our fill of good food and margaritas, and all made it home happy and comfy, no one fell off a cliff and no one got pulled out of the restaurant for being too loud or horribly behaved. All told, a good day.

I would love to live in Ashburnham, Ashby, Pepperell, one of those out there but still kinda close enough to Fitchburg and Worcester kinda towns. I kept saying "I love this town, I love this place" and Doug would answer "I love our town." Meaning I'm in no mood to pack and move so get those migratory ideas right out of your head.

Too bad for me, eh?

sledding!

I felt pretty darn smashing on Thursday. Lord knows I did.

Friday I paid for it.

I wore myself out with my newfound feeling goodness, and by the time I went to sleep on Thursday night I knew, deep down, that I was going to feel like ass by the morning. I did. I had heartburn all night, not sure why... and slept upright on the couch, which of course means I didn't sleep well or comfortably, so stretches of sleep were short in duration and punctuated by horrid dreams. Geoff woke up at 5 and wanted to watch cartoons, so I put the TV on for him and skulked off to my own bed. I managed another hour of sleep in between Doug's alarm clock going off and him barking orders at me to get up and get Geoff ready for school so he could drive him.

After everyone was gone, I crawled back into bed and slept the sleep of the dead. No dreams. No recollection of letting the dogs out and bringing them back in. Nothing until about 11am when a telemarketer called and woke me up.

I spent the day feeling like warmed over dried out meatloaf that no one wanted. I took a nap. I went to bed at 11:30 and slept more.

I feel a little better now. But the lesson for me is that when you START to feel better, you AREN'T better, you are just on the WAY to better, so you better take it easy still or you will feel infinitely LESS better than the better you thought you felt.

---

It is gorgeous out there today. So gorgeous in fact that I threw Geoff into the truck with the sled and took him up to the sledding hill in town. He hasn't wanted to go this year unless it is like 9 at night and we're all ready for bed. He's had a lot of energy that we're not able to channel when it's beeezin' freeeezin', so this opportunity could not be passed by yours truly to get that boy out there and get some ya yas out.

The sun is shining brightly, and it is a hot sun when you stand in it. There is absolutely no wind... and the console temp my Mighty Truck was registering was 41 degrees. Damn. Feels like friggin Ft. Lauderdale compared to what it felt like just a couple days ago. (The crappy thing is, in two days from now it will be negative 10, which is why I take such joy in 41 friggin' degrees today).

Geoff had a good time sledding. We only spent about a half hour there, but it was just enough without having something for me to park my ass on to sit and watch him come down the hill.

There was a little three year old there with a snowboard and his dad was teaching him how to do it... the kid was so good. Start 'em early. Dad said that he wants to go ski Nashoba or Cannon mountain next... I think when you're three snowboarding the hill in town as well as you do it's good to aim high. Why not?

I've never been snowboarding or downhill skiing. I've cross country skiied a few times, but I found that tedious and boring. Sledding is a great time, but I wished that we had inner tubes instead. Those things fly.

I went down the hill with Geoff once today, and with my added [excessive] weight we motherfuckinheartattackhavin FLEW down that damn hill, I tell you what. By himself he didn't go fast at all, but my heart was in my throat when we went down together. Damn. I would have gone down with him some more, but getting up the hill is a bitch when you don't exactly feel wonderful, and I am applying the "you still aren't 100% better" lesson I learned from the other day.

Here are some quick shots of the boy in action.

Step One: We drag our sleds up the hill, as such, turning around to get one last look at mother. Because we are sure to die!	Step Two: We gauge the terrain and the slope angle, take readings of the relative consistency of the snowcover, determine position on the hill to maximize velocity without being too too scared and ... we stop here.
Step Three: We take forever to position the sled pointing nose-downward and try to get in without sled flipping out from underneath us. We descend, screaming and laughing.	Step Four: We go kooky laughing because that was a rush and we begin again at step one, without looking back this time.

Jessie has a birthday party to go to today, so we've got to get out the door in about 10 minutes. I need a nap after all that sledding action. Hopefully Geoff does too

teabag philosophy

Teabag philosophy is getting me very far today. I'm being calm. The normal me would freak out completely over some of the crap I've had to put up with this morning, but, I am one with the teabag. I live by its wisdom.

"To be calm is the highest achievement of the self."

That's what the teabag said.

So far this morning:

Doug went to take the blue Joymobile this morning because I told him I wanted the truck. I'm supposed to go to Salem today, even with my throat feeling like freshly ground hamburger. He found the battery dead. He handed me back the keys, said "Hope you feel better, sicko." And he left.

I understand that he has to go to work. I just felt kind of abandoned, and very overwhelmed. I sat on the bed and cried. That's the first time in a long time I've done something like that. But when you feel like shit and don't like to be left holding the bag in the first place, it can bring you to tears.

I got some coffee and decided to apply the teabag philosophy to this day. Luckily for me I decided to do so right then and there or I may have had a stroke by 10am.

I called the garage up the street. They still haven't called me back. We quit AAA membership a while back, and now I regret it. But that's okay because I'm calm.

---

Jessica wiped out coming out the door this morning. The girl has decided that she doesn't want to wear her winter boots, she wants to wear her sneakers. I told her that sneaker bottoms don't do well on ice. She told me 'They do just fine!' and then fell down again. Thing is -- she has Doug's saxophone in her hands and the case went flying. Lucky for her it didn't happen out in the street where either her head or the sax would be crushed like a antelope. I gave up looking for the dogs and walked her to the bus. I bitched her out about wearing her sneakers. She hates it when I'm right and she's wrong. But you know something, I was calm about it while I bitched her out and I watched for her at the bus stop. I loved watching her standing in the queue as the bus pulled up. She was first in line, back perfectly erect, eyes front, chin straight out. And I forgot that I was mad at her for being sneaker sassy.

My dogs decided today would be a great day to run away. While I was helping Jessie get up off the ground twice they took off into the deep woods. They were gone for over an hour. I could hear all the neighborhood dogs on the opposite side of the woods barking at them. I was convinced that when they heard the engine of Jessica's bus they'd come running and Jack would chase it and get killed, but they were too far away. I couldn't yell at them to call them home, and I couldn't walk through the woods to go get them, because everything is a sheet of ice. So I went in the house and calmly took a shower. When I got out of the shower, they were sitting on the porch waiting for me. I calmly let them in, put Jack in his kennel, told Kinger he was a bad dog and no one got a cookie the way they do after they come in from outside. I calmly resolve to take them out one by one on the leash until I decide they can behave.

I called and rescheduled my 11am electrolysis appointment to Monday afternoon, and Kay was glad to not have me come in today with strep... I called professor MF, the person I'm supposed to meet in Salem today, and we discussed meeting by phone. She was very cool about it. Normally she'd be in freak-out and panic mode, but she doesn't want what I have anymore than I want her to catch it.

We're doing this presentation at a conference on March 18th, and just a couple days ago it seemed like a million days away. We rescheduled to meet on Tuesday at her house where we can finish our presentation 100%, download portions of the html and pictures from the class and burn everything to a CD so we can run it at the presentation without need for internet access. It'll make it run much faster...

So that left the car and how I was going to get Geoff to school.

My tenant came home from work and loaned me her car. She had about .2 ounces of gas left in the tank, so I had 8 bucks in my pocket and bought her some gas. She's asleep right now, so she won't know until she goes to leave for work at 1pm. She's always so cool about letting me use her car when I have car problems, and I wanted to thank her. I was going to stop and buy her some candy, but I figured the practicality of a nearly full tank of gas (she has a tiny little Toyota with a 10 gallon tank, so eight bucks goes a long way) would be better appreciated.

So. Calmly, everything except jump starting the car has been taken care of. And I'm felling pretty good about myself.

Wouldn't it be amazing if a world religion could just be found and grown upon teabag tags? I'm not saying I'm pitching Christianity for teabag tags, or I'm like Homer Simpson with fortune cookies ("Oh, the cookie never lies!") I'm just saying that little gems of wisdom printed on a tag someplace can change the way you feel once in a while, even if you know you're goofing on it.

Watch, my next cup of tea will say something like "Freaking out and beating someone to a bloody pulp can make you feel really good inside."

---

Speaking of feeling really good inside, my strep is being combated by the wonderful amoxicillin pills that I got prescribed to me.

I took two right when I got the prescription filled, because you're supposed to take three a day, and it was already 1pm... so I wanted to get two in for that far into the day. My second (third) dose was at 9pm. This morning I could swallow when I woke up. I took another pill and some Ibuprofen.

I was able to sleep deeply and comfortably last night, which was great because the night before was just a train wreck. I feel I'm quickly on the mend and that by this time tomorrow I'll be a whole new gal.

---

Talked to Aaron today, glad I'm feeling better because I couldn't talk at all yesterday (seriously -- Amoxicillin is the greatest thing EVER. 24 hours and I feel like a couple thousand bucks. Not quite a million, but better than the 45 cents I felt like yesterday. 45 cents on the floor of a Texas honkytonk with sawdust, beer and puke thrown on it... ). We're devising plans for a St. Patty's day WEEKEND festival. We didn't get to do it last year, even though we bought funny assed foam hats and everything.

So we could be seeing the intrepid world traverser and ice cold water swimmer and his lovely bride in less than 2 weeks. Wooo!

Alright -- I am out of here. I made a gorgeous chicken salad with almonds (mmmmmmmm. so goooooood) and it is calling my name. I'm going to go eat some solid food. Talk to you later.

030303

The thing about yesterday being 030303 was that yesterday's entry could have been (a)musing number 333, but it was 332. Today is 333. Had I done one more entry during the course of the weeks or months prior to that day yesterday, and actually published an 030303 entry, perhaps I could have stopped time, or brought on the onslaught of the apocalypse by half (333 being half of 666).

I'm trying to be funny. I hope you're amused.

---

I'm not feeling very funny. I'm excessively ill. Yesterday I whinged about having a sore throat. By last night it was so hurty that I was crying whenever I tried to swallow. And, when I would start to fall asleep, I'd snore, which hurt and caused me to awaken in pain.

Not so good Al, not so good.

I ended up going out onto the couch and watching Conan O'Brien, dozed for a while, caught a re-broadcast at about 2 am of the Tonight show where Dennis Miller was doing his pro-Kicking Saddam's Ass routine. I've heard it so many times, it was funny and I agreed with a small amount of what he had to say on a serious leve. Once. And not feeling well I was in NO mood to deal with him... so it was off to MTV where I watched rebroadcasts of a couple Real World Episodes (stupid Irulan. You're STUPID!!!) and dozed off and on. Between ice cubes, truckloads of Ibuprofen, cups of hot tea, and lozenges. Six a.m. came early and was filled with major discomfort. My voice sounds like crap -- like I've got a pound of slimy Italian deli meat sitting on the back of my tongue and rubbing up against the roof and back of my mouth. Not a good feeling or a nice sound.

Thing is -- I can't yell at anyone. I can just sigh. Instant Karma for my yelling-at-Geoff situation the other day, I think. Grin. Smirk. Cringe.

I decided when I was on my way to take Geoff to school (he had a wonderful day yesterday and was very agreeable this morning, so the Teabag Philosophy was good to apply to our situation in addition to my inability to speak) that I would go to the Doctor. Glad I did. She swabbed me, and put the swab in the test solution. "It'll take no more than seven minutes to bring back a reading, pro or con." Right as she said that the swab changed to the "You've Got Strep" color. She said... "Wow. That was fast. You really have a bad case of strep!"

She looked in my ear. Infected.

I told her the entire area behind my right nostril below my eye was also hurty. Sinus infection. She wrote a script for anti-biotics and sent me on my way with advice to drink hot tea and ice water, and gargle with hot salty water (don't swallow!) and I should feel better in 24 to 48 hours.

I'm the type of person who does not go to the doctor when I should. Leigh told me in an email that I should... so I listened to her and I did. Knowing me, I would have waited until Friday when it was unbearable, and then I would have dragged ass to the doctor's having suffered three whole days instead of just one night.

By the way, Leigh started a journal under her domain. Go to her main page and click "Breath of Life" to read the beginning entry.

I'm off to go get my script. More eventually. Bleurgh

CEO of company me

I've got a 2nd interview with the place that wants to pay me 11 bucks an hour to be their customer service goddess. The place I turned my nose up at the pay. Here's the thing -- If they offer the job to me, I will certainly take it. But that won't stop me from taking another job as a designer that pays better should that be offered to me at some point down the road.

I always feel guilty thinking that way, but I'm the CEO of company ME, and I have to look out for my company's best interests.

So, cross your fingers, send mojo. The interview is in 1 hour. They called me while I was in the shower and asked if we could push back from 1pm to 2pm. Fine with me, I get to do this quick entry and shave my legs instead of just getting ready and hoping no one notices with the long skirt I'll have on.

---

I woke up in the middle of the night with stabbing pains in my throat. The night time stabbing throat elves were after me. I shoooed them away and went and got cold water and ibuprofen. I feel like shit, and my voice hurts when I talk. Not good to have to walk into an interview with. It doesn't help that I got all unglued with Geoff this morning. For the past couple days he has been acting like a complete jackass, pain in the ass, moron all rolled up into one. This morning we were doing his homework, and he decided to write stupid crap all over it instead of do what he was supposed to do (instead of "Draw a picture of something yellow" he drew red pictures of what he claims is Sonic the hedgehog with lightening. All it was was a collection of scribbles and zigzags. I wouldn't have given a rat's ass if he had used the right COLOR). He fed his breakfast to the dog AGAIN. He refused to dress. He ignores every damn word that comes out of my mouth. So... with three minutes left until it's time to leave, he's still shoeless, homework is fucked, dog is covered in milk, and I lose it.

I'm not proud of getting in my son's face and bitching him out and intimidating him. I feel like I was a complete bully. I ended up spanking him, throwing him into his shoes... we had to stop at the supermarket on the way to school and buy a gallon of milk for his class (he destroyed one yesterday by spitting into it, yet another example of his behavior as of late) and it wasn't until then that I tied his shoes, zipped his coat, straightened out his hair and made us both look presentable.

Gah. I can't wait until we can all get out of the house and go hiking, walking, swimming... something. I'm so overly stressed.

---

And I decide to make myself a cup of tea as I'm getting dressed just now. It's green yogi tea. Smells nice. Very good on the throat.

The philosophical "quippy" or "pink fluffy" (as I like to call it) on the tag says, "To be calm is the highest achievement of the self."

What's the lowest? I'm probably one step above. But I'll take the guidance of the pink fluffy on the teabag. I'll be calm. I'll work on that. I'll repeat the serenity prayer. I'll breathe deeeeeeeeeply before reacting.

I will be as the tea bag tells me to be.

Alright -- to get dressed calmly. To be ready on time and drive over to the interview calmly. To interview with strength and self assuredness, calmly. I will deal calmly wiht my son this afternoon, and assure him I am sorry for my behavior, and let him know that he needs to work harder at doing the right things just as I need to work harder at doing the right things. I'll assure him I love him. I'll handle him calmly. I'll be calm. Can you feel me? Aaaah.

telephony, zap ouch zap ouch. interview.

And now, today's entry will be prempted by a rant by your humble narrator on the incorrect uses of telephony.

Ring, ring [phone answers, thick Eastern Massachusetts accent guy voice starts speaking] - "Thank you for calling the local ice rink in the town next to you. If you know your party's extension, dial it now. For Rick, dial one. For public skating hours, dial two --".

[She presses 2]

[Computer lady pre-programmed by the vendor of the auto attendant begins speaking] -- "That mailbox is full. No further messages can be left in this box. Thank you for calling. Goodbye." [dial tone]

[She redials phone]

"Thank you for calling the local ice rink in the town next to you. If you know your --"

[dials one, for Rick]

"That mailbox is full. No further messages can be left in this box. Thank you for calling. Goodbye." [dial tone]

Her son may want to go ice skating, but unless mommy drives OVER to the ice rink to find out if they rent skates and have pubic skating times, he isn't getting there.

There is nothing that bothers me more in life that poor uses of technology. When the thick Eastern Massachusetts Accent guy starts talking about the local ice rink, he should immediately say "Our Public Skating Hours ARE..." Or, Mailbox number two should just be an announcement box, no opportunity for you to LEAVE a message there, but just a service announcemnt saying when the open skate times are. Or, some schmuck should come in once in a goddamn while and empty the voice mail box.

One would expect that, wouldn't one?

Recently, I called my husband at work. Instead of getting the school secretary, I got the auto attendant. Not knowing what Doug's extension is off the top of my head, I dialed "four for the dial by name directory." Everyone has a dial by name directory on their auto attendant these days. They come in pretty handy.

Doug's name didn't come up in the dialing by name efforts of yours truly.

I had to hit zero to get the operator, and got the beginning of the auto attendant spiel again. I placed the handset of the phone in the base so as not to throw it across the room. Counted to ten. Redialed.

"Blah blah School, Lee speaking," the secretary says.

"Hey Lee, Doug's extension please, but before you send me can I tell you something?" I proceed to inform her that the dial by name directory doesn't have Doug's name in it, and am wondering if she can inform someone so as to get him put in there.

"Well, there are a lot of people not in the dial by name directory. You shouldn't have gotten the auto attendant, I don't know why that happened. I was sitting right here."

"Well, that's not exactly my point. What if it were after or before hours and I had to get ahold of him, and he isn't in the dial by name directory? What would happen then?"

"Well, his extention is 4XXX, you should write that down or try and remember it. Then you won't need the dial by name directory."

"Well, that's not exactly my point. Why HAVE a dial by name directory if it isn't kept up to date with people's names. Doug's been there for like two years now. Isn't someone in charge of that."

"Yeah, I am."

Well BITCH, program his fucking NAME into the AUTO ATTENDANT. Gah! Someone, drive me over there because I'm too pissed to cope, and let me kick her ASS.

What's the point? Why HAVE anything technologically more advanced than a monkey with some post-it-notes and a Crayola crayon if you aren't going to use it and use it CORRECTLY.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled entry.

---

There are a couple things I left out of my last entry because it was getting too long and I had to go help Geoff while he ralphed. Not the bad mommy I make myself out to be, I guess.

I could have sat here and yelled out to the living room "Hey buddy, you okay out there?" and kept typing.

But. Duty called and I went and spent the afternoon cuddling with him on the couch.

He made it through the day Thursday, still had a fever Friday. Doug stayed home with him that day so I could go babysit Mr. Baby Ben (cranky, complainy baby that he was ... I still had a great time with him).

Saturday Geoff was on the mend and the weather was nice. There was a great deal of outdoor play. Doug took a sharp gardening tool and whacked at the ice on the porch in efforts to expedite melting. Today it is pouring and we seem to be housebound. I predict insanity taking over my grey matter by about 3pm.

Anyway -- I had meant to write about electrolysis. I started going in early January, have been about six times now. Here's the experience thus far.

Earlier I'd mentioned that I'd become a fat bearded lady, and that was, of course, complete hyperbole. I am fat. Not totally beardy. But the hair management issues on my face were getting out of control, so I figured I'd have to do something soon.

Contemplated bleaching, but realized that long blonde hair growing out of my face was just as unappealing to me as tiny little stubbly black hairs which I pluck at.

Tried waxing a couple times, only to realize I'd pulled out all the baby fine hairs which were mixed in with the thicker, darker hairs. So what I ended up with was four times the amount of thick, dark hair. Realized at that point I had to do something serious. I asked my dermatologist and he recommended electrolysis. He told me that laser treatments were faster but excessively expensive so I shouldn't even think of going that route...

I called around and found a nice lady right in my downtown. I made an appointment to go meet with her for a consultation. Her name is "Kay" for the purpose of this journal. She checked me out and said it'd probably take about a year to fully kill off the hair cells, that initially I'd need to come see her once a week but after about three months that would turn into bi-weekly, then monthly towards the end for touch ups. She showed me the machinery, the way it works, and how she uses new tips on the zapping thingy for each patient.

We laughed and joked. I asked her if she had any transsexual patients and she said they mostly use the training schools to get free treatment because full body electrolysis would break the bank. She told me some great stories about people she met. Men who have to hide the fact they get this done in their ears from their business associates, transsexual, crazy women who want their entire boudoir areas zapped (man, that's GOTTA hurt).

She got serious, no more stories of bank executives having their nostrils zapped, and educated me on how hair cells are killed. It takes a long period of time before the hair cells stop production and that plucking stimulates them (although I've heard people say that hair is hair and nothing stimulates hair growth, that if plucking was to stimulate hair growth men would do that all the time to prevent baldness...).

The price was very reasonable, and urban myths aside about hair, shaving, electrolysis and the like, I decided I'd go ahead and do it.

In just six treatments I see such a tremendous difference. It's astounding. Where I was picking at my face for a half hour a day almost every damn day and leaving it raw and red, now I spend 20 minutes getting zapped and don't have to think about it until close to a week later.

Kay is very nice and funny, and merciful. I'm a real wussbag, and so she keeps it on the lowest setting for me because I can't hack how it hurts. She told me about a prescription I can get which numbs the treated area effectively. So I may go and look into that.

Now mind you, I won't let her touch my eyebrows because that will hurt like DEATH. I'm not doing this to become some sort of slick looking cover girl model with perfect brows... If she did my brows I'd end up needing eyebrow pencil to make them look right, and I have visions in my head of a woman who volunteered at our high school who had her eyebrows REMOVED and used eyebrow pencil to draw them in. I don't want to end up like her. I'd rather leave that which I do not like in fear of what could possibly happen instead. I'm sure she'd do a nice job. But pain and fear keep me focused on the chin area, and I'll stay the course there before I venture elsewhere. And no... I will not get my boudoir area zapped. That's just too painful to contemplate.

---

Leigh is home from the hospital. She sent me a long and very funny email about her adventures in hospital food. I'm glad she's back home, and wish her great success in healing. Keep her in your prayers still, as in the winter any major surgery kind of thing leaves one susceptible to infection or sickness after, and we don't want that.

---

Got to chat a bunch more with Aaron now that he is back from the bottom of the world. We are trying to decide when a good time is to get together for a visit. He told me that folks in New Zealand were very interested in whether or not he voted for George W. Bush. He didn't, but would answer "I in effect did by voting for Ralph Nader." And then they'd get into a totally huge discussion about politics and the world arena.

Folks had told him before traveling around that he should tell people that he was Canadian instead of American. He pissed on that idea, mostly because he's proud to be American and because he knew it would be more interesting when he met people if he held his honesty.

I think I would have done the same. I'm not ashamed one iota to BE an American. Sometimes I think the things our country does politically and globally are foolish and stupid, but I wouldn't deny the fact that I enjoy the freedoms afforded me by being a citizen of this country. I think that we take ownership of our nation's successes with great pride, and we should also take the same ownership of our collective mistakes. Nuff said here about politics and my opinion.

---

Got passed over for another job. I'd gotten a call during the week from a recruiter who had a job that started on MONDAY (as if!) and he wanted to put me in it, so he had me come in for a full interview with him. I told him that from the description of the job, they were looking for someone with a lot more server-end experience than I had. And while MOST of the servers I've dealt with I've managed to figure out problems simply by reading a book, I have no experience with IIS or any Microsoft web serving technologies.

They liked my resume a lot, and the company itself said they would have hired me with my design experience on the spot if I had more back room knowledge.

Duh? I told you that, Mr. Recruiter Man.

But he said that based on our interview he was sure there was something out there for me and he was "going to find it as soon as he could."

Knock yerself out, cowboy.

He was really nice, in all seriousness. Thing with recruiters is, they want a warm body, any warm body, that they can shove at a client and say "Here he/she is!!! This is the ONE!" so they can get their commission. I told the guy up front this was not the job for me, but he insisted... I had nothing better to do that day. I had fun interviewing. I always do. But I am glad he didn't consider it a waste of his time to have me there...

I was once sent on an interview by a recruiter after telling her that I had no Flash knowledge. I was working at the college and looking for something new. I took a day off, went to Portsmouth NH for this interview, walked in there and the first thing out of the guy's mouth was "Blahblah Stupid Recruiter Bitch Lady told me you've got an extensive Flash portfolio. What's the URL?"

I told him that Blahblah Stupid Recruiter Bitch Lady was sorely mistaken and had lied to him, unless he was confusing me with someone else.

"Nope, she told me your name. You're my 10am, right? Yup. You're being shopped to me as a Flash guru."

I sighed and informed him that he should get on the phone and rip her a new bodily orifice, because she just wasted his time, and my time. We went through my portfolio, we had a nice interview. He thanked me for coming and let me know that they wanted a 100% Flash driven site and they needed it before I could learn how to do it, but he'd keep my resume handy in case something came up.

He must have called Blahblah Stupid Recruiter Bitch Lady and done what I told him to do, because I never heard from that agency again. Un Be Liev A Ble.

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There's not much going on here, and I should go keep Geoff entertained before he breaks something out of boredom. I guess that's about it. Have a super rainy Sunday all y'all