The Little House of the Big Price Tag

June 29, 2005 | Category: In My Life

Once CD got home from work today, we piled into the van and went for a drive to meet with a realtor and take a tour of this house.

In case the link doesn't work, heres a picture:

Let me tell you what $400K won't buy you in Oak Park, IL. It won't buy you a driveway, a bathroom on the first floor, an eat-in kitchen, a working fireplace, central air conditioning, or square footage.

Oh, and the front rooms were bright orange.

I guess the best part of the whole tour was CD, walking with me and holding my hand. Knowing that he was finally trying to really understand who much it hurts my soul to live in this chaos and being open to solutions.

Another baby step to good.

The Talk

| Category: In My Life

Well, I talked to Elia last night.

She was apologizing before I got my first sentence out; she knew she'd made some very poor decisions.

It was awful. Just emotionally yucky. There are hundreds and hundreds of people I have managed but for 4 years, she has been one of the foundation rocks of Bear's life.

We left things on a positive note with clear rules.

I am praying that she is able to work through this profound emotional confusion that being in love for the first time is having on her.

Inflexible Git

June 28, 2005 | Category: In My Life

OK, you know what? I have had a good long think and I've decided that it is perfectly ok to be pissed off.

In fact, I think that being pissed off in the moment is probably a much healthier way of life rather than stewing.

Elia is taking advantage of the situation and she's crossed the line.

I don't even KNOW this boyfriend - like his last name or driving record or if he's a frigging pedophile. So she shouldn't be putting my son in HIS car (without a carseat when I JUST told her that she is never never to do that) and then WALKING AWAY.

Good Heavens.

What am I, made of mashed potatoes?

So my standards are high. So what?! I'm the Mommy, I get to have the highest dang standards in the land if I want to - right?

Well, now I am good and steamed. Seriously. You could cook salmon on the mist that's rolling out my ears. I'm gonna go call Elia and lay done the law.

And then I am gonna do something else. Like go for a walk. Chase fireflies. Whatever.

I am woman.

Hear me roar!

I have to stop being such an inflexible git.

(Which is British for "Childish Pain the Ass")

Elia let Bear ride in her boyfriend's car today for a few blocks - without his carseat - and without her (but with his seatbelt) when it started to rain while they were at the park. (She walked home the other kids but wanted to make sure Bear stayed dry).

Bear's camp informed Elia when she picked Bear up that they were having a party tomorrow and we had to bring this that and the other thing of food.

My boss tried to force me to work during the only hour I had blocked off as unavailable tomorrow and even tried to get me to explain why I wouldn't make a last-minute meeting.

And all three of these things just made me mad.

It's summer, and lovely, and we have weeks and weeks of fun ahead. But I have turned brittle, and dry, and, yes, inflexible with my moods - things just seem to piss me off a little too easy. Since my health scare a couple of weeks ago, I am on edge.

Nightmares

June 27, 2005 | Category: In My Life

There are tapes in my head that I can not shut off. They become nightmares and I surrender my sleep to them.

The victims of the terrorists in Beslan.

The children unprotected from idiot busdriviers.

The AIDS orphans.

The children, hurt anywhere, anytime.

The echo of me falls to her knees, nauseaus, engraged, impotent.

So we're at a little boy's 5th birthday party on Saturday afternoon. Bear is romping with about 25 other little kids in this little gymnasium. Us parents are on the other side of the pony wall, watching teenagers corral our kids with bubbles and games of "Simon Says".

One mother, one of the many, many soically-sconscious-used-to-be-a-supermodel types that we know from Bear's school (no, I'm only a LITTLE freaked out by them) turns on the little stool and says to us standing-up ones (me, personally, afraid to break the little stools or look ridiculous like an elephant in a tutu balancing on a pin) and she says....

"Did you all here about those boys..."

"Oh," I interrupted, glancing at the children. "Let's not..."

"The ones who were missing..."

"Please, no," I interrupt again. There is nowhere to go in this storefront zoo. There is a strip of floor, 20 foot by 5 foot, and she's smack dab in the middle.

"I was watching CNN and they had it almost immediately..."

I walked as far away as I could but her voice still resonated. The teenaged kid-wranglers blasted some music in waves. Some demented version of musical chairs.

"The trunk closed automatically...."

Is that Freebird? A muzak version of Freebird? Oh, that's just wrong.

"And they couldn't get out..."

Oh, those parents. Please, no....

"Just baked. Hours, maybe days..."

She has to shut up now, right?

"Can you imagine...?"

Yes. God. Please. No.

No.

Just a Post before I go

June 24, 2005 | Category: Mother to the First Power

Knowing that each day we prepare him more and more to head off into the world and find his own bliss, I try and grab the moments now. While he is young. And press them into my memories...

I lasted until 4:20PM today and then I couldn't stand it any more. I called my neighbor, who was watching Bear, and told her I was on my way to get my kid.

He met me at the door. Covered in the remnants of a day - paint splotches, popsicle juice, lunch stains, dirty knees.

He grinned.

I grinned back.

I touched his hair, his face, and then hugged him close.

We gathered up his stuff, treasures, extra clothes and trouped back to our house. My neighbor followed with his carseat, and as we were putting it back in the van, Bear announced he was tired.

I suggested he go in the house and rest in the air conditioning while I finished chatting with our neighbor.

A few minutes later, I followed.

In the doorway, his sandals.

On the couch, his hat.

On the table, his treasures.

In his bed, nearly zonked, Bear.

"Hi," I said softly, pulling up the sheet.

"Hi," he said with a yawn and drooping eyes.

"Why didn't you nap over at the neighbor's house?"

"It was fun there. But I like sleeping at home the best." he said.

"Hmm," I agreed.

"I missed you," he said, as he reached out and pulled my hand to his chest and closed his eyes. Then he fell into sleep.

And I melted. Quietly, so I wouldn't wake him.

What would you save?

| Category: Well, That Was Random

I had a dream last night (probably caused by this amazing picture over at the Blue Sloth) that my house was hit by lightning and burned down (also a little wishful thinking?!)...

Of course, CD and Bear and the furry beasties and even Big Fish and Little Fish got out safely.

But then I realized (in my dream) that I had to go back in and save....

My Hard Drive.

After all, it has all Bear's pictures on it - from birth to this ast weekend - on it. All my writing. All the letters and addressess....

What about you? What things would you save?

The Start of Goodbye

June 22, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Yesterday started the night before. We packed, and hemmed, and ironed, and organized. Collapsed into bed so late that when the alarm went of at 5:30AM, we resisted. But eventually we did pull ourselves up and into the day.

6:30AM We started for the car, although it took about 20 more minutes before we had finished running back into the house for "one more thing" and actually pulled out of the driveway.

7:00AM Bear dropped off at Elia's, we headed to Midway Airport for our flight to Boston.

8:00AM Midway security being the clusterfudge of all time, it took us over 45 minutes to get through the scan line. They were announcing our names over the loudspeaker as we scrambled to our gate.

[time change + 1 hour]

11:30AM It is a running joke in my family that I can't get a ride from Logan Airport. Today was no different. We caught the "Silver Line" - a bus that becomes a subway. We switched over to the red line to MIT (Kendall Square).

Met up with my mom and brother and we all grabbed a quick bite at the food court. It was easy just to chat, look through the most recent Bear pictures, and share a laugh and pretend that it was just another day.

But then it was time to head over to MIT's unique chapel for the service.

1:45PM The whole family gathered in an anteroom. The lovely obituaries mention 2 nephews and 1 niece. But families are more than common blood; marriages and children created 17 people who called this amazing man "Uncle Mike".

2PM We approached the chapel in pairs as a lone bagpiper stood in the dappled shade by the entrance and played the mourners in. It finally hit me why we were there.

Mike had attended MIT from undergraduate through doctorate and then returned to teach. The eulogists had pulled his school records going all the way back to the beginning. It was bittersweet to hear how he'd always been special, always been kind and smart, always been more interested in the questions than the answers.

Another of my uncles talked about Mike, the guy. The one who loved to laugh, who joined in on games of Rail Baron, loved crosswords and was always interested in the world.

Then my cell phone went off. It took 4 rings for me to silence it.

[insert several moments of embarressment here]

His co-workers talked about Mike's amazing teaching skills and genuine rapport and devotion to his students. One brought with him a book that contained the thousands of emails the school had received from all the people who'd heard of Mike's passing and had to reach out and tell someone how much Mike had meant to them.

Most of us count ourselves lucky if we have a pond of people whose lives we touch in any meaningful way.

Mike had a rushing, roaring river.

Mike was universally recognized for being an amazing teacher and advisor. He won the sardonic Big Screw Award, the prestigious Baker Award, and at one point he had won MIT's "Outstanding Faculty Member of the Year" for 10 years straight.

At the end of the memorial, it was announced that MIT was renaming that last award after Mike.

3PM We walked up 3 flights of stairs to the reception. A long dark-clad line of solemn faces past chattering students who watched us with curious eyes.

I pulled into a corner at one point to check my phone. It had been Elia. I quickly called back and discovered that there had been a misunderstanding about the child seat but Dee had taken care of it. As I was talking, I looked up and realized I was surrounded by a small crowd of family friends waiting express their sympathy.

We walked together into the large reception room. The food was amazing, but I couldn't taste it.

I put on what CD calls my "Chatty Cathy" persona - I was engaging and talkative and accessible.

I was miserable.

4:15PM With red eyes and wrenched hearts, a cousin, CD, & I grabbed a cab back to Logan. Windows down to the hot Boston sun, we looked out at the blue water and the brick apartment buildings as we rolled by.

5:30PM There's a Legal Seafood inside Boston's airport. As we sat down, my boss call my cell phone. I answered it long enough to tell him to go away.

Then the 3 of us ordered strong cocktails and ordered food and talked about how the rest of the family was doing. As if we were doing any better.

Well, after an hour or so, maybe we were.

[time change - 1 hour]

8:00PM We landed into the Chicago sunset. Last hugs and off to our car and home.

As we drove, CD talked about the tour Mike had given him and Bear of MIT last summer - before we knew Mike was sick. Before the end began.

They'd gone to Mike's classroom and office, had lunch in the cafeteria.

Mike told CD how there's an aisle at MIT called "the infinite corridor". In what has become a sort of ceremony ("MITHenge" [thanks, Kimberly!]), twice a year all the doors along the corridor are opened and people line the sides and then, just at the right moment, the sun will shine through from begining to end.

I would like to think that, somehow, from now on, whenever they throw open those doors, Mike's spirit will be there. Traveling the sunbeam along the rows of rapt students, teachers, and staff.

[I thought I'd done with tears, but I was wrong.]

We pulled into the driveway and Bear came racing from the backyard into my arms. As I held him tight, he whispered to me "Did you say goodbye to Uncle Mike?"

And I kissed him hard. "Not yet," I told him. "Not just yet."

Befuddled, Flappity, Go

June 21, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

I was responding in the comments, but it got so dang long....

First of all, let me say thank you for commenting and sharing your opinions. It's been a long day, but after reading what you had to say I think that maybe I was old-fashioned, and maybe I am too quick to judge.

But either way, I'll stand by the decision I made today. I believe it is inappropriate for caregivers to a) not pay attention to the children in their care and b) model behavior ("resting" in a horizontal position on a couch with a man or telling my son that boyfriends/girlfriends sleep together) without talking it over with me.

For me, this is an issue of personal responsibility and professional boundaries. Elia and CD and I absolutely must have a conversation about what is OK and isn't in this new territory.

And we need to know her boyfriend a LOT better before Bear spends time with him in a situation where they may be alone.

But we didn't have time for that conversation between yesterday and today, which is why I had my friend check on her and Bear today. (I mentioned this to Elia; "Dee will be by a lot today, making sure you two are all right here on your own".)

I am happy that Elia is in love, for her sake. I am happy to see her happy.

It was mean-spirited of me to bemoan the fallout, and I feel bad about that.

But about being paranoid? As a parent, I think I will always fall on the side of paranoia - and apologize later, if needed.

It's like we say to Bear; "Safety First".

Befuddled

June 20, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

After 4 years, the worst things I can say about my babysitter, Elia, are that she doesn't drive and she lets Bear have his way too much. Otherwise, she has been the light that makes the rest of my life possible.

Until now.

Now? Now that dang woman has fallen in looooooooove.

At thirty-something. That shy, sweet, pretty girl of ours is all manicured and fluffy hair and grinning like a cat at an all you can eat canary buffet.

Every once in a while, we let Bear spend the afternoon at her house. It is a duplex, with her brother and his family on the larger half. His two sons are about Bear's age and the three of them pound from room to room like a small herd of water buffalo.

Today, as I was dropping Bear off, Elia brought the gregarious man to meet me. He talked fast and actually tried interpreting her to me at one point, being helpful in a way that was not quite appropriate (Elia and I speak a form of our own Spanglish that does us quite well).

After I picked Bear up, he chattered on and on and in that monologue somewhere was the disturbing news that at one point, when he went back to Elia's side of the house, she was lying on the couch with her new boyfriend "Taking a nap".

"Boyfriends and girlfriends take naps together on a couch," Bear told me.

The rest of the afternoon, from what I understand, went smoothly and there were no more incidents.

But now there are bats in my stomach.

Big. Bats.

Flappity, flappity....

Meanwhile, CD and I are flying out tomorrow morning for my Uncle's memorial at M.I.T. We'll turn around and be back tomorrow night. But to be on the safe side, I've asked my firend Dee to stop by the house - a lot.

For more than 4 years, I've known in my gut that this woman would throw herself in front of a bus to save my son. But now, she's suddenly 13 with no boundaries or sense left in her head.

Flappity.

Flappity....

What's In A Name?

June 19, 2005 | Category: In My Life

Pleasantville is this|close to Chicago and the residents are an eclectic mix; you got yuppies rehabbing the big old homes with granite countertops, you got working class folks in the small rows of brick bungalows with perfect postage-stamp lawns, you got every color, religion, sexual orientation.

So I keep expecting the town employees to reflect that.

Not so much.

Thursday I picked up Bear from his summer camp. This is a morning program being held at one of the fabulous parks. The teacher, "Miss Lilly May", is a frenzied middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and a big smile.

She was (finally) instituting security by having parents sign their children in and out.

She watched closely as I carefully signed my name next my husband's (who'd dropped Bear off).

Her brow scrunched.

She pursed her lips.

"Are you signing on the right line, dear?"

I tapped Bear's name and dragged my finger to mine down the dotted line.

"You didn't sign clearly, did you? I can't read your name."

I touched it up to make it clearer and the furrows in her brow became downright trenches. She began fishing through the registration cards.

"I thought Bear's last name was 'Daddy'?"

"Yes, and mine is 'Corporate Mommy'," I replied.

"Which?"

"Both."

"With a hyphen, you mean?"

"No. Like Mary Tyler Moore or Dick Van Dyke. My name is Elizabeth Corporate Mommy."

"Oh," she heaved a sigh. "So you're divorced."

"I'm married to Bear's father," I said.

"Then who is the man who drops Bear off in the mornings?"

"Bear's father."

"And who is your husband?"

"Bear's father."

"Then your name is Elizabeth Daddy?"

"No."

We stared at each other for a long moment, and I could tell that she didn't much appreciate me cracking her cosmic egg. Now, if only I'd been wearing my recently bedazzled women's libber t-shirt, then she'd have had fair warning. But ah, no.

"I need you to sign your legal name. For security pruposes," she told me.

"For security purposes? Are the police reviewing this register?"

"In case of emergency, we need to know if the parents picked up the children. Could you sign it 'Elizabeth Daddy' for me here?" she tapped the register where I had already written my name onto the dotted line.

"No. My legal name, my only name, is Elizabeth Corporate Mommy. It is on that registration card," I said, indicating the white card in her hands.

"They didn't ask you for identification when you signed up?"

"No, but my identification is in the name Elizabeth Corporate Mommy."

She huffed at me, clearly peeved. "Once you married, you have a legal name change whether you use it or not," she informed me. "It's security issue."

"Me signing a fake name would be a security issue," I told her.

She sighed again, and put the cards down. "Well, I'll talk to the Camp Director and see what he wants to do about it," she informed me with a bit of a snarl.

"You do that," I agreed.

Yeah, you do that, Lady.

I didn't see THAT one coming!

June 18, 2005 | Category:

Did anyone else know these two were even seeing each other?! I mean - WHAT A SHOCK! That wily Tommy, always keeping his little secrets, huh?

Tom and Katie Engaged! - Yahoo! News

Parenting Magazine thinks I'm provactive? Obviously they've never seen me in my flannel jammies!

June 17, 2005 | Category: In My Life

Eagle-eyed Grace reports that Corporate Mommy is mention in the July 2005 Parenting Magazine on page 57. She says

you can find it under the heading "Creating an online journal" and yours is under the subheading "and check out..." The blurb under your link is 'This Chicago mom writes provocative entries about balancing work and family."

Can anyone confirm this?!?!?!?!

UPDATE: Lilan Patri at Parenting Magazine provided the link. You can view Parenting's blogging article online here.

Status Review Process

| Category: On The Job

Plaid Jammies? check!
Fan blasting? check!
Cell phone OFF? check!
Logged out of all instant messengers? check!
Dunkin Donut's decaf? check! *wait, um, it's almost empty. dang.*
ACDC's "Back in Black" LOUD enough to shake my keyboard? check! I said CHECK!!

Will 1200 rows of data be audited and updated in preparation for review by executives in 45 minutes?

You bet yer sweet patootie.

Day One of the Rest of My Life

June 15, 2005 | Category: In My Life

OK, it is Day 1 of the Rest of my Life. Here's the plan, taking a half-day and eliminated 20 items from my tickler list. Here's what's left:

P.S. Yes, the manicure and pedicure are important. Haven't had them in, uh...
P.P.S. And yes, I have already send most of the condolence notes. And I would appreciate it, terribly, if no one else would pass away for at least a year. K?
P.P.S. Yes, the VP thing is a medium deal. My boss is having 3 run-throughs. IF it goes well, my budget will finally be released and I can really start work.
P.P.P.S Yes, I am putting off the outfit decision for Uncle Mike's memorial until Kalisah gets back to me on the all important shoe decision.
P.P.P.P.S. After watching "Second Sight" on BBCA last night, oh yeah Clive Owen is SO totally my new celebrity boyfriend. I know Beth is pregnant and all, but hey - that doesn't mean she can't share!

And the doctor said...

June 14, 2005 | Category: In My Life

So the EKG's have indicated that the elephant I felt sitting on my chest on Friday was not a heart attack. It looks like it was just a very high spike in blood pressure combined with bad indigestion (yay for stomach aches!). I still have to undergo a cardiac stress test and some blood tests, but this is the doctor saying he really thinks my heart is all right.

We are going to change the way my blood pressure is being addressed. Instead of taking a big-prescription pill every night, I am going to be taking my own blood pressure several times during the course of the day and taking a more mild prescription to assist.

The reason for this is that my blood pressure is something called "labile" which I guess means spikes up and down in a very responsive way to outside influences. I guess my previous doctor responded by just prescribing the biggest dose to address the worst of the spikes - but that meant I'v actually had very low blood pressure in between. This group wants me to be much more involved - taking measures when my blood pressure rises to relax, go for a walk, stay hydrated.

To give you an idea, my BP went from 120/98 to 140/110 in about 15 minutes this afternoon. The difference was the first was taken when I arrived, the second was taken just after my EKG and before I had the results.

So environmental changes like adding more excersize, continuing a healthy diet, and managing my priorities (God/work/family/self) in a more reasonable manner would actually make a huge difference for me.

I feel like I've just had a HUGE wake-up call.

Boggle, Blink, I found my gastric twin....

June 13, 2005 | Category: In My Life

I knew there was a reason I liked this guy - tuirns out he's my gastric twin! As I was reading this post at Random Pensées, I realized wow! ... someone else who shares my tastes in food!

(Pun intended)

Do you know how AMAZING it is that someone else also thinks that summer is made for soft belly clam rolls, fresh corn, and tomato/onion/bleu cheese salad?

Do you know what a food MUTANT I thought I was?

PROOF:

"...Speaking of summer (note correct capitalization), may I say that I need more fried summer foods. Specifically, fried belly clams. Them's fine eating. Seriously, there are certain things I feel one has to eat in the summer time, when the living is easy, catfish jumping *whap*. Down boy, down. Back to my thought, things one has to eat during the summer include, but are not limited to: fried clams; lobster (I actually like mine broiled over boiled or steamed); steamers; raw clams; watermelon; ripe local tomatoes mixed with raw onion and blue cheese (my four year old loves this, go figure); an ear of corn picked no more than an hour before; berries and cream; grilled burgers (Jim's look good, I'll take two, Jim!); and, surely, a peach so gloriously ripe that the juice runs down your chin and stains your shirt."

Sick

| Category: In My Life

It's extremely aggravating not to be healthy.

In any event, last week after a series of poor decisions on my part and bad, horrible news from the world, I had a little incident with my blood pressure.

Now I must make a series of good decisions in order to claim a healthier life.

I don't know why I keep messing up my priorities. I need to tape a sign over my desk - "Failure to plan on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine".

And stick to it.

Off to the doctor's.

A tribute to a fine man

June 10, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Blessed to know him, and have the joy of his company throughout my life. And saddened, beyond words, that he is gone from this world.

Uncle Mike's Obituary. (Link available upon request)

Bad Timing, Jamie

| Category: In My Life

Here is the email she sent me today:

Hi Elizabeth:

I came across your Ravings of a Corporate Mommy blog and found it very interesting. My name is Jamie and I work for RDF Media and ABC's Wife Swap and we are currently looking for interesting families to participate in our show.

If you're interested I have attached further information regarding our show. If it at all possible it would be great if you could direct me to any other families or blogs that may be interested in this great opportunity. Feel free to email me at jamiebmoore@gmail.com or Sandra Philippeaux at Sandra.Philippeaux@rdfusa.com.


Thanks!

If you're interested, feel free to contact Jamie! She says it is a GREAT OPPORTUNITY!

As for me?

Jamie,

Thank you for the email. I wish you great luck with the show but, personally, I'd rather stick a needle in my eye.

Wrmst rgds,
Elizabeth
aka Corporate Mommy

Pardon my dust

| Category: In My Life

If you notice some silliness or silly puttiness around the site, it is because we just loaded Photoshop and such on the new system and I can't sleep and I'm have professionals overhaul the site so why the hell not screw with things and learn a bit?

Or not.

Goodbye, Uncle Mike

June 09, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

My beloved Uncle passed away this morning.

The world is a little dim today, for he was a bright light. Survived by his amazing wife and daughter, family and friends who delighted in his humor and his gentle intelligence, and the thousands of students who considered him a blessing and who worked diligently to be among those he would lead into graduation each year.

He loved life. He loved people. And we loved him.

Farewell to thee! but not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me.
-Anne Bronte

Huzzah for the Big Boy Bear!

| Category: Mother to the First Power

I rarely do this *ahem*, but HUZZAH for my son Bear!

This morning was his second night without a Pull-up and no accident!!!!

*clapping*

CD and I knew from before he was born that we were, perhaps, maybe, a little enthusiastic as parents. Him having the sonogram tattooed to his stomach was a bit of a clue.

"And see here?" CD would say. "That's his foot! See how he's flexing it? Well, we've talked to the leading-most soccer players in the world. In fact, we called up Pele, you know? And they ALL AGREE that this flex here is indicative that Bear will be a championship central forward!"

No, really.

And we're still paying off that billboard from when Bear slept through the night at 6 weeks. And when he stood at 3 months. When he started talking, walking, and singing. When he potty-trained before his 3rd birthday after we explained the school needed him to be in big-boy underwear.

Sheesh. Like we're the first.

No, really.

We know, the 3 of us, that it is mostly a matter of chance. But if you know us, then you know that it is not just the milestones themselves - it is the sangfroid and humor with which our son seems to handle them.

A few days ago, Bear informed CD that he didn't want to wear Pull-ups to bed anymore. He's experimented with going without in the past, but his body didn't wake him up before he wet the bed - which was a yucky feeling to wake up to. So we'd go back to Pull-ups pretty quick.

But he's been waking up dry most of the time for weeks so this time was really it.

Yesterday morning, Day 1 of No Pull-Ups, I went in to talk with Bear as he was waking up.

Me: You're dry and no Pull-up!

Bear, smiling a little: Yeah.

Me: How does that feel?

Bear: It's good. I like it better with no Pull-up.

I nodded.

This morning:

Me: Another morning and no Pull-up!

Bear: Yeah.

Me: Wow, is that exciting?

Bear: No.

Me: No?

Bear (giving me a sigh and an indulged look): Mom, it's just underwear.

Requiem for a Hard Drive

June 08, 2005 | Category: In My Life

Let's take a moment to remember F:/, the little drive that could...

Steadfast for years as a sturdy companion to C:/, and D:/, it passed over this weekend to the Land Where Hard Drives Choke, Rattle, and Die.

In its last moments, chilled from a stay next to the Klondike Bars and Omaha Steak Tips in the family freezer, it gave up its most precious secrets. A flow of bits and dats and bytes and pauses through a ribbon attaching it to a new system. As it pulsed its last, the gigs of information spewed with haste to a new host, did it know? Did it know that it was moments away from the final sieze that would forever consign its future to that of a doorstop?

We can only hope that it was painless, and unaware.

We remember F:/ with that sort of antiseptic fondness for which all Microsoft-formatted systems incur. The handicap of not being a Mac never showed in any tangible way on F:/'s surface activtities but, of course, one wonders about what could have been.

F:/ was only briefly survived by its longtime mates C:/ and D:/. In the brutal reality that is the computer world, those drives were quickly tainted with F:/'s failure and emptied of their contents. Within days, they too were cast aside.

As a new system is built with the ghosts of what went before, we remember F:/. The drive that lasted, improbably, for the better half of a decade. The drive that is now at rest after nobly serving for so very long.

Good night, F:/. And thank you.

And on tonight's menu

June 07, 2005 | Category: Recipes

Well, that was a little political, even for me.

*exhale*

Can you tell? It's been a bad week. I've worked past 2AM 3 times in the last 6 days in order to pull together the detailed plan (MPP for you technogeeks) of my latest project. In case you're wondering, that is 1000 lines of plan including: predecessors, resources, task descriptions, costs, rates, assumptions, durations, hours, milestones and deliverables to roll up to a previous time & materials estimate within 10%.

Formatted to an ever-changing list of specifications. For example, "Please now use group names as attached"; "Rates for architects have been changed"; "An organizational edit is immediately requested that all milestones be 0 hour 0 duration and in red, italic, arial 9 pt."

In triplicate.

And then the hard drives, in a suicide pact that we've feared for months (despite copious counseling and pleas), all died.

And then? Working in my bedroom as my office rebuild goes on and on and on? Got just a wee bit confining. (Oh! Wait! *looks around* I'm still IN the bedroom!)

And we still haven;t decided whether to move or to stay or what.

And did I mention that it got really, really hot outside?

So, you know. All things in perspective - healthy, solvent family yada yada yada. But I'm a little zonked.

As of now, we're turning this emotional cruise ship around.

First, dinner: Omaha steak tips, marinated overnight in teryaki and then broiled. Light homemade potato salad (yes, my famous receipe). And a big glass of limeade.

Then: FoodTV in front of the air conditioner.

Finally: 8 hours of sleep.

Tomorrow is another day.

*pondering the fact that no one seems to be out there. are you ok out there? is your world zonked, too? I've got extra steak tips...*

No one to dance with

| Category: In My Life

There's a part of me that would love to be invited to groups like the Cotillion, where women bloggers who are sharp, witty, and passionate swap their stories to expand their dialogue and audience.

But then I remember that I am a Leftist Pinko Abortion-loving Godless heathen. Even if I found a way to crash the party, I'd have no one to dance with.

Oh, yes. It turns out that I am the enemy.

I read it, so it must be true.

Now, I'm not like like the Queen Enemy. Heck, I'm not even cool enough to wear sweatshop-made bracelets around my fat wrist to announce that I am against poverty and hunger and bad stuff like that.

Well, maybe I AM cool enough, but only because I am sucking about eleventy billion gallons of oil right now to chill my house so that I can turn around and sleep under a comforter made by off-shoring good ol’ USA jobs to underage Malaysian children.

I'm just a tent pole in the enemy camp. I SIP the kool-aid. I FEEL for the people wearing those bracelets. I ALIGN with them. Because Brad Pitt is a hottie. So is Angelina. And I am like the swallows to Capistrano, yes. Where Brad and Angelina tell me to pray, that's where I pray.

You see, it's just like Pat Buchanan suspected all along. Yes! It is TRUE and I can no longer deny it! We Liberal anti-marriage morally corrupt traitors DO hang out together in a secret cave plotting ways to defame that paragon on honest leadership, George W. Bush ("Don't call me junior"!).

We have flow charts and PowerPoint slides and we carefully transcribe all our evil machinations into action items every night and publish them with a secret decoder ring. Then we hit Dunkin Donuts for a cup of Joe and a sprinkled donut.

Hell, yes. I hate America.

Also? Mom, Apple Pie, and all U.S. Soldiers.

Wait.

I'm lying.

*sigh*

She reads this and even to be a rocking Hollywood scum I could never deny her.

Mom, I love you. Sorry about what I said there.

Also?

The soldier I married. Yeah, I love you, too, you socialist-raised crazy man.

Shit.

The truth is that I love God. I mean, really love God. And Jesus, too.

I also love America, Apple Pie, and pretty much every drum-banging parade I've ever been to.

Crap, I'm a LOUSY liberal.

I'm losing my membership card over this, aren't I? And dagnabbit, wouldn't you know that I JUST had my "Radical Libber" t-shirt bedazzled and dry-cleaned.

OK, you got me. I just can't stand up to your amazing tactics of stereo-typing. I give, ok? I GIVE.

Turns out that even though I vote Democrat most of the time, I am not the Conservative's enemy. Sure, wouldn't this world be a better place if us pessimistic evildoing ACLU types just stuck to script so that those nice people who think the flag belongs just on their flagpoles would know who the bleeping bad guys are?

I guess in the meantime I'll just have to look like every other American at the local park playing with my kid. Maybe they'll just have to actually strike up a conversation with me to see what I believe.

Maybe they'll discover that in some ways, I may be the opposition.

But never the enemy.

Oh, never mind. Then what fun would bashing us be?

Creepy Guys

June 02, 2005 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

My neighbor, Jonesie, came over today as we were saying goodbye to my mom. She told us that yesterday, while we were all out, she saw a group of kids sitting on our front steps.

These guys were familiar to us.

They are a white suburban pack of gansta hoodlum wannabes. They dress like the Unabomber or city punks. They are in my neighborhood the last couple of weeks because the kid up the street who used to mow our lawn has turned into a bored dropout who wants, desperately, to belong.

Artie was a sweet kid with emotional problems and learning disabilities. Eventually the school district started tutoring him at home to keep the mayhem at a minimum. Both his parents are spread too thin and he had a lot of unsupervised time, so he took up with these kids.

And now the police are a common visitor. Because this is Pleasantville and these are kids wander in an aimless mass on the sidewalks. The neighbors give them the hairy eyeball and have "911" on the speed dial.

But Artie likes us, so he still waves when he and his friends walk by in a slouched semi-mob seething with attitude. And Bear enthusiastically waves back, and I do, too.

Then, this posse decided to spend some of yesterday camped out on our front doorstep.

My neighbor, Jonesie, didn't like the look of it, so she marched across the street in her teeny skirt and strappy cami (it's what she always wears. Hey, she's like 26 years old and built like supermodel - why not?).

I guess the kids tried to act like they knew us. Tried to tell her they were invited to be on our steps waiting for us to get home. But Jonesie didn't buy it - she challenged them, and wouldn't leave until they got themselves off our property.

When she told us from the little she overheard that they might have intended to ask us for money by pretending they were raising funds for something. But she wasn't sure, she just didn't like the entitled attitude they had hanging out on our front steps while we weren't home.

(Yes, she IS wonderful.)

I don't know why these kids were on our doorstop. Did they think because we were nice enough to wave that somehow that was an invitation to scam us for money? I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions, maybe they had some legitimate reason. Because the alternative was that by acknowledging Artie's wave, we somehow made ourselves targets. And dagnabbit, I refuse to live in a way that makes me pull down my arm and pretend that guys who scare me a little (and they do) aren't somehow human.

But reasons aside, they got right up in our space and stayed there. CD and I knew with a look as the neighbor talked that we had to take what happened seriously.

Because what these boys didn't know, but what have found out if any one of them had reached up to the doorknob, is that we don't lock our house except when we're going on vacation and at night.

Never have.

Now CD and I have decided we must change our ways. And it has made us both inexplicably and deeply sad.