Past history: 2003-2005 blog from another location

I suddenly remembered that I had another blog (at Diaryland) before I had my Blogger blog. Due to the technical difficulties that MySpace seems to be having, I may go back to the Blogger blog. It looks as though the Diaryland entries are slowly being deleted, so I'm moving them all here.

If you can wade through them, you'll see that not much has changed in the last four years.

This is everything I posted from 2003-2005 in Diaryland.
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Wednesday, Jan. 29, 2003 - 5:27 p.m.

Yeah, I'm still alive.

Baby needed a new 4.0-megapixel digital camera.

I've been very bad. My mom is gonna kill me.

I was sitting around one day being unproductive, cleaning my camera, when my brain piped up, "You know, you need to either get this thing serviced or replace it. Your pictures have little... things... in them that are inside the lens. You have moisture in the casing from taking it out in the rain. It isn't going to last much longer."

My brain replied, "Oh yeah? Well, you suck!"

But then I got to thinking about it. I did a little research and found what I want. Choking back tears, I decided to wait.

My brain contributed this: "If only you got paid every other Friday instead of on the 15th and the last day of every month, you'd get an extra pay check some month and you could afford it."

My brain replied, "Oh yeah? Well, you still suck!"

Then my payroll administrator called me and told me that I have been being paid two weeks behind everyone else and they want to catch me up. Essentially, "Here, have an extra paycheck! And have a super fantastic day!" I kid you not. He says that.

So I get my big ol' paycheck, which is essentially a full month. I call him Gigantor.

And then I promptly went out and depleted my checking account by blowing the vast majority of it on a digital camera.

It gets better...

I then got a business license and my own domain name. I am the proud new owner of my own failing small business. You know what that means? The camera and all associated items are a tax write-off! Woo hoo! Even if I only try to sell pictures for a year, it could pay off. People at work are wigging out over my pictures. Everyone likes them. People bring their spouses over to see them.

Photographically, I rock.

That is all for now.

Saturday, Feb. 08, 2003 - 12:10 a.m.

Hi!

So, how you doin? I'm pretty good. Exhausted, but hey, I finally finished!

HA! I'm done! Woo hoo!

At least for now.

You wanna know what the heck I'm talking about, don't you?

Heh heh heh...

Here's my other website. [Edit: This used to be a link to the other website, but it no longer exists.]

That's what I'm talking about.

I just can't stop giggling and snickering.

And while I'm in a confessional mood...

In December, I went to Vegas with Bill and James. We did a lot of wandering up and down the strip and eating at buffets. We all had a really great time, unlike the previous time I went. And I found that even if I am blind drunk, Bill is too decent a guy to take advantage of the fact that he knows I like him. Which also means to me that he's not interested in me, which doesn't surprise me because decent men are simply not interested in me. Ever. World without end, amen. I mean, come on, it's been two years since I even had a date. I am apparently too boring, stupid, fat and ugly to be a prospect. I'm just fun enough to hang out with occasionally when nobody else is available, but not to date. But that also means that he's that much more appealing to me, because I have a nasty tendency to like trustworthy guys--contrary to popular belief about women and "nice guys." Does that not suck or what?

And on a final note, I think that we need one more law. I think everyone will agree with this one. It isn't the least bit controversial. Not like my personal beliefs that:

A.) People should have to qualify to have children, much like you have to qualify to adopt a dog from the Humane Society.
B.) If you are a murderer, child molester or rapist, you should be executed without appeal if there is no question of guilt. I mean, really, think in terms of Wesley Allen Dodd and Jeffrey Dahmer. Both were guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt, they were both beyond help, both knew it, both admitted that if left to their own devices they would commit more crimes because they dug it. In spite of that, and in spite of the fact that Dodd himself begged for the death penalty it took forever for us to do it at the cost of $40,000.00 a year to the taxpayers of his (read: MY) state. I figure if they want to die, that's their right, even though I also tend to think that people that commit that sort of crime have forfeited their rights. I'll let 'em have that right.

So there are my big controversial beliefs, among others.

Anyway, new law, not just American, not just Earth-wide. I'm thinking this one needs to be UNIVERSAL.

It should be against the law of the universe for astronauts to die in fiery, explosive, painful, ripping-apart-without-saying-goodbye-to-their-families kinds of deaths. I think we need a law that says they are required by law to die after the age of 75, peacefully in their sleep, free of pain or disease. No exceptions. I figure that if we put it in writing, we'll be OK. The reason I bring this up is that this most recent Columbia mission was the very first one that I actually paid attention to. Every day, I turned on the UW2 channel that had the satellite feed, and I'd watch for a while to see how they were doing and what was happening. I actually got up early on a Saturday morning in winter without having plans to leave the house to watch the shuttle land, and it tore itself apart on the way in while I was sitting innocently in my chair, watching it live. Needless to say, I was upset. All I could think of was stupid, weak crap like, "I just hope they didn't feel it happen" and "It's a good thing that it broke apart at a high altitude rather than on the runway with the families watching." So I think we need a law. I'm sure the universe will agree. Why wouldn't it? It is for the benefit of everyone.

Monday, Feb. 10, 2003 - 6:16 p.m.

I'm a little baffled by the response that my pictures hung up in Starbucks have gotten. People are acting like I'm showing at the Met, not just at the local coffee shop where everyone knows me.

I have actually heard people gasp when they look at the pictures. Overwhelmingly, it is the picture of my cat that gets them. After that, its a pretty even toss-up of the Seattle Lighting picture, the Waikiki Beach picture, and the Lone Maple picture. You wanna see the pictures, you'll have to go to my other web site. [Edit: Again, it no longer exists.]

One of the people I heard commenting said, "This is great! I've been looking for pictures for my house!" That, of course, doesn't mean that they'll actually buy them. Oh well. They've got my card.

On top of that, I'm being "interviewed" by one of the marketing guys at work and they're going to put an article about me on the company website.

Hee hee!

No, it isn't the Met, but it sure is generating a lot of interest.

Tuesday, Feb. 11, 2003 - 7:25 p.m.

My company has a hiring freeze on.

My company hasn't given raises in almost two years.

My company is finally announcing raises tomorrow. Most are token amounts - four percent.
Except for me. And, like, a dozen other people.

I get eighteen percent. That is 18%. Not a typo. 18. Almost 20.

Cuz I rock.

And now I get to pay my property taxes without dipping into my savings!

I've also had several inquiries about my pictures. One of the marketing people came over to talk to me about them. She bowed to me. She may buy several.

And my company is going to buy one of them to put in the reception area.

See? I rock.

Wednesday, Feb. 12, 2003 - 6:49 p.m.

It is that time of the year. You know the one. Conversation hearts season. I have a bag in front of me and I will show it no mercy. The real problem with this is that not only will I eat every last one of them, I have to read each one first. Its a sickness, really.

And I sold three pictures today! Woo hoo!

And my boss won't be in the office again until Monday! Yay!

And Girl Scout cookie season is nearly upon us! Gah!

The diet starts later.

Wednesday, Feb. 26, 2003 - 4:58 p.m.

So, I had this fish. It was an Opaline Gourami.

On Friday night, I was sitting in my comfy chair with the cat, innocently watching some chick flick about love and romance and bunnies and rainbows and flowers--I think it was "Frailty"--when I heard a commotion from my fish tank. I looked over just in time to see my gourami fly out of the tank and land on the area rug next to the door.

I jumped up--terminally pissing off the cat in the process, who managed to swipe at me on the way to the floor--and grabbed her (the fish) and threw her back in the tank. She had a huge chunk missing out of her abdomen. Some other fish--I suspect the evil Red Tailed Black Shark, who killed his tank mate of the same species a few years ago--had taken a bite out of her. She curled up into a U-shape and sank to the bottom of the tank.

I was pissed off and a little disturbed about this little turn of events. Poor little innocent gourami! Never did nothin' to nobody! I went to get the net to remove her from the tank.
When I put the net in the tank, she livened up. Surprise, surprise! So I kept her in the net but floated her at the top of the tank to keep her from jumping out again or to keep from getting attacked again. I went to the garage to get my small tank. Luckily, I keep a spare of everything for the tank, so I just used all of my spare equipment to set up the small tank and I moved her and the other three gouramis into the tank. I have one other Opaline and two Pearls.
I got the small tank set up and went to bed.

When I got up on Saturday, there was a dead Khuli Loach on the floor in front of the big tank. It was missing a few chunks. The killer was still on the loose.

Nothing happened on Sunday.

When I got up on Monday, the injured Opaline wasn't in the tank. I looked everywhere (I thought), but couldn't find her. I figured that she had either gotten eaten by the other fish, or she had jumped out and gotten eaten by the cat.

I went to work.

I came home.

I went to bed.

At about 9 p.m., there was a terrific splashing from the big tank. I leaped out of bed--again, terminally pissing off the cat--and ran out to the living room to find out what was going on. I checked the big tank. Nothing. Everyone was there, everyone was fine, big mystery.

So I walked over to the little tank. The little tank is now residing on the coffee table behind my comfy chair. It was the only place I could put it. I checked all of my fish. All there, all fine. But for some reason, I looked under the table.

And there she was. The Opaline. I reached under and touched her. She was bone dry. I pulled her out and picked her up.

And she gasped.

And I gasped. And then I threw her back into the tank. She went back into the U-shape that she went into the first time, then after a moment livened up and started swimming with the other fish.

I figure she was under that table for 18 hours or more. Good thing she's an anabantoid, or she'd be dead.

It occurred to me that I now have a fish that is dead set (har har) on suicide. I decided to name her Lane Meyer. I then taped plastic wrap all the way around the openings on the back of the tank so that she couldn't get out again. And then I went back to bed.

I got up Tuesday morning. I went to work. I came home. And she was gone again.

I looked under the table. I looked around the table. I looked on the couch. I looked under the couch. I looked in the comfy chair. I looked in the windowsill. I looked in the cat's dishes. I looked in the cat's litter box. I looked in the cat's mouth. No Opaline.

I sat down to watch another movie--"Charlie's Angels"--and at about 9 p.m. I heard a noise that I couldn't identify coming from the little tank. I went to look at the pump.

And there she was. In the pump. I took the pump apart to let her out, and she was swimming a little sideways and one of her eyes looked off. I then lowered the water level in the tank about an inch and a half, re-taped all of the plastic around the back of the tank, finished the movie and went to bed.

When I got up this morning, she was dead. Her suicide attempts finally did her in. I think the pump episode was a little much for her.

So how are you?

Sunday, Mar. 09, 2003 - 4:52 p.m.

I found a way to save the company somewhere in the neighborhood of $10,000.00 each month. Yes, that's ten thousand dollars each month. But I'm told that though I have saved the company ever so much money, I can't have a performance based bonus because this isn't "quantifiable."

Uh... What?

How much more can I quantify ten thousand dollars each month? Do I have to call it one hundred and twenty thousand dollars each year? Do I have to figure out how far ten thousand one-dollar bills will stretch around the earth if laid end to end? Do I have to figure out how many atoms are in ten thousand one dollar bills? Do I have to find out how much ink it would take to print ten thousand one dollar bills? How many hands have touched them? How many cotton fibers are in them? How many of them may be counterfeit? How many angels can dance on the dot of the eye of George Washington? What percentage that would be of the CEO's monthly pay?

I have just one word for this.

Shit.

So anyway... Michelle, my new boss, is gently insisting that I go on a blind date with a cop friend of hers named Darrin. If she likes him so much, I'm not sure why she'd sick me on him, but hey, its a free dinner. I'll just follow my usual pattern--go out, have fun, never see or hear from the guy again. No sweat.

I have another photo show lined up in May. And another in November. Now, if I can just sell enough to quit my job...

By the way, I sold 6 of my pictures at $125 each. Not bad, eh? Yeah, but it barely pays for all of the mats and frames I had to buy. And I haven't gotten all of the money yet. All of these sales will be complete by April 15.

Speaking of money, that big raise of mine is all going to taxes. I had to change my withholding rate to guarantee that next year I get enough of a tax return to pay for my property taxes, so I am actually getting less per paycheck than I was before. See what I get for getting a raise?

Sunday, Mar. 09, 2003 - 5:02 p.m.

And on top of the getting-a-raise-but-getting-smaller-paychecks situation, it is raining.

"Oh, really? Raining? In Washington? How fascinating..." Yeah, I can hear that rolling around in your brain. But think about this.

If you rate the states from 1 to 50 in order of how much rain they get, we are a lowly, piteous number 41.

On the other hand, we are overcast 260 to 280 days each year. Except last year. But anyway.
What we generally have is grey, wet air. Like if you clean out the lint catcher in your dryer and spritz it with your plant mister. Its just like that. You can only tell it is raining by sticking your hand out, letting it hang expectantly in the air for a minute, then rubbing your fingers together to see if they are wet. Dave Barry called Washington "the incessant, nagging drizzle state," and he hit that banana slug right on the head. Or perhaps it was a geoduck. But I digress.

Today, it was raining. Yesterday, it was raining. This is rain that you can hear hitting your roof. It is rain that falls hard enough that you can see the raindrops bounce when they hit the pavement. It is rain that makes you turn on your windshield wipers higher than the interval setting. It is rain that makes you wish you owned an umbrella, but you never bothered to buy one because it just doesn't rain hard enough to justify it. That's unusually hard rain for Western Washington. It is rain that people will be talking about around the water cooler tomorrow.

(As an aside, the sky must be reading this over my shoulder because the sun is now shining prettily on my fence and lovely pink flowering crab trees, making a liar out of me.)

There is standing water in my yard. It is just weird.

But back to the statistics. We have the highest rates of suicide and depression in the nation. We have the highest number of serial killers per capita. Most of the population is on Prozac. Moss grows all the way around the trees, not just on the north side. Coincidence? I think not.

And yet people still don't know how to drive when the roads are wet.

Speaking of moss, I have moss growing on my cement slab in my back yard. The slab used to have a hot tub on it. I use it as a patio and place to put my barbecue in the summer. It is in full exposure to the sky on the south side of the house. Anywhere else in America, we would call that full sun exposure, but here it is just full sky exposure. Moss is not supposed to grow in full exposure on the South side of anything! Ack. It has been a very cloudy winter. But at least I haven't had to deal with snow this year.

Yet.

It could still happen.

Tuesday, Mar. 11, 2003 - 6:10 p.m.

I was driving to work at 2:30 this morning when I heard on the radio that Seattle needs mentors for its children.

Uh... OK. But here's the thing.

I think mentoring is a good idea if you're inclined in that general direction--I'm so not--but why do we need them? Aren't the parents supposed to be mentors? I thought that was kinda the definition of parenting?

Argh.

So anyway.

The controller of my company is very cool. Bob is good people. He got a bonus because the accounting department came through with flying colors on the latest audit and SEC reporting. He spent it on the rest of the department on boxes of Godiva chocolates for everyone.

Yeah, except that I am on a rather restrictive diet. See, I had to buy new pants because I couldn't pack my fat ass into my size 8 jeans anymore. Then I almost had to go to 12s because the 10s started to be too tight. Thank you, Christmas season and its assorted bins of junk food provided to us all at work by various vendors and customers. I decided that instead of just succumbing to buying new jeans, I'd just lose weight. I'm down to 160--not bad for someone 5'10"--but I still desperately need exercise. Can't get much exercise while working 12 hours at a time and suffering the squalls of rain that we keep getting, so I'm praying for an early spring so I can start hiking again.

My Starbucks show is over. I sold enough to reimburse myself the cost of prints, frames and mats, so I essentially broke even. And I'm still selling unframed prints, so I could even be operating in the black by the end of the year. Never can tell. And I got some great new pictures that people seriously dig. I will have even more after hiking season. When, oh when will it get here? Aaaauuuugh!

Monday, Mar. 24, 2003 - 7:05 p.m.

My brilliant (NOT!) boss tried to tell me yesterday that we installed Saddam Hussein. Say what? No, we did not. After WWI, Britain installed a king who was ousted by a general who was ousted by a president who stepped down to let Hussein officially run the country, since he was more or less doing it anyway and would probably have had the president publicly shot in the head if he hadn't stepped down. And when he did step down, Hussein got all of the government folk into one room and started picking which ones were taken out to be shot. No, we didn't install him. We did send him weapons to fight Iran after (AFTER!) he mustard gassed some of his own people (Northern Kurds) because he thought they were turning on him, but we didn't install him.

I'm so proud. Only twenty or so miles from my home, one of the largest mountain lions in recorded history was shot by a hunter. It makes my lil' heart go pitty pat. It would have gone pitty pat a lot more if I had gotten to see it alive--preferably not leaping at me, I confess--but of course, it is too much to ask for people not to kill stuff.

And speaking of killing stuff.

This thing with Iraq…

Let me just say that I support the publicly touted goals of freeing the Iraqi people and dismantling weapons of mass destruction. I can pretend that there are no ulterior motives if we can achieve better living conditions for millions of people. But I have a better idea than war.
Howzabout we all just grow up and stop killing each other and trying to tell everyone else how to live?

I agree that Hussein is a freak and he needs killin', as do so very many of his own people agree. I'm not objecting to that. Nor am I objecting to the violent deaths of his sons.

Wouldn't it be cool if we could get someone into power there that would actually act as a public servant and not use his position to treat people like crap in order to get his jollies? But wouldn't it be better if it wasn't even necessary?

Why do so many people have to be such assholes? I already know the answer to that. They dig it. Evolutionarily speaking, we haven't fallen far from the tree. We are still just mean little monkeys. Some of the little monkeys are a lot meaner than the others, and they have the means to beat up the smaller monkeys, and they do it because they can, and they like it.

I just hope that things work out on all sides.

Monday, Apr. 07, 2003 - 8:02 p.m.

I got up this morning and got ready for work as usual. I was ready about 15 minutes faster than usual, and I thought I'd get a jump on traffic.

At the first intersection, I thought, "Wow, awful lot of traffic for 4:45 a.m. on a Monday."

A few moments later, I thought, "Wow, its really light for 4:45 a.m."

Then I heard on the radio that it is daylight savings time.

And then I realized I was an hour late for work.

Happy Monday.

And stranger still, I got an e-mail containing, among much else, this text: "Your father most likely will be going in for surgery this summer, to get fixed. There's a chance that he will have "difficulties" as the doctors say. Some artery is very close and they advise him to get his affairs in order. So I guess this is the reason why I write." My father's current wife wrote it. Never met the woman. She found my e-mail through my shockingly successful small business. (I'm in the black! Woo hoo! Not enough to quit the day job, but still...) Wonders never cease. Haven't spoken to the man in 15 years, but his wife (5 years my junior, thanks muchly) feels compelled to contact me. Oddly, I haven't written back. I'm a little baffled. And somewhat speechless.

Because you see, my father had a vasectomy right after I was born. I wonder who fathered "his" 4 children with his current wife?

Wednesday, Jul. 16, 2003 - 10:58 p.m.

Not much going on, so here's the short list.

In August, I have my next photo show. It will be at the Starbucks in the building in which I work. They couldn't get a real artist on such short notice, so they asked me if I could do a photo show on short notice. I have nothing better to do. I said yes.

In October, my owners... ahem, I mean, my bosses are sending me to Las Vegas for a convention. An accounting convention. Must I say it for all of us? Yah. Hoo.

In November, I have another photo show. I planned that one.

Yeah, that pretty much covers it all.

See why I never do entries anymore?

Friday, Jul. 18, 2003 - 10:20 p.m.

So, you wanna know why I haven't updated in, like, 7 months? OK. Here we go. Pull up a chair.

About a week and a half ago I heard that the Washington Park Arboretum was having a photo contest. We had a nice weekend, so I went down to Mt. Rainier to take sunrise pictures, then went to the arboretum to take early morning pictures. I was setting up my tripod when I heard a noise behind me. I was startled. I turned and saw a jogger. I made eye contact. I said, "Oh, good morning!" Smiled. No response. I went back to extending the legs of my tripod. The jogger replied with a good morning of his own, after several paces. I didn't mind; I know I can't talk if I'm running. I figured the delay was due to fatigue or exertion. I looked up again, smiled again to acknowledge him, went back to the tripod. Then, the punchline. As he passed me, he looked over his shoulder and fired this parting shot: "I'm sad for you." My reply: "What?" I didn't talk to anyone else for the rest of the day unless spoken to first, and because of that experience I will probably never speak to another stranger again. I believe that response has probably always been my worst nightmare, and it finally happened, as I knew it would. And, of course, I blame myself. I was just trying to be friendly, but apparently, I am not allowed.

I seem to have Seasonal Affective Disorder. I think I may also be generally clinically depressed all year, but since I hate doctors and won't breach this subject with one because I assume that they will just tell me to take some Tylenol and ice the affected area, I haven't been diagnosed. I know that in the rainy season, I get even more depressed than normal, and I have headaches that only two hours of direct sunlight and a six-pack will cure, and I just have no energy beyond getting up, going to work, coming home, and going to sleep. I sleep 10 or 12 hours every chance I get--which is weekends--then I get up and take a nap because I'm still tired. Then I go to bed and sleep another 10 or 12 hours.

The person that I thought was my best friend is no longer speaking to me. Julie. You may have heard of her. She came over for three days/two nights for my birthday last year. We goofed around, went hiking, had a great time. The last night she was here, she asked me how I would handle it if I had a person in my life that I no longer wanted to be friends with. I said I would tell them, because if they felt like they were a part of her life, they deserved some kind of an explanation and closure. She left the next day and never spoke to me again, in person or in writing. She sent me a couple of books that she borrowed without even a note to say "hi." She didn't even respect me enough to give me a reason, even a half-assed one. Seventeen years. Gone. My father disposed of me, my ex-husband disposed of me, the last guy I thought I was seriously dating disposed of me, people I know that I think are my friends dispose of me, jobs dispose of me without a backward glance or a regret. Sometimes I feel like nothing good has ever happened to me.

The last thing I did socially with anyone other than my parents was the trip to Las Vegas in December of 2002. James and Bill are still my friends, unlike my first Vegas trip with Michelle and Megan in 2001, which ended up with Michelle calling me names because I wouldn't get puking-drunk with the group on Fremont Street. I dared to stand up for myself and refuse to start doing shots. Someone slap me. How dare I?

So what it boils down to is that I have no actual friends. I am in touch with James and Ken and Max by e-mail and phone, I see people like Leah and Michelle at work that I get along fine with and chat with all the time, I see Bill 2 or 3 days a week and chat with him on my way into the office, everyone at Starbucks talks to me every morning (even some of the customers), but I have nobody in my life other than my cat. I have nobody that I can call up and say, "Hey, wanna go to a movie?" because I feel like I would be imposing on them and I would just be setting myself up for rejection.

So today I finished a book I bought yesterday called "Why Girls are Weird", by Pamela Ribon. If you ever read Weetabix's page or Pamie's page, then you have read her writing. She, the author of the book, is Pamie. I had no idea who I was reading until page 311 of the 312 page book. I found a link to her page on Weetabix's page and started reading back when I was still doing something on the Internet besides deleting SPAM about Viagra and porn. I finished her book, literally laughing and crying at the same time in by back yard, and wondering why I have no Becca or Dale or god-forbid a Kurt/LDobler in my life. I just have an Ian, and that sucks out loud. (Admit it, women: we all want a Lloyd Dobler. I may have met one, but they never met me.) Great book, very funny, very touching, but damn, it has screwed me up even more than I already was. I was depressed before, but now I feel totally worthless--as if I didn't before. I associate entirely too much with bits of it. So if you get a chance, read it. It might give you a little insight.

Wednesday, Sept. 03, 2003 - 8:19 p.m.

I am such a doormat.

I locked my diary for a while because I figured nobody was going to miss is it, and because I was afraid my mom would freak and think I was on the verge of suicide or something. I'm now unlocking it because exactly one person asked what happened to it.

See how easy I am?

On the news front, my second photo show is ending tomorrow. I sold a few pictures, but not enough to break even. Luckily, I can reuse the mats and frames for the show in November.
I also have a new domain for my "business" website. My photos are now on view at Photos by Jen.[Edit: Site is dead.] I even have a business license. I'm totally legit. I pay taxes on my sales and everything. I have business cards to prove it. Well, I suppose they prove nothing, but the next batch I order will prove something - they'll have my UBI number on them. So there. I'm making enough money off of photo sales to keep me in my day job.

Speaking of which, there are several people in my department who are planning to leave because of the new accounting manager. Remember Irina? She's one of the people who has such a problem with Michelle that she's willing to quit her job to get out of the situation. That may be changing now that everyone in the department has gone to the HR folks with issues with her, but frankly I can't see much changing. I'm just trying to keep my head down, do my job, keep my mouth shut and pay my mortgage. While on the side, casually updating my resume and speaking monthly with my recruiter, just to see how the market is doing.

I am going to Las Vegas in a month. I have to say it...

VEGAS, BABY!

And this time, I'm not only going alone, I'm going ON THE COMPANY TAB! I have a conference to go to for the software that we use for expense reports. So you see why I'm not in a hurry to leave my job just yet? They're paying for me to go to Vegas! I'm thinking photo ops galore. I took my camera last time, but the most I did was take a picture of the strip from my hotel room. Ironically, the only thing you can see in the picture is Ceasar's Palace. This time, I have a day and a half of free time, I'm staying at Ceasar's Palace, and I have the option of renting a car and going to Red Rocks for a few hours. I'm going to see how the weather is before I plan that.

I took a week off in August for my birthday. I've been doing that for a couple of years now. I sat around the house and read, cleaned, harassed the cat, ate more cheese puffs (Bakes are my brand) than should be allowed by law, and didn't go hiking as I had planned. I actually did go hiking, but about 1/2 mile from the end of the trail to Rachel Lake, my stomach decided that it was damn well going no further, and I ended up turning back. I didn't get enough sleep the night before, I didn't eat enough, I had too much coffee, and that was too much. I used to have a cast iron stomach. Now I'm lucky if it qualifies as fish net. I got a couple of interesting pictures of trees and waterfalls and Hibox Mountain, but nothing spectacular. The really fantastic pictures are in the weekends ahead.

I have set a goal for myself. Are you ready for this? Next year, I'm going to hike up into the Enchantments. I can hear the gasps from the crowd already. Yes, I'm going to work out regularly and get my hiking gear together in preparation for the hike next summer. The ultimate goal is not just to see the Enchantments, but to get pictures of Prusik Peak at sunset. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Well, check back in a year. That's all I'm saying.

I think that's about all there is, so I'm outta here. Maybe I'll update again some day.

Sunday, Sept. 14, 2003 - 2:25 p.m.

1.) The big part of the tunnel at Pioneer Square Station looks like that big bee hangar in the X-Files movie.
2.) You will rarely smell anything good on the bus. In the couple hundred times I have ridden on the bus, I have sat next to exactly two people that smelled good. Both were men. One was my age, one was middle-aged. The younger smelled like a very nice, light cologne. The older man smelled like he had just stepped out of a waterfall in the South Pacific. Everyone else that I have been able to smell on the bus smelled bad. Various classifiable smells I've been forced to tolerate: too much cologne, too much perfume, no shower, too many cigarettes, bad breath, dog poo on shoe, vomit, rotting fish.
People, please, if you're going to ride a bus, please be as unobtrusive as possible.
3.) Overheard in the tunnel: "So, is this, like, underground or something?"

Tuesday, Sept. 23, 2003 - 4:44 p.m.

I have a new work slogan. Microsoft's little slogan at some point (if you can truly use "little" to describe anything involving Microsoft) was "Where do you want to go today?" My new slogan is "What can I do today that, though I am following my instructions to the letter, will piss people off and make them run crying to their supervisor?"

Here's a little background. We have a new accounting manager. We'll just call her the Mangler. (Irina changed positions because I was too difficult for her. Hee!) The Mangler is also a micromanager, but she is more covert about it than Irina was. We have to cc her on all of our e-mail. Can you believe that? So I'm not doing it. I cc her on it when I feel that she needs information, but not for anything else. In addition to that, we have a so called Purchasing Specialist. Her actual specialty is not purchasing. It is surfing the Net and saying things like "I'm not gonna do that!" and "Does the word "approval" mean anything to you?" and wandering around the office, with a piece of paper in her hand, cornering anyone who crosses her path and chatting at them about crap they don't care to hear about. (I was subjected to half an hour of her water heater thermostat story, which consisted mostly of the phrases "but anyway" and "et cetera, et cetera".) If they try to escape by saying that they have work to do, she says, "But I'm not finished yet!" and keeps talking. If you still try to escape, she goes crying to the Mangler, who the reprimands them for hurting Roadkill's feelings. (Roadkill is the so-called purchasing specialist.)

Everyone in earshot of her cube (23 people) have complained to HR about her, but her boss (the Mangler) apparently is convinced that Roadkill walks on water. I think the Mangler must be very gullible. Other than one person (the Mangler), nobody likes her, nobody thinks she is pulling her weight, nobody things she actually does a reasonable job. Even Golden Boy and Mr. Niceguy, the most grown-up, rational, sensible, mellow people in the building, hate her. They don't just dislike her, they use the word "hate" when they talk about her. (I feel quite vindicated by that. If they hate her, I know I'm not being unreasonable.)

So anyway, I was making corrections to large numbers of Roadkill's transactions and data entries, and not telling her. If you tell her, she argues. If you can show her proof of her mistake, she blames everyone but herself. (Nobody told her that, you don't have the authority to tell her to do that, she was distracted, she had 6 whole purchase orders to enter that week and was just so shagged out, she doesn't have time to do that, she'll just talk to her manager about that.) I don't want to deal with her, so I just fix things and move on. Eventually, I was told that when I change something, I have to tell her. And of course, that means I have to tell the Mangler as well because of the whole cc'ing the Mangler to hell and back on everything in the department. So every time I find a mistake, I have to send e-mail to both of them. What this adds up to is that I am sending up to 10 e-mails a day, detailing Roadkill's inability to transcribe simple English from paper to screen.

I have adopted this as my mission in life.

As goals go, it is pretty lame, since I can't pick up a piece of paper from Roadkill without finding an issue, but that makes it a reachable goal. Apparently, someone higher up got their head out of their butt long enough to put the Mangler on notice if Roadkill doesn't straighten up. I just want Roadkill out and someone who can do the job to get in. Why is good help so hard to find in a market where people are nearly falling all over themselves to get jobs? There must be someone more qualified out there!

Hey, want a purchasing job? Please?

Tuesday, Sept. 23, 2003 - 4:48 p.m.

So guess what I did this weekend? I went hiking! Guess where I went! C'mon, guess! What's my favorite hike ever?

Gothic Basin!

Gothic Basin can be described two ways.

Number 1: Heh heh… Heh heh heh heh… Hee hee! Wheeee! Oooh! Aaah! Wow! Hey, cool!
Number 2: What the hell happened to my feet?!

I set out intending to go to Three Fingers, but I couldn't find the damn turnoff. I decided to go to Gothic Basin again because last time I went, the weather sucked and there was too much snow to get to Foggy Lake, and I wanted to get digital pictures to replace the crappy scanned film images of yore. So off I went, parked at Barlow Pass, laced up the boots, threw on the pack and set off down the Monte Cristo Road.

Weather was perfect. Sun was rising. Not too cool, not too hot. Not many people. Got to Foggy Lake in 4.5 hours (my best time yet – I'm a serious wimp, and I stop to take a lot of pictures). Sat around talking to a guy named Jeff for 2 hours. Started back. Oops. First of all, I was dehydrated – got nauseated and headachy, and I didn't have the sense to fill up on water at the lake. Second, I had no Chapstick. Third, the boots I was wearing were good for Three Fingers, not for Gothic Basin. I have seven blisters, one toenail that's about to fall off, the balls of my feet won't take more than a few minutes of pressure, my heels ache, and just about every muscle in my body is having issues with me being conscious and mobile.

But dude, you should see the pictures! Woo hoo!

Wednesday, Sept. 24, 2003 - 10:19 p.m.

This week has been something of a personal nightmare.

Monday, I missed work because I couldn't wear shoes because I destroyed my feet hiking on Sunday.

Tuesday, on the way to work, I saw a deer. Normally, this is a good thing. This day, it was not. The deer was lying in the middle of northbound highway 169. It had been hit by a car. It was trying to get up but couldn't, because it could move only its head and one front leg. This morning, the deer was on the side of the road. It has no head.

This morning, I got up as usual, fed the cat, checked out the fish, fed them and went to work. Thirteen hours later I arrived at home. The first thing I noticed was that my bala sharks did not meet me at the corner of their tank as they always have. They were odd little fish. Actually, they were all in the range of 6 inches long, not small at all. But anyway, they would follow me. If they could see where I was at any given time, they would be gathered in the corner of the tank nearest me. If I put my hand up to them and waggled my fingers, they would follow them. So when they didn't greet me as I came in today, I knew there was a problem. I walked over to the tank, dropping my mail on the floor on the way over to them. They were listless, their skin covered with a fungus or bacterial infection, their slime coats peeling off. I took pictures of them with my digital camera and ran to the pet store. The pet store guy told me what he thought it was and gave me the medication. I came back home and put the medication in the tank. And the first bala shark died. Immediately. He swam near where I had dropped the pellet and literally went belly up. I kept trying to keep him moving, but after about half an hour, he died. I took him back to the pet store to show them, and to ask them to look at him and tell me if perhaps the original diagnosis was wrong. They couldn't offer me anything else. Nobody had any idea what could have done this to a healthy tank in 13 hours. I came back, and the other two were dead.

So I'm really not happy right now.

Saturday, Oct. 11, 2003 - 5:45 p.m.

Woo hoo! I had only one question to answer on this month's flux analysis! Yay, me! (See, this is what I get for being in accounting. I get excited that I have only one flux question.) Shock and surprise, I got another raise. I was the ony one in my department to get a raise this year, and I got the maximum. Apparently, Bob, the controller, likes me best. Word on the street is that they are afraid that I am looking for a new job. See what dressing better can do for you?

So, how you doing? I have been doing nothing. The last weekend of September I hiked up to Goat Flats. I even got the obligatory flat tire on the 18-mile dirt/rock road to the trailhead. I drove on the rim so long without noticing it that I had to replace the tire, which cost me nothing because Les Schwab rocks and so do their warranties. That's the last thing I did that wasn't work related. I was going to go hiking this weekend, but the lovely weather seems to have crapped out, more or less literally. It was totally overcast all weekend, but it still didn't rain enough to keep me from needing to water my trees and shrubs, but it was cold enough to turn on the furnace - which thankfully is not making any interesting noises.

Question of the day: If you are driving in the right-hand lane and you have a right-hand turn signal which is green, and the right-hand turn lane does not merge with oncoming traffic from the left (of which there should be none regarless because you have a green right-turn signal), why the heck would you stop to turn right on a green right-hand turn signal into your own lane? I see this every day at two different intersections. Car after car after car stops at this green turn signal before going through. I don't get it. Am I misunderstanding the whole right-hand green arrow into non-merging lane situation? Or is everyone else stupid?

My chiropractor appointments are down to once a week. I have some actual curve in my neck and I can turn my head nearly as far as it is supposed to go. And it doesn't make those noises any more! Woo hoo! I'm also sleeping better, which is tré cool. As a bonus, the button on my pants actually lines up with my navel, which hasn't been the case for years, and I can feel my left big toe and my right big toe doesn't hurt when I bend it while walking. Amazing, non?

Saturday, Oct. 18, 2003 - 10:14 a.m.

My drive to work was as usual. Dark, rainy, dodging idiots who cut me off and then slow down or take a left. I got to work, parked, got out of my car, and what did I see next to my rear tire? A used Tampon. Welcome to the big city.

Work is as usual. My supervisor comes in 45 minutes late every day and takes hour-and-a-half lunches and leaves at three, complaining about how hard her job is and how many hours she is in the office. Her first hour in the office every day is spent complaining about how she spends her time outside of work and sighing heavily over her e-mail and muttering. She processes a whole dozen or so invoices a day. I, on the other hand, am in the office 11 or 12 hours a day with no lunch break and I process 70 invoices and up to 250 miscellaneous transactions (wire fees, foreign exchange losses, wire payments, journal entries) every day, yet I don't feel particularly challenged. It is no wonder that her supervisor told me last week that she is really just a figurehead and they are closing the pay gap between the two of us. How's this for office politics: my own supervisor doesn't know I got a raise, and I was asked not to tell her.

Next week: Vegas, baby! I'm going to a users' conference for the software that we use to process expense reports. Could be interesting--a couple hundred accounting clerk-types descending on Sin City to geek it up. There will be free food, and the weather is going to be perfect. And I get to stay at Caesar's Palace! And this is my first trip to Vegas that isn't going to cost me anything! Yay! The camera is, of course, going with me. I will have a bit of free time, and I intend to use it.
I don't know if you watch the weather reports, but we Western Washingtonians have regained our status as the dreariest place to live for the next 6 months. Summer is decidedly over. There are monsoon-like conditions predicted through Sunday. I think we are going to be paying heavily for the fabulous weather we had since last October. On the other hand, I don't have to wash my car now and there is already snow in the mountains! Snowboarding and snowshoeing are imminent. Mt. Rainier looks so much better - when you can see him. He was looking all bony and edgy and dark without the snow that we get so used to seeing. Now he's all cloaked in sparkly white.

And yes, Mt. Rainier is a "he," according to the legends. Mt. St. Helens is a "she" and Mt. Adams is a "he" also. Rainier and Adams fought over St. Helens and she blew up and threw them both away from her because she couldn't stand to see them fighting. Seriously, that is a legend. I am not making this up. No, really! Go look it up if you don't believe me. And read about Thunderbird while you're at it.

Monday, Oct. 27, 2003 - 5:47 p.m.

Notes on the trip to Vegas:

All of this crap was in my head at some point on Wednesday, October 22.

Sitting at Alaska Airlines gate D12 at Sea-Tac, I noticed that people tend to sit as close to the television as they can get, facing it, regardless of whether they are watching the television. Most of them do not.

Sunrise from the airplane was great. The horizon behind Mt. Rainier was a vivid red, and later there were streaks of gold.

Skies over Oregon were clear, as were those over Nevada. Washington skies were decidedly overcast in the Puget Sound region, but it was clear around Rainier.

The guys behind me on the plane were from Alaska. They had never been to Vegas. They were very loud and annoying. They were snorting, snoring, and sniffling. I wanted to turn around and offer them all breath mints and tissues, but I figured that would just result in even more kicking of the back of my seat, if that is at all possible.

Somewhere over Oregon, there were some very odd clouds. They may have been fires, I couldn't tell, but there were 8 of them that seemed to be forming in a rough line and blowing straight North.

As the sun was rising over Nevada, it made the low clouds glow pink, like a river of cotton candy over the hills. It lasted only a few minutes.

The word "triptych" finally came to me. I was having a conversation with someone about something and I needed that word, and all I could come up with was "triptophan" and "tracheotomy." Now I just need to remember who I was talking to about it and why.

Can flying give you gas?

The landscape loses its charm rapidly as the sun rises.

My neck was killing me from bending to look out the window. It makes interesting crunchy noises now. I hope this gets better as the trip progresses...

Some of the clouds over Nevada looked like Challah bread.

I parked in spot #1, level 4G. That is very important to remember. I can just see getting back to Seattle and not being able to find my car. Ack.

Next time I take a trip, I need to remember to bring a book to read on the plane. I actually brought one this time, but it was in the outer pocket of my suitcase and I forgot to take it out before I surrendered it to the security guerillas at the airport.

Do I have to record everything that goes through my head?

Was I as annoying as those Alaska guys the first time I went to Vegas? Or the second time?

I think there is a possibility that I was one of the 5 youngest, healthiest people on the flight down here. The rest of them? Half were guys from Alaska, here for the beer. The other half were obese bleached-blondes with doughy complexions and nicotine-stained fingers, toenails varnished Claret and packed into 20-year-old Candies who couldn't walk from security to the terminal.

So I get to Vegas, weather is perfect. Check in, come to my room. The bathroom is the size of my smallest bedroom at home. No, actually it is slightly larger. The bathtub is as big as my bathroom at home. Me likee very much.

I unpacked and headed out pretty much immediately. Walked up to Mandalay Bay, down to Treasure Island and back. My feet are a little touchy, but hey, whatever.

While I was walking, a guy came up to me and said, "You very beeyooteefull laydee. Where you from? Are you single?" And my brain screamed, "OH MY GOD, HE'S GOING TO TRY TO SELL ME A TIME SHARE!" And I was right. I also had a guy say "Ay yi yi" at me. So what is it? Is it because men in Seattle simply are attracted to a very different type of woman? Or are they just more repressed? Or is it because I was the only woman walking alone down the Las Vegas strip?

I popped into the MGM to see the lions, and they had a woman answering questions for the crowd. One guy asked if the lions minded the trainers being in the display with them. The answer kinda surprised me. Apparently, when the trainers leave, the lions get a little upset and look for them and have temper tantrums. A little while later, one of the trainers was in with them, and he was trying to get one of the lionesses to come up to him. She did, and they headbutted each other. It was an "Awwww!" moment. Then he tried to grab at her paw and she swiped at his head. My cat does that, too. I can relate. The only difference is that my cat draws blood when she does that.

I went into the Mirage for the first time. It was actually kind of sad. There's a big statue of Siegfried and Roy with a tiger in front of the hotel that has been turned into a shrine to Roy, with huge notepads that people can sign, get well cards, bouquets, stuffed animals, balloons, you name it. I went in to have a look around, and right inside the front doors is a white tiger display. Big purrrty kitty. I want one. Sorta. Well, not really. I can barely handle the one I have.

So after walking on the strip in 95 degree heat with no sunglasses and not so much as a glass of water for 5 hours, I finally came back to my room. The intention was to get the ice bucket, fill it, and drink all the water I could handle and go to bed. I walked in, put my stuff on the shelf overlooking Paris, and turned to the ice bucket on my right. My brain said, "I thought the ice bucket was in the vestibule." Then it said, "Hey, there's a bottle of wine in it. I didn't notice that earlier." After a moment's contemplation, it whispered, "I would have noticed a bottle of wine. That wasn't there earlier."

So I nonchalantly walked over to it (three whole steps) to avoid frightening it, not looking directly at it, whistling tunelessly, thinking it was one of those things that they leave in the room for you and let you think it is free, but the fine print says that if you use it, they charge you a fortune for it. There was a card with my name on it. I opened it up. It was a gift from Paul, my foreign currency transfer account manager in San Francisco! We talked right before I left work yesterday, and I had wondered why he was asking me if I had the room in my name and where I was staying. So that was a very nice surprise. Wow, a guy bought me a gift. First time for everything.

And the wine is fabulous.

And now the sirens have started.

And now it is bedtime.

October 23, 5:41 a.m.

I was up for 20 or so hours yesterday, but for some reason I couldn't sleep last night. I think I need my cat to sleep well.

I went to bed just after 9 so that I could get up at 5:30 to get ready for the first meeting I have at 7:30. I don't really need that much time, but since I tend to dawdle when I'm not at home, drinking coffee, hanging around in my jacuzzi tub, listening to the echo and admiring the crown molding in the bathroom, that sort of thing, I decided to give myself some playing time. I woke up at 1:30 this morning, and I may have been shouting something, but I may have dreamed it. Not sure. There was a lot of noise at my door. I shouted "Who is it?" Someone answered, but I shouted back, "I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're saying." And only then was I totally awake. But I may have dreamed the whole thing. After that, I woke up every hour or 45 minutes. I finally gave up and got up half an hour early.

When I walked out to get more ice to keep the remains of my bottle of wine cold, I found a goody bag from Concur. Maybe that's what I heard.

When I got downstairs, I was talking to a Concur rep about the new release, and I saw a familiar face. It was someone I used to work with back at Purely Cotton. She is now with Concur, and she organized this convention. She's quite moved up in the world since I last saw her!

So I'm now finished with today's sessions, and I have about 2 hours to kill before dinner. I wasn't going to go, but a) it is free food and entertainment and b) lunch was really good but a bit sparse. I was hungry half an hour later. I almost went for a cheeseburger, but I took a nap instead. Good thing, too. That last session was geared more for IT people, not for accounting people. I took notes that would probably be useless for our IT group, so I am thankful that they provided a white paper at the end. That'll be going straight to the people that will understand it with minimal head scratching.

I seem to have brought the lousy weather with me. It is totally overcast. Yay.

I miss my cat. And I'm starving. Maybe I should go get a snack.

Later that day, about 4:30 p.m.

The balance of the day after the possibility that I shouted at a stranger in the hallway outside my room was pretty uneventful. The sessions were interesting and informative. That about covers the day.

After the sessions, there was a dinner. The entertainment was Frank, Marilyn and Elvis. The main course was, unfortunately, salmon. I ended up with vegetarian sushi, which consisted of 5 asparagus spears, two carrots, and a rice patty topped with mushrooms. I concentrated on the salad, the dessert, and all but the rice and mushrooms on the dinner plate.

When it was over, I retired to my jacuzzi tub, then tried to sleep. Once again, I woke up at 4:30 a.m. This time, it was because my emergency sprinkler had started to leak, and I was woken up by Chinese water torture. I tried to go back to sleep, but even with a towel on the floor to catch the water, I couldn't go back to sleep. I gave up trying after 3 hours. I got up, showered, packed and checked out.

After the day's sessions, I bailed out of Caesar's. I had three hours to kill before heading to the airport. I called Paul to thank him for the bottle of wine that he had sent to me, then took off for the Venetian.

I had walked past the Venetian at least 6 times in the last three years, once in each direction on each trip, but I had never gone in. Today, I did. It looks pretty much exactly like all of the other casinos once you get inside. Wow, shock and surprise. So I left.

I sat in a Denny's next to the Venetian, across from the Mirage, eating a grilled cheese sandwich and French fries while watching the guys trying to had out porn trading cards to the passers-by. I could have gone to Chinoise. I could have gone to Spago. I could have gone to Nero's. I chose Denny's. Think about that one for a while. And not just from a psychological perspective, but from a financial perspective. I could have claimed a $50 meal on my expense report and gotten reimbursed, but I chose to spend $6.83 instead. I am either weird or very responsible with my company's money.

I eventually went back to Caesar's and got my luggage. I had a few minutes to kill, so I popped a dollar into a nickel slot machine and won $12.75. Then I had to go. I got on the shuttle bus, got to the airport, checked in, found my gate, and plopped down with an Americano and "High Fidelity" to wait 2 hours for my plane. About 10 minutes before the first boarding call, I dropped a buck into a nickel slot machine and won $5.30.

As I walked to the gate to board, I found that I didn't have my driver's license. These days, for some bizarre, inexplicable reason, they won't let you on a plane without ID even though 347 other people saw it before the woman at the gate, so I had to call the last place I saw it - the security checkpoint - and it was there. I had to run - RUN - back to get it, and run back to the gate. I was the last one on the plane, and I had the last seat, 31F. I plopped down to wait for my heart to stop perpetually exploding. Shockingly, I didn't even break a sweat running a mile in 10 minutes. I think I was too dehydrated to sweat. And though I did it, and kinda liked the fact that I did it, I will not be taking up jogging.

I got home at 12:53 a.m. I fell into bed. I slept immediately, and didn't move until I woke up this morning. I definitely require my cat to get a good night's sleep.

Friday, Dec. 05, 2003 - 3:38 p.m.

Notes on the big storm.

1. Those 100-foot trees around your house are pretty, but they're also a threat to everything important to you. Don't be so in love with them that you can't thin them out for the sake of your house, your car, your fence, and your beautiful little Japanese maple tree.

1a. That neighbor to the South wasn't reliving his glory days as a lumberjack when he removed three of his Eastern border trees. He was protecting his investment.

1b. Those trees in your yard don't look nearly as tall as they really are, and you will know how big they really are only when they are lying across the street and through your neighbor's fence.

2. Electric can openers are the work of the devil.

3. Gas ovens and water heaters suck, right up until you have a power outage. You become very popular when you're the only one in the neighborhood who can provide a hot shower or a cup of coffee.

3a. French presses are a must for coffee drinkers.

3b. Extended power outages are a good excuse to eat all of your ice cream sandwiches, garlic cheese spread on crackers, and bacon. But not necessarily at the same time.

4. If that wood fence in your back yard doesn't have spaces between the boards, it isn't a fence - it is a sail.

4a. Lifting a 6-foot section of your cedar fence out of the street and into your back yard in 75-mph wind and rain in the dark is difficult.

4b. Lifting 3 more 6-foot sections of your cedar fence out of the street and into your back yard in 75-mph wind and rain is only slightly less difficult when it is not dark.

5. Natural disasters provide a good reason to meet your neighbors.

5a. If you neighbors offer you help fixing a fence, cleaning up your yard or removing a tree, accept the offer graciously and don't forget about it.

5b. If you can offer something to your neighbors that they need, do it. Allies are a good thing to have.

6. A 40-gallon fish tank is a good reason to take a day off if you lose power. You cannot sacrifice the lives of your lovely fish just to go to the office and push paper around. That's what PTO time is for! Stay home and circulate the water manually and heat it on your wonderful gas stove to keep them happy and healthy. Your co-workers will understand.

6a. Cats get tetchy when the floor gets really cold.

7. Puget Sound Energy guys rock! Nearly 180,000 people were without power at one point, and now almost all of them are back on. They worked through the night cleaning up the damage, with the help of crews from Oregon, BC and Eastern Washington. Sure, we were without power for about 36 hours, but they worked themselves hard, in the dark, in the rain, in the horrible gusting winds, doing dangerous, nasty work to get us back on-line and watching our stupid TV shows. I doubt that most people are that dedicated to their work.

7a. Those guys driving the snow plows to clear the roads of branches and trees also deserve some props.

Tuesday, Dec. 09, 2003 - 6:31 p.m.

Maple Valley and Enumclaw have been declared disaster areas! My 'hood was on CNN! Woo hoo! We so rock! I've never lived in a disaster area before.

The tree fairies are coming this week to take away the tree that is threatening to destroy my house. If it falls, it will surgically remove the entire front wall of my house. Since it is so close to my house and has nowhere to fall, they have to use their happy fun spurs and jauntily climb the tree with their magical chainsaws and cut it into wee pieces and lower them to the ground, where they will rend them into tiny woodstove-bite sized pieces. Wanna guess what that's gonna cost me? A mere $800.00. And it will be another $1,000.00 to get the work done on the rest of the trees in that part of my yard to make them safer for future minor hurricanes. And the fence will probably cost me another $1,000.00 to replace.

Homeownership is the best.

Thursday, Jan. 22, 2004 - 5:38 p.m.

For probably the first time in my life, I have set a goal and I am working toward achieving something.

About 15 years ago, I saw a picture of a mountain called Prusik Peak. I wanted to see it. I found out what it would take to see it. I decided I didn't want to see it that badly.

But last weekend, I was sitting on my couch on my big fat ass eating truffles that I got for Christmas and my brain piped up, "Hey, let's hike The Enchantments this summer!"

And so it begins.

The Enchantments are legendary. If you mention them to local hikers, their eyes glaze over, they drool, they murmur, "Mmmmm... Enchantment Peaks... Gnome Tarn... Leprechaun Lake... The Temple... Dragontail... Aasgard Paaaaassss... (gurgle gurgle)." Its just that good. Merely 50 years ago, the area was still the Snow Creek Glacier. It is a valley full of tiny trees, lakes, ponds, tarns, and glacier-carved rocks surrounded by towering, spikey peaks. Alpiney goodness!

Unfortunately, they are also very popular. There's a permit system in place to keep the population down. You have to apply for a permit to get in for any overnight trips during hiking season, July 15 to October 15. It costs $3.00 a day to hike in the area. If your permit request arrives early they toss it in the garbage. The first day your request for a permit can arrive is February 21, and you had better believe that mine will be in that day, along with probably a hundred others. Do you think the forest service would accept a bribe? If I offer them cookies, will I get the permit for the week I want it? Perhaps REI gift cards would be preferred?

The plan: Hike up to Upper Snow Lake, camp. Hike up to the area around Sprite Lake, camp. Hike up to Prusik Pass, decend to the Sprite Lake camp, and camp. Hike up to Aasgard Pass, decend to Sprite Lake and camp again. Hike out on the last day.

I have a feeling that the pictures I take on this hike will be some of my best to date.

It is about 13.5 miles to Aasgard Pass. The entire hike is about 6500 feet of elevation gain, but broken out to 4 days - two days just getting to the Upper Enchantments, a day for Prusik Pass, a day for Aasgard Pass, a day to get out. I think that is more than reasonable. I can totally do this. I've done harder hikes in one day.

I am in training. Three days a week at the gym, one day of hiking a week every week until early hiking season, then two weekend camping trips a month until the big one. Drinking more water, eating more veggies and fruit and chicken, eating less of the cinnamon toast and mini muffins and praline ice cream, stairs instead of elevators.

I still need some gear. What I have is old and heavier than would be ideal, not to mention falling apart.

REI gift cards will be gratefully accepted.

Tuesday, Mar. 23, 2004 - 7:02 p.m.
Just a few things...

I got my permit to hike the Enchantments this summer. Woo hoo!

I caught my manager falsifying expense reports, and I'm now trying to get her in trouble. Woo hoo!

My new car has a light in the trunk. Woo hoo!

That's about it. Aren't you happy you don't have my so-called life?

Sunday, Jul. 25, 2004 - 6:52 p.m.

First of all, I am still alive. I have no life to write about, so I don't. I've been spending all of my time training for my big hike in the Enchantments in August. When I'm not hiking, I'm working or trying to get my house and yard cleaned up. So much to do, so little time. The last several weeks can be summed up by viewing my hiking pictures here.

Sunday, Sept. 05, 2004 - 3:56 p.m.

So I think the last time I did an entry it was about a big 5-day hike in the Enchantments. I did that hike. Actually, I just walked up steep creekbeds for 3 days in an outdoor shower somewhere out in the mountains. I couldn't actually see anything that was around me, so I could have been anywhere. According to the map, compass and GPS locator, I was there, but who the heck really knows.

It didn't rain for 6 months over there. Then they got 6 months worth of rain in the three days that I was there. No more Washington birthday vacations for me. It always rains, and that sucks. Next year I'm going somewhere in the Southwest: Red Rocks, the Grand Canyon, Death Valley, somewhere practically guaranteed not to rain.

In other news, I just started back to school to work on my bachelor's degree in accounting. Hopefully in two years I can get a better job with a competent boss who actually works for a living. We shall see. My program is supposed to be numerous classes, 5 class sessions per class, the first and fifth class held in person on Saturdays and the rest online.

At the last minute, they changed my first class so that it is on Tuesday nights. Naturally, this coincided with the only concert I've wanted to go to in years. Keane is going to be at the Showbox on Tuesday and I can't go because I have a team project to present that night. Dammit. They better come back to Seattle someday or I'm going to have to go to the UK to see them.

Other than that, nothing has changed. Same old boring life. Maybe school will change that.

Friday, Mar. 04, 2005 - 10:04 p.m.

So. Hi. Wanna guess why I haven't updated in 6 months? It is because I have had:

1. Nothing really to write about.
2. No time to write about anything.

This may seem to be a contradiction. How, you may ask, can I be so busy that I can't babble on and on, yet have nothing about which to babble on and on? Well, the fact is that the things keeping me busy aren't that terribly interesting.

Work is about the same. I no longer drive to work. I take the train. I get to read for pleasure on the train. That's my only substantial free time. I've cut work down to 8 hour days, and I take lunch breaks now. I am sick to death of certain aspects of my work situation, and part of the reason that I have cut my hours is just to spite my "supervisor". The other half of the reason is that I use my lunch breaks to do homework.

I am now working on my Bachelor's Degree in Accounting, something I should have done half my life ago but was too stupid to know it at the time. It must be going well, because I have a 4.0 GPA.

After I get home every day, I do more homework. During free moments, I harass my cat. On Tuesday, I watch "Scrubs" and "Committed".

On weekends, I go to class, do homework, clean my house, do laundry, do a little yard work, and do more homework.

I have no social life. A lot of people say that, but it truly applies to me. No. Social. Life. In September, I went to the Puyallup Fair with a classmate. In December of 2003, I went to a Sonics game. Those are the only two social events I have had in the last 13 months. Unless you count the visit to Mom and Hugh over Christmas last year, and the visits for her birthday and Mother's Day. Why no social life? No friends. That pretty much sums it up. I keep in touch with a few people by e-mail, and we talk about getting together but never do.

Since I started school in August, I haven't even had time to go hiking or get any photo shows together. I haven't updated the photo web site since August, either. Frankly, I'm surprised this one still exists.

So as you can see, there's not much to write about.

And yet, here I am again.

Thursday, Mar. 10, 2005 - 7:57 p.m.

This weekend was the social event of the season in Maple Valley. The streamers were strung, the crowds out in force, enjoying a bright, sunny, unseasonably warm winter day to witness the grand opening of the newly remodeled Safeway. I didn't realize that it was the date of the grand event when I went to buy kitty litter after school on Saturday and I couldn't find a parking spot. I went home and waited for 5:00 a.m. on Sunday to go back. It looks just like it did before they closed for remodeling. I have to admit, the two grocery carts of discounted Conversation Hearts just inside the door made it very inviting. I stocked up, of course, because I can get this particular brand of candy-flavored sugar patties only once each year. I should be set through about mid-April. It takes me that long to eat them because I have to read every single one before I can eat it.

Open letter to the @$$hole who broke into my car: The joke's on you. You didn't get the Platinum Visa out of the glove compartment, nor did you get the treasure trove of 76 CDs in the trunk, and insurance paid for all of the damage. And, oh, by the way, you suck.

So, are migraines supposed to make the left side of your face go numb? … Maybe I should see a doctor.

Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Guess whom I finally get to see in concert! Keane is coming back in May, and they will be at the Paramount, and so will I. I ordered tickets already. Woo hoo! May is going to be a very difficult month, so this is my treat to myself in advance for not killing anyone. I am taking two classes in May, I still have to work full time, and just for giggles, I will be helping our IT group to implement our new expense reporting software. Yay, fun. I so cannot wait for May.

Monday, Apr. 04, 2005 - 7:10 p.m.

My (ahem) supervisor tried to file something today. Filing is not her forté. If she was a singer and the alphabet was a song, Simon Cowell could be digging his own grave so that he could shoot himself in the head in order to roll in it.

Now that I take the train to work, I surreptitiously watch people while standing on the platform. Most people do the same thing every day. They stand around, alone or in groups, talking to one another or minding their own business. When we hear the train whistle from the other side of Kent-Kangley road, they stop, step toward the tracks, and look to see the train. Um… Why? Do they not know where it will come from? About half of them plug their ears as the train brakes, rather than just stepping back 5 feet, which cuts the noise level drastically. In protest of this ludicrous behavior, I make a point of just waiting until the train stops to acknowledge its existence.

This weekend, my plans consist of the following activities: fun, fun, and fun! I get to go drop off books at the library, gas up my lawn mower, have my septic tank pumped out, do homework, wash laundry, wash my car, clean my bathroom, cook, some real food that will provide leftovers for a few days, and a bunch of other fabulous time killers that I have written down in a notebook on my dining room table. I so cannot wait. I actually ache with anticipation. Alternatively, perhaps that is dread. Sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.

I have peeked at a few of the local hiking resources lately such as http://www.nwhikers.net/ to check out the hiking conditions. I do this to torture myself, knowing that I do not have time for the next 19 months to go hiking. Apparently, there is almost no snow left anywhere, and hiking season will begin very early this year. That also means that wildfire season will begin early. I feel for the firefighters who will have to deal with it. In addition to the high number of fires we will probably have, there will not be much water to use for fire fighting because of our unusually dry winter (see http://www.drought.unl.edu/dm/monitor.html). It will be interesting to see what happens with that.

And now, I'm off to harass my cat and/or do homework. I have to depreciate a truck over two years using the straight-line method. Yay!

Mad season

Weirdly, we've had snow. Not once, not twice, but somewhere in the neighborhood of five times. Nobody here knows how to drive in it, so it can take (I am not making this up) 8 hours (actually 7 hours and 45 minutes) to drive 17 miles from Seattle to Issaquah. Not good. I was smart and stayed home to avoid the traffic issues, but working from home slows me down terribly and I'm now behind with my job. Argh. On top of that, I'm just generally tired and unfocused at this time of the year. I may break down and see a doctor for some uppers or something.