counting the days. literally.


I didn't think it would be this bad, this soon. My last day in Omaha is Thursday, August 2nd. I'm officially at the end of this project. I'm not necessarily happy, but I'm not necessarily sad either. I guess ambivilent is a good word.

I like the people here - very much. In fact, I have a little nerd-crush on one of the guys I'm working with, and I'd probably marry one of the others if he'd have me. All 4 of the guys have been really great and fun to work with, and I'm nearly equally fond of all of them (except for the whole lust factor with my nerd-crush boy). I'm a little sad that I'm leaving them. But, it's Omaha. Nebraska. Flat, dry, humid, nasty Nebraska. Blech. Makes me want to go home to the lovely, green, temperate Pacific Northwest.

I like the project. It's been relatively easy, and they've been impressed with how well it's gone. Of course, I'm now in the documentation phase, which is my least favorite part. I keep swearing I'm going to do this part sooner, but it never works out that way - too many re-writes to keep track of. So that's making me want to run away.

I miss my kids. Badly. I have to force myself not to think about them, which makes me feel a little cold and heartless, but it's the only way I can get through this. I can't even write about it any more right now. That makes me want to get on a plane - .right. now.

I have a new job waiting for me - but the pay SUCKS. Yes, that's in all-caps for a reason. Truly, it's scary. I'm taking a massive cut in pay. Massive. Like, nearly 50%. Yeah, you read that right. A cut the likes of which I can't wrap my little brain around. I understand the trade-off - I get to be home all the time. Problem is, I also have to take on side projects to prevent turning off things like satellite service and internet access. And eliminating everything else in our lives that isn't a utility, house payment, or groceries. Oh, and credit card payments. Yikes.

So, I'm torn. I like the money that comes with being a contractor, but not the gamble that involves traveling to regions of the country best left to corncobs and people who regularly spell the name of their state backwards to moniker their buildings and businesses.
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Wholly unfamiliar with the full-court press


Few things about me have changed over the course of my adult life. I've always been tall, I've always had red hair and blue eyes, and ample breasts. I've always disliked the disproportionate amount of real estate between my top lip and the bottom of my nose (it makes an odd shadow in photos if I'm not lit well), and I've always wished I had some color to my eyebrows and eyelashes. And, I've always been lazy.

My body was saved from the effects of that laziness by sports in High School. I played both Volleyball and Basketball, which kept me in good enough shape to breakfast every morning at the Circle-K with my friend Danielle on chocolate milk (Hershey's, of course) and most often a doughnut - glazed, old fashioned. Of course, that was when I had a metabolism.

I'd say that the years have not been kind to me, but I really have no one to blame but myself. I never lost the amazing amount of weight I gained with Madison in the 2 years before I got pregnant with Kierstin, and since then I've added to the number significantly. I've completely stopped doing anything that involves raising my pulse rate above it's normal "resting" rate, which is nearing triple-digits, I'm sure. My point is this: Things in Debville are not pretty - not even remotely.

I mention all of these things because, despite the sad state of my body, something very strange happened yesterday. I got hit on by a total stranger, and it's confusing me something awful.

It started yesterday morning when I was at the drive-through at Taco Bell for breakfast. God, that looks pathetic - that sentence. I truthfully never eat Taco Bell for breakfast, but I was totally late for work, and it was the only thing in my path. Anyway... as I'm sitting there, looking in the window, there was a guy standing at the counter waiting for his food, wearing a hard-hat. He looked at me, and I smiled - nothing special, just the same smile I give everyone who I make accidental eye-contact with. I looked the other way. When I looked back, he was looking at me still. My first thought was "what's on my face", and I had to stifle the urge to check in the rear view mirror. Out of curiosity, I looked again - still looking at me and smiling. Odd. As he left, he crossed in front of my car, and smiled at me the whole time, then kept looking back at me. I know because I was watching in the side mirror. Shut up. Totally strange, as he was probably not more than about 25, and I'm old and fat. Whatever - there's no accounting for taste. Moving on.

Later that evening I went to a place called Granite City Food & Brewery for dinner. I ordered my favorite salad to go (Honey Rosemary Tenderloin and Focaccia - no tomatoes or onions) and proceeded out to the car to wait (Harry Potter audio book that I can't hardly tear myself away from). About 10 minutes later, I went inside to wait for my dinner. I sat on a bench, and noticed 3 men hanging out waiting to be taken to their table. Two of them had the same shirt on - something about road support on the back, Property of Boston - the band emblem - on the front. The third was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt. I looked at him, and he was looking at me, smiling. I smiled back, then turned my head to see the score of the Baseball game. I had the feeling that he was still looking at me, so I looked, and I was right. I smiled at him again. The hostess then started walking them to their table - in the direction of the TV I was looking at - and he turned around and smiled at me and gave me the eyebrows. I smiled, because that's just silly, and he kept staring at me until he went around the corner. Whatever.

At that point, my salad arrived, and I took it and went out to get in the car. As I was crossing to my car, I heard someone say "Where are you going?" I turned around, and it was the jeans and button up guy. I laughed, and told him I was going to have dinner. He told me I was welcome to join him and his friends, so I lied and said I had to go back to work. At that point he crossed the parking lane, and I got a little nervous. (He was only probably about 5'5" - maybe less - and kind of stocky, but I decided I could kick him in the nuts if things looked to go south). He was very nice, didn't try to touch me or anything, but it was just STRANGE. He told me I was a "very pretty lady" - I thanked him and told him that I was also a very married lady. "DANG! Oh, well." I told him to have a nice evening, and he started to cross back to the restaurant, when he stopped and asked me where I work. I lied again, and he went inside. Ummmm... ok.

This is not, I repeat, NOT, a normal occurrence in my life. When I was younger and much thinner, it happened every once in a while, but not every day or anything. It probably should have made my day, but it left me scratching my head more than anything. I mean, I had day-old hair and my glasses on. I was dressed for work in slacks and a white shirt - nothing revealing or sexy. I have no idea what it was all about. I'm still confused.
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Coach Sucks!


In retrospect, perhaps first class wasn't the best idea in the world. Don't get me wrong - the experience was lovely. The only bad thing was that the seat wasn't all that comfortable as far as my back was concerned, but the rest was wonderful to the point that I'm never going to be able to fly coach again. Between the legroom, the lack of shoulder-rubbing with my seat-mate, and the additional ass-room, I'll never go back. Add the little cup of warm nuts and a real glass for my drink, and it's like airborne crack. The food still wasn't great, but I got a warm towel to wash my hands with before I ate, and a lovely cloth napkin to prevent drippage - and my expectations for the food quality weren't all that high anyways.

I finally arrived in Omaha at about 2am - and the rental car counter was closed. After much frustration with Hotwire, I ended up renting a car for the night. I have to go pick up my real rental sometime before 9 tonight, which sucks because at Eppley Field, the rental car pickup and the rental car counter are about a mile away from each other. So, I have to return my current rental, hike into the terminal to rent another vehicle, then hike back out to where the car is and pick it up. Maybe I'll play dumb and just go up to the counter outside and act all pissy if the try and make me go inside. It worked with Budget last week. Heh.

I'm officially NOT looking forward to work for the next 2 weeks. My original project is complete, for the most part, except for one problematic element which I have to deal with in my spare time this week, which probably means 10 to 12 hour days. And I'm a little afraid of the project they're resourcing me on for this two weeks - it's big and ugly, and they just let one of the developers go on Friday because she wasn't getting the job done. I'm a little suspicious that they were counting on me being available longer than I've turned out to be, but that's probably just a little bit of ego rearing it's ugly head. Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm going to be able to accomplish in 2 weeks, but we'll see today.
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airport hell


I am way too old to stay up all night OR sleep on the floor.

I'm sitting in the Seattle airport at the moment, waiting for my last flight to Omaha... which is delayed 2 hours. I'm cursing at myself for not signing up for those text message updates from United. I could've had 2 more hours with the girls. Oh well. The good news happens to be that my connecting flight from Denver to Omaha is also delayed 2 hours, so I don't have to rebook or spend the night in Denver. I'm currently on hold with someone at Hotwire, who is verifying that my flight is, in fact, delayed. Apparently they don't just believe you when you call them. Whatever.

Today is Madison's 11th birthday. I flew home on Friday morning, because part of her birthday present was the "Wizard's Camp-In" at Seattle Science Center. We spent Friday night wandering around inside the Science Center, doing what they considered to be wizard-y activities. The new Harry Potter book released at midnight, and Mad stayed up until about 3:30 reading. They woke us up at 6:30 on Saturday morning to watch the Order of the Phoenix movie in the IMAX theatre, then promptly kicked us out. It was fun, I guess, but I had to resort to guerrilla parenting tactics by introducing Mad to a girl her own age to run around with, and foisting her on that poor girl for the staying up all night portion of the program. There was no way in hell I was going to make it much past midnight. I'm an old lady.

These weekend trips home have been good and bad. They're so short, so I feel like there's not enough time to deal with everyone who needs my attention. I can make Paul happy just by sleeping with him, so he's pretty easy. He says he has a hard time sleeping when I'm not there, but I can't see how that's true due to my snoring problem of the last few years. The girls are just starved for attention, and 48 hours doesn't seem to be enough to keep them from being moody and odd when I'm there. They feel like they have to compete for my attention. Kierstin was worse this time, because I spent so much time with Mad at the camp-in - she was practically hysterical when I got out at the airport.

I think we're all glad this is the last trip. In honor of it being the end, I upgraded myself to first class for today's flights, and I'll do the same for my flights home if given the option. I'm worth it.
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Random thoughts from Omaha


As I sit here in lovely Omaha, Nebraska, here's what I'm thinking:
  • Wow. I can't believe Beth is about to have a baby. It would have been nice to be around while she was going through all of the fun stuff, and the not-so-fun stuff. Not that I would have been around that much, I suppose. I kind of miss Sacramento sometimes.


  • The Nebraska judge's ruling regarding the banning of the word RAPE during a rape trial, which I just heard about on the news this evening, has left me, quite frankly, speechless. I can't even hardly produce a coherent thought on the subject. Makes me wonder what skeleton is in his closet that would prompt such a ruling. The word that keeps coming to mind is... why?


  • I'm glad that I'm not going to have to spend a week in Utah this summer. While I'm sad that I'm not going to be hanging out with the girls and hubby that week, I'm very happy that I'm not going to have to swelter in the heat at the lake for hours on end.


  • Why is it that the people who are supposed to pay me can't get their shit together and do it on time? And when I call to find out what the holdup is, instead of telling me the truth (I'm a big girl, I can handle it) they avoid my calls and don't return my emails. I'm sorry you're not getting paid, but that's SO not my issue. Pay me according to the terms of our contract, you sorry, simple bastards!


  • I don't take enough pictures any more. I have a fancy digital camera, and the last thing I took photos of was the geese on the roof of the neighbor's house.


  • I'm going to Kansas City (Kansas City here I come!) this weekend. I have no idea why I'm going to Kansas City this weekend, except that it isn't Omaha. I'm staying at the Westin, in a Park Suite, though I have no idea what, exactly, that means. I'm hoping for a really big bathtub. My only plans are to see the new Harry Potter movie and lose at least half of my next paycheck at the blackjack tables at Ameristar.


  • I need new shoes. Why do all of my summer shoes smell bad already?


  • When the hell does the next Project Runway start?? Soon???


  • tired
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Blah blah, ho hum...


waiting to be discovered
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
It's been cold here. And wet. And generally yucky. Life is sweet.
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My babysitter burns my girls hair all the time


Bride of frankenstein?
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
What I actually said, to the girl at Auntie Ann's while she was ringing up my giftcard, was "My babysitter brings my girls here all the time". She looked at me like I was a total loon, which I am - but that's beside the point.
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Love Hurts


I love my iPod. I love it more than I've ever loved any inanimate object in my lifetime, except for maybe those jeans I had in college that made my ass look like a wrapped gift from God himself. Unfortunately my iPod doesn't help my ass look better, but it does make me happy and keep me entertained on those 3 HOUR COMMUTE days that I've become subject to lately. It did, anyways.

I purchased the new-fangled iPod video (60G of ipod goodness) in February of this year. I loaded it up with my music and audiobooks, then began taking advantage of the video features. I downloaded stuff from the iTunes store, and I also used some very savvy websites to help me figure out how to get uTube content into a format that my iPod would recognize. I was a very happy woman. But then things started going downhill.

At first, it was just an odd reset now and again. It seemed to me to be happening at odd times - in the middle of an audiobook (which means that I completely lost my place) or when it would turn off automatically and I turned it back on, it would reset itself completely. It was annoying, but not a deal-breaker or anything. I could live with it.

But then it started doing it more often. I consulted the Apple - Support website and learned that the best course of action would be to reset it to the factory defaults and try again. So I did that, with no ill will at all. Everything went smoothly, and it was actually a surprisingly quick process. I was not upset at all.

A couple of times when I plugged it into the computer, I got a notice that the software needed to be updated. I let that happen gladly, thinking that it could only be a good thing. Maybe others were having the same issues as me and the good folks at apple were being proactive. But alas, it was not so. The thing kept resetting itself, now much more often than I was comfortable with. So I visited my friendly local apple store in downtown Seattle. Nice bunch of folks, those apple store people. The dude I talked with was very helpful, suggesting a number of different things I could do, including the factory reset again. Optomistic person that I am, I went home and did the reset again. Second time. And it still got worse. I reached my breaking point last month when it started freezing up or resetting every time I tried to play videos. It would either play the video, but the clickwheel wouldn't respond, or it would start playing the video for about .25 seconds, then reset itself. I did the factory reset one more time, trying to be rational and calm, but it didn't work. I had had enough, so I did a support request on the website, which was very easy and straightforward, and waited for them to send me a box for shipping.

I was pleasantly surprised a couple of days later when I got an email from them stating that, after reviewing my support request, that they were going to replace my equipment. Good for me. I figured that I can't have been the only person experiencing these issues, and perhaps apple was making good on my $500 investment. I sent them the iPod.

I've come to find out a few things about apple support which I'm not excited about. First, their communication language is the same wether they're actually "replacing" your item or resetting it to factory defaults and sending it back to you with a "no trouble found" tag. Seriously. It got it back and after reloading all of my stuff, the same damn thing happened when I tried to watch an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Immediate reset. Fuck.

I'm not going to go into the gruesome details any longer. Suffice it to say that after yet another factory reset, I'm still not able to watch video. I even pulled off all of the video stuff that didn't come directly from the iTunes store. No dice. I was driving home the other night, crossing the ship canal bridge, when I tried the video again, and it damn well froze up so I couldn't stop it. I did a very nasty 3-lane shift (in traffic) and got off at 45th and went stomping into the apple store. I explained to the very charming young man at the service counter that I was having problems again. In fact, he witnessed the very problems I was talking about his own self, plus he commented on the fact that he could hear a clicking noise that he shouldn't be hearing. He filled out a little form on his lovely Mac, and printed it out and I signed it and he took my beloved iPod away. Again.

So... now I have to suffer my nasty-ass, 2-hour+ commute without the calming sounds that my ipod provides. It's truly been so long since I've purchased an actual CD that I had to burn a few just to have something besides FM raido to listen to in the car. I'm not happy.

This morning I received a call from the apple store, stating that I needed to cancel my open service request (one I opened in frustration after reading the "no trouble found" comment on the last one) before they can send the ipod out for the service. The dude told me I could cancel it online, or call apple and cancel it. Which brings me to yet another sourse of apple-related frustration. RAR!!

I have never, in all of my searches - which included "find on this page" searches for the words 'phone', 'call', and 'fucking phone number' - seen anyplace which gives a number with which to contact someone human who can help you with your issues. Perhaps I'm retarded, but I just haven't seen it. It doesn't help, probably, that by the time I get around to wanting to talk to a human, I'm so frustrated that I can't even spell my own name any more, but that's beside the point.

So... here I sit, with no ipod, needing to cancel my service request (referred to as a 'replacement request' on the website. right.) and not being able to. The dude at the apple store is waiting for me to call him back so he can send my little friend away to be replaced by a new little friend to fall in love with again.

Sigh.
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Thankful


ladies
Originally uploaded by whiskotangey.
It's cliche, but it's true. I am thankful today and every day for friends and family who make life bearable.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.
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RAR!


Random things I'm thinking about today:
  • When can I stop driving 160 miles every day? Can it be sometime soon, please?

  • I'm getting the best pedicure in the known universe on Friday morning. The Picasso Pedicure here. It's not cheap, but it's worth every penny. Done by professional girls with fun personalities who are native English speakers. (give me a break. I like being able to chat with my pedicurist when I'm with them for over an hour in a small room. No bulk pedicures at this place.) They do an incredible job on my heels every single time. And the paint job is to die for. NOT your standard white flower with sparkly silver sprigs. The first time we went I got multi-colored polkadots. Another time I got a chocolate brown base with pink pinstripes and big white flowers. One of these times I'm going to get the Leopard print... but not this time. I'm getting something autumn-y... or maybe Christmas-y, because, yes, it WILL last that long. Seriously. The paint lasts until you have to take it off because your damn toenails have grown out too far for it to be cute any more. Maybe snowflakes...

  • I'm listening to ANTPodcast for the recap episode right now. It's good with the ladies, though I miss Scotty's input. One of the substitutes has a great laugh - not sure which one though. I think it might be Joey.

  • I need to take more pictures. Every day. It depresses me that I don't have the time or (lately) the desire to use my fancy camera for anything. I try looking around to find something to photograph, but everything I see bores me. It doesn't help that it's started raining here, and it doesn't look to stop until sometime in February. Or March. I think I'm depressed.

  • I've been charting my basal body temperature in an attempt to prove to myself, and my gynecologist, that I am NOT, in fact, perimenopausal. You read that right. Apparently my age, combined with my complete and total lack of any kind of regular cycle, points to menopause. Fuckity Fuck. If that's not the most depressing thing I've heard all day, I don't know what is.
I'm done whining for today. Probably.
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More about the ANTP'ers


OK - so Max now officially reminds me of Jason Schwartzman, but most definitely with the glasses from his Rushmore days. Their voices are nothing alike, so it's rather odd that this is the mental picture I'm working with since the basis for my picture is the voice. Heh.

Amy is eluding me still. The fact that she's said she's Asian does not jibe with my preliminary image, so I've had to go back to the drawing board for her. But I'll get there...
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The Halloween that went fftttt

That sound is something like the air being let out of a baloon.

OK, so I'm sorely disappointed in the lackluster turnout last night. I bought a metric fuckton of candy in anticipation of the marauding hoardes of beggars. The first poor lot that rang my doorbell got two items because I was rewarding them for being prompt. But as the night wore on, I was giving out great handfulls of stuff because of the sucky turnout. I would have thought that, being in a new housing development, we'd get absolutely raided. When I was a kid, coming across a place like where I live would have been cause for celebration, and two trips around the development. But it was not so. My doorbell rang exactly 8 times, and the most interesting thing that happened all night was the little girl dressed like a chicken who said, after I gave her a massive handfull of candy, "I had lemonaid. My cat died. How many stairs do you have?"

My kids froze their little butts off, but they had fun. This was, I'd have to say, our best Halloween to date. They're both old enough to really enjoy the costuming and getting ready part of the program now, as well as the resultant sugar high. They both took pillowcases to haul their loot instead of cute little buckets like they've always had before. They came home after going around our neighborhood (which was a sadsack little trip around, apparently. Lots of houses not participating) to warm up. Kierstin left with black and hot pink ski gloves on - a lovely addition to her Ice Queen costume.
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