Grape-Viney Goodness

Ugh. The Grapevine. I hate it. The Good Man thinks it's cool.

One thing is clear:

When we drop down on the other side we'll be in L.A.

Ugh.

But L.A. is that much closer to where I belong....

We meet again...

Hello I-5, my old friend. Together again.

This is ugliest stretch of road I know. And I am from New Mexico. I
know from ugly roads.

Let me put it into perspective:

I'd rather drive that stick straight desolate highway between Vaughan/
Encino and Roswell a thousand times than I-5 just once.

Ah well...

Mother New Mexico, I'm coming home.

Mobile post

In preparation for road trippin'...setting up mobile blogging.

Look at me going wireless.

Finally!

Woo hoo!

After months of obsessively turning over every quarter I get in change to see if I have a New Mexico quarter, I'm pleased to note that FINALLY one has made it's way into my hot little hands.

The Good Man actually received it and held it aside for me.

This just in time for me to visit Oh Fair New Mexico in the next couple days where I'll probably get them by the yard.

Oh well. It's still a happy thing!

Gotta find the bright shiny happy things in life, right?

Whoa!

Had a mindblower of a weekend.

In celebration of the birth of The Good Man, we had a (much necessary) weekend away.

Somewhere where cell phones don't work and television, p-feh…who needs 'em anyway?

We got a little wild. :)

We went to a place called Safari West. It's located north of the Bay Area, just outside of Santa Rosa.

It's an over 400-acre ranch that houses exotic animals of all kinds.

The owners have been working this place since the late 1980's and it's amazing.

I'm still processing it all…and the over 700 photos I took. (Yes, I said 700).

Highlights of the trip:

On the first night we were there, a baby Giraffe was born. It was a bit of a surprise to the Safari West folks. They knew mama Marla was pregnant, just didn't know she was ready to go.

Here's a photo of our as yet unnamed hero. This is about seven hours after his birth. Sssh, he's sleepin'.

Is a hard thing getting born. Especially for a baby giraffe who plummets some six feet to the ground with a whump then is up on his wobbly pins about an hour later.

Here he is a bit knock kneed but doin' it.

But that was not the only fascinating new thing…

That same night, Safari West took delivery of 38 flamingos and installed them in their new enclosure. I have always been a HUGE fan of flamingos. The Rio Grande Zoo used to have quite a few. Don't know if they still do. But as a kid, they made a big impact on me.

These are "greater" Flamingos (their "lesser" and more colorful cousins will be arriving soon).

From there, it's hard to pin down all the amazing things!

Lemurs.

Cape Buffalo (that's some scary sh-- right there….)

Cheetah

And on and on and on. That's not even scratching the surface.

OH! And Zebra. I adore Zebra.

And Watusi cattle!

And! And! And!

It was amazing. A photographer's dream (though tough too. Animals don't, you know, pose).

We also slept in genuine tent cabins constructed by South African craftsmen and modeled on safari tents, including wood floors and open space. They were actually really nice and quite comfortable, though a bit cold at night.

In the dark we could hear all the animals of the safari calling and howling and, you know, doing what wild animals do.

I can't even begin to write out how utterly geeked out I still am from the weekend…

We'll be talking about this for weeks.

Yipe!

Aw, who is that cute girl caught in the headlights?

That would be, you know, me.

Under 60 days out from "the big event" and my cool, calm demeanor has cracked.

Silly me to think that people to whom you pay an exorbitant amount of money would, you know, just DO their jobs.

I thought it was ridiculous when The Good Man told me early on we needed to manage these people. Nah, silly me thought. People will behave like professionals until they prove themselves otherwise.

Ah the proofs. So painfully coming in otherwise.

I think I understand how some people become Bridezillas.

I don't want to be a Bridezilla. I want to be a Bridecoolgirl. Or Brideprettyprincess.

My work life is pretty negotiation intensive. I spend 40+ hours a week telling suppliers how much they've screwed up and to get their collective sh-- together.

I try, oh do I try, not to do this in my personal life. Separation of church and state and all that.

Ooooh but no, they are making me get out my Incredible Procurement Hulk ninja skills.

Believe me…you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

This is supposed to be a party. When does it get fun?

And if I hear ONE more person tell me, "Oh don't worry! That day will be all about YOU!".....

My personal National Holiday

June 10th, a glorious day to be celebrated.

The Good Man was born on this day.

Feliz Cumpleaños my beautiful Gemini love.

I can hardly wait to celebrate today (and every day) with you.

Special thanks to the parents of The Good Man for creating such a genuinely good man.

I'm a very lucky girl….

Use your words.

Something is wrong with the fuzzy one.

No, not The Good Man. The one that's more fuzzy.

The Feline.

Something's amiss and we can't seem to figure out what, exactly it is.

It's not from lack of The Feline *trying* to communicate. Oh no, she's communicatin'

A lot.

Our normally fairly quiet cat is now taken to meowing. Insistently. Incessantly. Bowl is empty, the hailstorm of meows is ceaseless. Fill the bowl, the meows stop for a while, replaced by crunch, crunch sounds. Then, when sated, the meows begin again.

They don't sound like pain meows. Her ears aren't hot and she's not acting sickly.

Just the opposite, actually. She seems in fine health. She's dropped a couple pounds and her nose has healed up nicely. She seems in great spirits.

So what's with all the meowing?

I have heard about these devices made in Japan that will "interpret" your cat's vocalizations.

I can't help but think if we got one, the translations would be something like, "You people are boring. Get off the couch and hunt something! And what's with this food? Could I *get* some of that stuff out of that can with the picture of the mermaid on the side? And while we're at it, I need bottled water in this bowl. And this collar makes me look fat!"

Maybe sometimes it's better not to reach out and paw someone…

Come to me…

Sweet precious weekend.

Glorious, tasty two days of freedom from the shackles that bind.

I need it.

Crave it.

And yet…here I am at work. I have more meetings yet to go today. Many more. One of them will be rather ugly.

So I'm still on an uphill trudge.

But other than the weekend, I have something to keep working toward. See, last night I had a conversation with my best good friend. If you can believe it (I can't) we celebrate twenty years of friendship this year. Mind boggling.

She makes her residence in Las Cruces and graciously offered to throw a backyard "together" for The Good Man and me and a variety of our friends. It will be a chance to catch up with my New Mexico familia and I couldn't be MORE excited to be there.

I mean, it's not just seeing old friends, hugging my beautiful godkids, breathing clear desert air, seeing mountains in the distance, resting, not working, but also one big reason……

I'm running about a quart low on green chile.

The Topic Fairy Has Left the Building.

The Muse is ignoring me today.

The stark white blank Word page stares at me…mocking.

I usually am chock full of ideas.

Today, the brain, she no wanna create.

Since I normally comment on my life (hell, I made an entire post about breaking my jump drive) you'd think there would be plenty to discuss.

It's all just kind of *meh* today.

Oh well. Check this space.

I’m gonna go hunt the Topic Fairy and drag her back by her wings.

Utter distruction.

I have this fabulous little SmartDisk drive that I adore.

It has this great form factor that rocks. It's one inch by one inch square with a little flip out arm for the USB connector.

It is twelve nice-and-roomy GB's. I admit when I bought it, I thought 12GB was an odd size, but whatever.

Been carrying this around in my backpack for about a year now. It has all of my blog post drafts, lots of photos, a couple videos, much of my writing and various other things. I just dig this little guy.

It's what I use at work so no personal stuff ends up on the work machine. All safely put away on a jump drive. And I can take work files home on it and not have to carry my entire laptop.

About a month ago, my Little Drive turned up missing. I was distraught. I had gone sailing out of the office late for the shuttle bus and was just sure it had fallen out of my handbag as I ran.

I was heartsick. I had made that major IT error. I had failed to back it up. It had several original files on there, including the beginnings of a new novel. I was 6,000 words into it, and sure, I could recreate, but who wants to!?

Highly depressed, I went back to the online store where Little Drive was procured only to discover they no longer make the 12GB version. The best I could do was an 8GB, so I bought one.

I was too depressed to even fire up this new drive. Unsure what to do, I soldiered on. Until I got a call from security at work . Seems they found Little Drive on the shuttle bus. I almost wept with joy. I ran over the security department and retrieved my creative soul. I immediately brought it back to my desk and backed it up to my Big Daddy firewire drive.

Whew.

So, reunited, we began again, writing together, saving interesting tidbits. A letter to the editor. A draft of an entry to a local poetry contest. Yes! We were happy again, side by side.

Then there was yesterday…

For the past several days I'd had that odd back of my mind feeling that I needed to backup Little Drive. Paranoia, I think, after being parted. But when I got to work, I got out Big Daddy drive and backed Little Drive up.

Then I plugged Little Drive in and started working on some stuff.

Later, I had to attend a "lunch and learn" meeting that I'd rather have poked my eyes out than sit through…

So I decided to take my MacBook and "appear" to be working while really working on my own stuff. I had Little Drive attached to the MacBook. In a rush to get to the meeting, I hurriedly picked up my MacBook and whacked Little Drive on the underside of the shelf right above the laptop stand.

Broke the USB connector, yes I did. Well, it was connected…but hanging there by its blue and red and green and yellow wires…

I was able to gingerly plug it back in and it mounted. Yes! I pulled off the files I'd worked on that day (that didn't make the morning backup) then I ejected the drive.

I peered into the little arm and thought "well, it's connected, I'll just push this back in and it will work fine."

I'll spare the suspense. I did and it didn't. Meaning I fixed it but it no longer worked.

So I yanked the USB connecter back out. My "fix" had snapped off all the wires.

Damn.

I pried open the cracked plastic a bit and took a look. It didn't look good. But I thought maybe I could take it home and fiddle with it. Ok, to be fair, since I'd backed it up, there was no need to resuscitate this drive…I'm just…emotionally attached to it.

Owing to being "raised by engineers" (an honor bestowed on me by the engineering team of which I was a part of…as their financial analyst…right out of college) I figured I could figure this out.

I mean, my dad could make a toaster last for thirty years, I could fix a damn USB connector!

The Good Man suggested that even if I fixed it, odds of "data loss" were high with my kludgy fix.

Well, he needn't have worried.

In one of those bits made for sitcoms, the more I tried to fix it, the more I broke it. I kept trying to pull the wires out a bit more. Trying to take the shielding off so I could get more space. All I did was fray the wires to unrecognizablility.

Then I thought maybe I could pop out the 12 GB drive and put it in the 8GB case! The one with the working USB connector!

After busting it wide open, I discovered that, yeah, those wires were attached to the drive in such a way as to not be easily removed.

Basically, I pulled a big ol' Bull in a China shop on this poor little drive. It's now in many, many pieces on my desk at home.

*sigh* Gonna miss you, old friend…

So the new 8GB has gotten the call to the bullpen. You're up, fella. Let's see what you got.

Sweet Jebus!

Heather Wilson lost.

: sigh of relief :

Patience

I don't have it.

Despite it's virtuous qualities.

Was talking with a friend at work today (she's my lunch buddy). We were lamenting a current frustrating situation involving both of us.

She said, "I know the universe must be testing my patience, this just has to be a lesson."

I said, "Well, I must be having to learn this lesson just by being in proximity to you. I'm *sure* I'm good on the patience."

To which we both burst out laughing.

I have to wonder how I got so damn impatient with the world.

Then I remember my hop-from-foot-to-foot-like-a-flea father and wonder how I ever could have ended up a patient person. He was a good man, but patience wasn't his virtue either.

Ah well. I yam what I yam.

An ode to the Conductor

On this sleepy Monday morning, I made my usual walk to the CalTrain station, The Good Man at my side.

As we strolled on the platform, the northbound train rolled by. TGM commented how some trains seem to be quieter than others. We pondered why that would be.

Then I observed that sometimes on the train it is a smooth ride and sometimes it gets this side-to-side sway that is not only nausea inducing, makes it impossible to read.

I wondered why that happens sometimes, but not always. Is it the track they use? Or do they take a corner too fast? Or what?

Without any good answers, I boarded the train.

Stalking up and down the aisles, I discovered there was no seat to be found. "Hmph. Busy day," I mused to myself, then took up a standing position in the vestibule near the front of one of the cars (where the doors are).

There I stood with several of my fellow riders when the Conductor came along, checking tickets. I see this guy most mornings. He's a hard case guy. I would guess he's been on the train a lot of years and is nearing retirement. I can say this, he's not willing to take any guff off of anyone.

Clearly, the overindulged Bay Area youth with their Blackberries, iPods and laptops impress him not at all. A meat and potatoes guy, he's short and thick fingered with a boiler belly and his conductor's cap worn firmly on his graying head.

So I stand there, riding the train, sleepily looking out on the passing world when the train picks up speed. Boy did the car start a rockin' back and forth. And squeaking. A metal on metal sound.

I looked over at the conductor, he's got a wide stance, both black-booted feet planted firmly on the ground, no need to hang on for this man. Me, I'm wrapped around the steel pole like a recalcitrant stripper, barely able to keep my balance.

The Conductor casually lifts his walkie-talkie to his mouth and says, "Can you bring this thing down about 10 miles? Car 4002 has side sway."

The Engineer replies, "You got it" and noticeably the train slows. The rocking stops.

"Thanks," I said to the Conductor, "That's a much nicer ride."

"Yeah, this car has real bad side sway," he gruffs out in reply.

I nod, "thanks" I say again, then most of the people around me also give a "thanks".

The Conductor continues, "This is only a four car train today, it's going to be that way for a while."

I nod, understanding now why I couldn't find a seat.

"They took all the handicapped cars out, doing some retrofit I think. So since all those cars are out, any of the other cars, whether they need repair or not are back in service. This one needs to be fixed, but that won't happen for a while," he says, chuckling and shaking his head in a world weary way.

I nod understandingly, and give him that "what are you gonna do" shrug.

"It's been a tough day, twice we've had doors get stuck," he continues.

"Won't open or won't close?" I question.

"Oh, they open fine, but they get stuck back in the mechanism and we can't get them shut." He shakes his head again. I nod again.

"And the handicapped cars, those are where we store the lavatory supplies. We have one bathroom on the train and there's no toilet paper. We have to use paper towels. But you can't flush paper towels so we have to put a yellow (hazardous) bag in there. And the sink don't work. People are washing their hands with bottled water."

I make a mental note to myself to make sure I use the loo before boarding the train this afternoon…

And I think, "wow, his day kind of sucks."

"Ah well, it's only downhill from there," he says and shrugs, then picks up the PA mike and announces our pending arrival to Palo Alto.

He nimbly jogs down the steps off the train and onto the platform where an whiny kid approaches him saying, "The validator machine doesn't work!"

The Conductor sarcastically replies, "What, OUR machines? I can't imagine…"

He signs the ticket for the kid, makes his routine inspection at the stop, climbs back on and gets back to business.

All in a days work.