What a Monday

This past weekend was a productive one in the Nerd Clan household. It was our daughter's 11th birthday. My parents came 'round to redecorate her room into one a little more "mature". The bubblegum pink walls were covered in a muted green. Grown-up, floor-length curtains covered the windows. All of the little girl toys went to one of three places: keepsake storage, giveaway box, or the garbage.

Sunday was spent finishing up a few odds and ends, but it was mostly restful and quiet.

Monday started relatively well. The brand-new 11-year-old was staying home with a cold, and Avindair was going to stay home with her.

"We'll snuggle on the couch and watch movies," he said. "It'll be a nice father-daughter day."

In my rush to get ready for work, Avindair offered to let me take his car. The one with the heated front seats.

"It'll be a treat. I'll even run out and get it warmed up for you."

Minutes later he came back in... an edge to his voice."Someone smashed our passenger side window."

Crap.

I threw on my shoes and ran out to the car. It was smashed in, all right. With a blank space on the windshield where our 2-month old portable GPS used to be. Nothing else was touched.

Our insurance company, Geico, was fantastic. One phone call and they made an appointment for a glass company to come out today and fix it in our driveway.

The police came to make a report. It was a little bit of a relief to find out that we weren't alone. Four home in our neighborhood got hit that they knew of so far. No one suspected until this morning. The NerdHound didn't even wake up. Of course, we're so used to the sounds of teenagers roaming the streets at all hours of the night (even though our suburb has a curfew), that I suppose we've become accustomed to a certain level of noise. At least we could take some comfort in the fact that we weren't singled out.

What now? Tony's father-daughter sick day has turned into "fix things and make the house secure" day.

1. An electrician is coming out today to install motion-detection lighting on the garage. We had our lights on, but according to the police, the motion-detection lights are a great deterrent for any future problems.

2. 1-800 Got Junk is coming out to haul away our remodeling refuse so that the cars can go back in the garage.

3. The auto glass place is coming to fix the car window.

One good thing, we were able to provide the police with the serial number for the GPS. If the thieves try to sell it at a pawn shop, we might be able to piss on their day just a little bit, too.

Now all we need to do is put signs around the house reading, "TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT". You think the neighbors will object?

Meme Time

MagicMarmot meme. After the last post, I felt the need to lighten up and talk about ME! *wink*

1. Does someone love you?
Yes. Yes, someone does. :-)

2. Do you know anyone named Dave?
Several.

3. Ever kissed anyone with the name starting with a J?
I think so. The list isn't that long. I should remember.

4. Has anyone ever mistaken you for a family member?
What an odd question. No... I don't think so?

5. Have you ever tried Propel Calcium Water?
Is this a marketing ploy in disguise? No.

6. What color are the walls of your bedroom?
Bland off white - but I aim to change that soon.

7. Do you think that hair extensions look skanky?
It depends what hair on the body the extensions are attached to.

8. Are you named after a grandparent?
Nope.

10. Say you were given a drug test right now. Would you pass or fail?
I'd pass. I don't abuse illegal chemicals.

11. Are you taller than 5'6“?
Yup.

13. Ever see a dead body?
Many.

14. Do you like the color green?
Love it.

16. How are you?
I think, therefore I are.

17. Who was the last person to send you a text message?
Tony. Trying to figure why people send text messages. I just don't text.

19. Last restaurant you went to?
Boston's

20. What is the weather like today?
Cold, windy... and I just saw the first snow of the season.

21. Last voicemail you received?
My daughter - telling me she was going to a friend's house.

22. What did you do yesterday?
Cleaned house. Saw a movie with Avindair, Saveau and Temple Viper. Got to hold a corn snake (cool!).

23. What's the first thing you would do with five million dollars?
Deposit the check.

24. What nationalities are you?
Mostly Irish, Scottish and Norwegian.

25. How many hours did you sleep last night?
About 8. It was a good night's rest.

26. Any upcoming concerts you want to attend?
No. Besides, they're really pricey and I'm cheap.

27. Who's the last person that you felt was stalking you?
The last person I felt like stalking was... oh, wait... who I felt was stalking ME?

28. Have you ever been on your school's track team?
Grade school -- but I hardly think "Softball Throw" counts much.

29. What jewelry are you wearing?
A pair of amber and silver studs. A pair of silver / "diamond" studs. My spiral goddess pendant. My wedding rings. :-)

31. If all of your friends were going on a road trip, would you?
Only if all my friends were going to put rings in their noses and jump off a cliff, too.

32. How much money do you have?
Plenty for my needs. Not quite enough for my wants.

33. Do you swear at your parents?
Never. Though I do swear near them.

34. Is your phone right beside you?
Two of 'em. Work on one side. Cell on the other.

35. Have you cried today?
Not yet. Why? Should I have?

36. Do you think that someone is thinking about you right now?
Yes. The person reading this!

37. Do you untie your shoes every time you take them off?
No. Especially the slip-on ones.

38. What is the color of your bedsheets?
Currently - burgundy.

39. Have you ever crawled through a window?
Crawled and climbed. But the real question is, did I break in? ;0)

40. Are you photogenic?
With the right lighting, make-up, angle, and lense.

41. What's your sign?
Sagittarius, baby.

42. Where do you spend most of your money?
House payment.

43. What was the last thing you did?
Typed this. Duh.

44. Do you have a tattoo?
On my scalp. 666.

45. Do you still watch cartoons on Saturday mornings?
Nope. I watch my cartoons at night.

46. Is there a secret you've never told any of your friends?
There are secrets I haven't told most of friends... does that count?

47. Have you ever told someone you loved them but didn't mean it?
No. That's cruel. Mean it or don't say it.

48. Have you ever changed your clothes while in a vehicle?
Yup.

49. What are you doing in 2008?
Metabolizing, albeit slowly.

50. What is your ringtone?
The T-Mobile default.

51. What were you doing at 2am last night?
Snoozing. Dreaming. Drooling.

52. What is the last movie you watched?
30 Days of Night with Avindair, Saveau and Temple Viper.

53. What are you doing tonight?
Taking down the Halloween decorations before they get frozen into place for the winter.

54. What are you doing tomorrow?
Work. Laundry. Maybe a little World of Warcraft.

57. Does it annoy you when someone says they'll call but never do?
Yes it does.

58. What did you dress up as for your first Halloween?
Wow. That one STUMPED me. I don't have a clue! I remember Halloweens as a witch, a hobo (when it wasn't non-PC to dress that way), a mime, a paper tiger. I also distinctly remember being Sabrina (from the Bewitched TV series) with the once-poplar horrible plastic mask and poncho-style plastic overdrape. Remember those?!

59. What is the wallpaper on your cellphone?
Cool blue spirals.

Your Papers, Please?

We all know how the criminal justice system works in this country. A crime is committed. A perpetrator is identified. Evidence is brought against them. They go to court. But in every case, the defendent is required to know and understand what they are accused of and have the chance to refute the evidence brought against them.

Unless, of course, under the current administration, it's a matter of "National Security".

I've been quiet about this for a week and a half, but it's time.

Two weeks ago I traveled back and forth between Minneapolis and Dulles International (Washington, D.C.) with my husband and kids. We were taking a quick trip to visit friends and family. In a repeat performance from our trip to Orlando earlier this year, I once again got "selected" for the special security treatment on the flight out. (On the Orlando trip the entire family got the pat down treatment coming and going.)

After a really lovely weekend in D.C. and Lynchburg, we headed back to the airport. We picked up our tickets at the counter (since I mysteriously could not print out boarding passes at home) and headed for the security line. My 10-year-old daughter stood with me, while Avindair took care of our 15-year-old son. I handed TSA Guy our boarding passes and my ID. This was the conversation we had.

TSA Guy: (pointing at my daughter) I need her photo ID.
Me: She's only 10. She doesn't have a photo ID.
TSA Guy: Huh? I need her ID.
Me: We're not flying overseas. We're only traveling domestically. She doesn't need identification for domestic travel.
TSA Guy: (to TSA Gal next to him - pointing at Kate) Doesn't she need an ID?
TSA Gal: Um... nah. They don't need IDs if they're 15 and under.
TSA Guy: Oh.
TSA Gal: Oh... wait. No... I think it's 18 and under.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK!

The crack security staff didn't even know how old you had to be before you needed a photo ID? These people passed their training? HUH?

Finally, he grudgingly handed back our boarding passes and my ID and allowed us to get in line.

Wait... I don't get the "special treatment" today? I'm going through the line like a normal person for the first time in a long time? It's my lucky day!

Three more TSA people look at my boarding pass, walk me through the metal detector, slide my binned travel bag and shoes through the scanner, and finally allow me to be on my merry way with my family.

We had arrived at the airport very early. The plan was to get through the infamously difficult Dulles security, eat dinner in the terminal, then sit quietly, relax and read until the flight boarded. All was going as planned until about 30 minutes before boarding.

"Would passenger GeekGoddess (name removed to protect the innocent-until-proven-guilty) please come to the gate counter?"

Fearing the worst, I walked up to the counter, Avindair and the kids trailing behind me. At the time, I thought the worst would be a problem at home... someone in the hospital, an accident. Maybe they couldn't reach me on my cell phone.

Nope.

Turns out security had contacted the airline. I was supposed to have had the "special treatment" and get a "special stamp" on my boarding pass before getting on the flight. Apparantly, the crack TSA staff hadn't done it and the airline wasn't going to let me on the flight without it.

*****
NOTE: At that time I wondered, just how did they *know* I didn't have the stamp without looking at my boarding pass? How did the TSA know to call the airline? I found out today. Before every flight, no later than 15 minutes before departure, airlines have to send their passenger list to the TSA. The TSA then checks that list against the No-Fly (means you are NOT flying) and the Watch (means that you get the "special treatment") lists. Of course, they don't tell the passengers this.
*****

It took the airline gate staff another 15 minutes to FIND A WORKING TELEPHONE NUMBER for the TSA desk to call them back and ask what to do with me. Apparently, they never found it. Eventually, a surly Continental staff member showed up to escort me all the way back to the security checkpoint, leaving Avindair and the kids at the gate... confused and worried.

As she led me away, slowly rambling along the long concourse, she complained about the long day she'd had and mumbling that I could catch a shuttle back.

Me: A what???
Her: A shuttle.
Me: Why do I need a shuttle? Where am I going? My flight leaves in 30 minutes and my family is waiting for me.
Her: Aw, you'll probably make it.
Me: First, I don't know this airport. Second, where am I going?
Her: Back to get a stamp.
Me: A stamp from where?
Her: Security.
Me: You mean the main security checkpoint? All the way back by the ticket counters?
Her: You'll make it back. It only takes 7 minutes if you use the moving sidewalks.

Fuck.

So. We finally make it to security. Continental Gal start arguing with the TSA Guy #2 over my need for a "special stamp". They argue some more. TSA Guy #2 decides to get a supervisor involved. TSA Super #1 argues with TSA Guy #2 and Continental Gal. Then TSA Super #2 joins in the fray. I jump in with "FLIGHT BOARDING IN 15 MINUTES! FAMILY WAITING AT GATE!" I'm given a look by all of them that sees me as more of a noisy child than a US Citizen/paying passenger. TSA Super #1 suggests I have a seat while they make some phone calls.

I wait for another 10 minutes.

Anxiously.

At last, TSA Guy #3 calls me over to once again take off my dangerous jacket, my dangerous shoes, empty my dangerous pockets, and put my dangerous carry-on in the bin. I once again walk through the metal detector (who knows what I might have picked up on the OTHER SIDE of the security barrier the first time). I get the pat down, have TSA Gal #2 swab down my belongings for bomb-making residue.

At least TSA Guy #3 has the decency to look sheepish and say, "Sorry about this," as he stamps my boarding pass with the stamp that TSA Guy #2 said didn't exist.

Continental Gal looks up at me from her magazine and says, "You know the way back," and turns away.

I look up at the clock. Boarding for my flight should be starting about... NOW.

I start to run. I'm guessing it's about 3/4 of a mile. Oh, and the moving sidewalks? Ha! More like mechanical arteries blocked by human plaque.

I arrive at my gate as boarding is beginning. My husband is worried... and angry. My even-tempered son is fuming and furious. My daughter is scared and crying.

After a lot of arguing, Avindair finally pried out of an attendant that I'm on the TSA's "Watch List".

Why? Who knows? Hundreds of thousands of people are on it. The government doesn't have to tell us why. The criteria are a matter of "national security". It could be as simple as having a name similar to someone on the No-Fly list... or it could be "something else". They just won't tell you.

When I got home, I did a little research. The facts so far:

1. There's no way of knowing why you are on the list.
2. The TSA admits that there are many people on the list in error.
3. There is no method an individual can take to be removed completely from the list.
4. If you provide the TSA with more personal information about yourself, you may be shifted to a "verified" portion of the list... but you'll still be subjected to the same scrutiny when traveling.
5. I can no longer print boarding passes from home.
6. I can no longer use eTicket machines at the airport.
7. Every time I fly, I have to wait at the ticket counter to receive a boarding pass from the airline representative.

In short:
- I've been accused of something by our government - along with thousands of other U.S. Citizens.
- My personal freedoms are being curtailed by a government agency without having to provide me with reason, evidence or proof.
- It's impossible to defend myself, when I don't know what I'm defending myself against.

Without having to site criteria, under this umbrella of "national security", who knows what reasons normal U.S. Citizens are being treated like criminals? Is it truly to keep terrorists out? Or is it to "legally" profile and track people based on religion, political affiliation, cultural activities, personal opinion...? We don't know. And if you ask... if you question... you might just end up on a list yourself... perhaps for being "Un-American".

I'm still trying to decide what to do... how to handle this. The ramifications of being identified on this list are more than a little frightening to me. Here I am: 40-year-old woman, married 20 years, mother of two, home owner, good work record, business owner, tax payer, former government employee with security clearance, former Girl Scout leader, never had a run in with the law for more than a speeding ticket, grew up in a Cessna with a father who was a flight instructor... but I get treated like a criminal now every time I travel.

The Watch list, by the way, is filled with people who are considered a potential threat to civil aviation.

Does the description above sound like I'm a threat?

Have you seen the news lately? You all might be joining me before long. Check this out:

http://www.theregister.co.uk/2007/10/12/flying_into_data_hell/

There are lots of other good articles/blogs about this. Just do a Google search on "government permission to fly". Funny. For something as important as this, I didn't see anything on the regular news.

If this rule goes into effect, forget about flying off to a romantic getaway at a moment's notice.

Your papers, please?

My Daemon

Taken from Trees at Anomalous Data!

More DRUGS!

Yup. That's what this country needs. More drugs!

At least according to an article off the Associated Press this morning: More Young Adults on Cholestoral Drugs.

You know WHY more young adults are on these drugs? You know why there is a greater incidence of obesity and high blood pressure?

Let's examine the recommended lifestyle to be able to stay off the cholesterol drugs. Eat right, exercise, and lose weight. Sounds simple, but when the average American has to work 2-3 jobs to keep his head above water, runs through the McDonald's drive-thru and eats in the car along the way, it makes it a little difficult. Or when a full-time job means 60 hours a week instead of 40? Where do you find time to exercise and cook even one healthy meal when you can't even find the time for a full night's rest? Now, add a spouse, kids, a house, and all the other responsibilities of life on top of that.

What do you mean you don't have time to go to the gym? What do you mean your "too tired"? What do you mean you can't go to the store to select lean cuts of meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, and create a healthy meal? It's easy! If it's REALLY important to you, you'll MAKE the time!

How's about instead of curing our cholesterol with pills, we examine the American lifestyle? But it's a nasty, vicious cycle. If you tell your boss to go get bent, you're only working 40 hours a week, you'll get fired. If you decide to work one job instead of three, you'll lose your home. If don't have a full-time job, you won't be able to afford health insurance. If all you can afford is the 79 cent box of mac and cheese and not the $3 head of lettuce, guess how healthy you're going to eat?

How do you fix it? Just take a pill. Every day of your life.

But in order to HAVE that pill, you have to have a job... or several. The job, and the unhealthy lifestyle mandated by having that job, leads to the high blood pressure and high cholesterol, which leads to needing the medication, which leads to having to keep the job to afford the medication, which leads to pharmacuetical companies smiling all the way to the bank.

Grump.

I've got other things to write about -- boy, DO I -- expect more blogging very, very soon.

Next up -- my rant on the TSA.

The 2030 Problem

Some of you may remember my post from September, Beware of Aging, outlining the worries my mother is going through caring for her elderly mother and the outrageous cost of care.

Quick update. Grandma was moved into a nursing home a couple of weeks ago. During that time she's undergone an evaluation to determine the level of care she needs and to figure out exactly what the cost will be. We have the answer - $195 per day - about $6000 per month - $72,000 per year. Much more than the average full-time worker in America makes in a year.

Even when the nursing home insurance kicks in in three months, after they've incurred over $18,000 out of pocket in care bills, it will still only pay out $2700 per month, leaving $3300 out of pocket.

The solution? Mom and Dad haven't figured that one out yet. Just a few days ago, care workers visited my Dad's mother. This grandmother has just come home from several months in the hospital and can no longer take care of herself either. Mom and Dad have to find a way to put two grandmothers, on opposite ends of the country in nursing care or give up what years they have left on their own good health, caring for them themselves.

This is insane. And it's only going to get worse - it's called the "2030 Problem". That's the year when the youngest of the Baby Boomer generation will turn 66 -- and will number 61 million people in our country facing care needs. Those born prior to 1946 is estimated to number 9 million. Conservative estimates of long term care costs from the Congressional Budget Office set expenditures at $154 billion in 2010, $195 in 2020, and $270 billion in 2030. Currently about 59% of care is paid for by the government, about 40% by individuals, and a meagre 1% by private insurance.

"The $120 billion in current expenses underestimates the economic resources devoted to long-term care, however, because most care is delivered informally by family and friends and is not included in economic statistics. Among the elderly who require assistance with daily activities, 65 percent rely exclusively on families and friends and another 30 percent rely, at least in part, on informal care. It has been estimated that the economic value of such informal care-giving in the United States reaches $200 billion a year--one and a half times the amount spent on formal care giving (Arno, Levine, and Memmott 1999)."

There's also a shortage of people willing to go into the elderly care industry. Low wages and poor benefits are the rewards of caring for an aging America.

Granted this is just one of the problems facing our nation in the future, but it's a future my kids will be inheriting. What burdens are we placing on future generations by our lack of attention to this growing dilemma? What kind of a country are we handing over to the next generation?

Missing Chins

I miss Chin's Asia Fresh.

We used to have one by my workplace. It was recently replaced by *retch* LeeAnn Chin.

Chin's was just what it claimed to be - fresh, cooked to order, "Asian" food. The meats were moist with hardly a bit of extra fat, the vegetables were crisp and colorful - never overdone. It was a place I could go for lunch where I could be sure that the nutritional value was high and I wouldn't bust my diet.

Unfortunately, with the demise of the Plymouth location, there are only two -- count'em with me -- TWO locations left in Minnesota.

Today I was out running errands at lunch time, like I do, and wanted to grab something quick to go back to the office. What do I have nearby?

Taco Bell - Choose 1 taco slop delivery system (A. hard shell, B. soft shell, C. flour tortilla). Fill it with hamburger slop, chicken slop, or bean slop. Garnish with onion slop, cheese slop, hot sauce slop, and sour cream slop. Wrap in paper and serve with a sneer.

Panera - Menu items described by words like artisan, fuji, harvest, orchard, and Parisian, which really mean "stick to half-portions or you'll gain 5 lbs. today."

Pot Belly - Tasty sandwiches, with lots of calories, that cost far too much for what you get... and a line that goes on forever.

Chipotle - IF you watch what ingredients you choose, can be very low cal and healthy, but if you arrive at noon, kiss a quick lunch goodbye.

Salsaritas - Pretty much the same as Chipotle.

Noodles & Company - REALLY have to watch what you order here. Can be very high in calories and fat. Plus, the noodly entrees can be really heavy, even with lots of veggies.

Buffalo Wild Wings - A few light menu choices, but SLOW, SLOW, SLOW!

Then there's LeeAnn Chin.

Today, I chose it because there was no line, it was right next to the place I'd run my last errand, and I figured I could find something that was halfway healthy. And I did. By not eating it.

The biggest difference between LeeAnn Chin and Chin's Asia Fresh is when the food is prepared. LAC has heated vats of their entrees, sitting under a warmer, waiting to be chosen like awkward teenage girls at a dance. By the time my so-called entree of stir fry chicken had reached my fork, the once crisp snow peas, broccoli, mini corn, and onions had become a pile of barely identifiable green and brown mush. Disgusting doesn't cover it. It was inedible. Much like the last few times I ventured through their doors. I dribbled a bit of soy sauce on the untouched steamed rice, picked what I could stomach, and threw the rest away. And I'm not a picky eater. Just ask my waistline.

Here's what I don't get. In all of the LeeAnn Chin locations I've tried, I've never really had good food. Each event was usually due to a time-crunch or an overwhelming craving for "Asian" food. If you go to LAC's corporate website, you'd think their egg rolls walked on water: Best Chinese Food - Mpls St Paul Magazine, Best Chinese Food - Minnesota Monthly Reader's Restaurant Survey, Best Chinese Food - City Pages, Best Take Out - Mpls St Paul Magazine. HUH? Are their taste-buds DEAD?

Add that to the sit-down restaurant prices for cafeteria line food? Never again. Last straw-ville for me. Not by the hair of my LeeAnn Chinny-chin-chin.

An Evening with Sir Ian McKellen

McKellen in "King Lear", 2007 - Directed by Trevor Nunn

Sporting a shock of white hair and a generous white beard, he looked more like Gandalf than the smiling, clean-shaven man on the front cover of my program.

That is, if Gandalf was fond of wearing turquoise dress shirts with MacBeth tartan ties.

"King Lear" at the where? With WHO?

"Today at 10am on Minnesota Public Radio, an interview with Sir Ian McKellen."

The words cut through the grey, mind-fog of my morning drive. The Guthrie Theater was playing host to the RSC (Royal Shakespeare Company) for two productions, "King Lear" and "The Seagull" -- both starring Sir Ian McKellen. Also appearing in "King Lear" was Slyvester McCoy of "Doctor Who" fame. This was too good.

I called Avindair.

"We have to go," he said. "See if you can get tickets."

Ha!

Here There Be Scalpers

When I got to work, my first stop was the Guthrie Theater website. I was determined to get a ticket... ANY ticket... to see the show.

ANY ticket didn't seem to be within my budget. "King Lear"... according to the Guthrie... was sold out. However, "ticket agencies" aka "scalpers", had plenty. At the gut-wrenching rate of $400-$700 a seat.

Um. No.

Disappointment set in.

I went back to the Guthrie website, ready to drown my sorrows in a little theater-lover's web-based pity party, when I found the next best thing. Sir Ian would be speaking as part of the Global Voices forum. I called. I could still get two tickets -- in the second row.

Oh, yes. They would be MINE.

No, hon. It's just me and Dad.

Alex's face fell. I was a bad, bad Mom.

"Oh. I thought we were all going. But, that's okay. I understand."

Ouch.

He was still smiling, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

Our kids are almost as big theater and film buffs as Avindair and I are. And I would have loved to have taken them. How often does a chance like this roll around in the Twin Cities? Much less often than you would think.

For years we've had just-out-of-reach plans to visit England with the kids. We've told them tales of London, the theater, the history. Promised them the chance to meet their English relatives. But time, work or money has always stepped in the way. Seeing the RSC in Minneapolis would have been a taste of what-will-be-one-day, but it wouldn't be this time.

Worth Every Cent

The tickets for Global Voices weren't cheap, but they also didn't break the bank.

And it was worth it. Oh, was it worth it.

Avindair picked me up from work around 430pm. His eyes were dark and moody.

"Bad day?" I asked?

"Ugh," he grunted. "I don't even know if I want to go to this thing tonight. I just want to go home and relax. I'd like to see him, but I'm just feeling so damn grumpy now."

The only reason he didn't send MonkeyDude in his stead was for safety. Downtown Minneapolis streets aren't the safest at night. He didn't want MonkeyDude and I playing parking ramp Russian Roulette for the sake of some cool theater tickets.

The new Guthrie is... interesting. Parking is conveniently located across the street. (Getting out of there is NOT convenient.) I'm not a big fan of the overall architecture, but I'm a bit of a traditionalist. From my theater background, however, I could appreciate the design behind the Wurtele stage, where we'd see Sir Ian. The seats were a bit cramped, but there was great versatility for lighting, respectable accoustics, and a beautiful thrust stage.

Since we had to go early to grab our tickets, we decided to grab a quick bite at one of the Guthrie's three restaurants before the show. Trying to stay light, we each chose a soup and salad. A little pricey (what isn't, downtown?), but quite good -- and fast. By the time we'd finished our soup, Avindair was finally relaxing from his day, and glad that he'd come along.

Once we got into the theater, we found ourselves wedged between two interesting people. I sat next to an odd fellow, who I later discovered rode a fine line between theater afficianado and weird, crazy fan guy. The entire two hours, he sat scribbling in a notebook in a a script I could only assume was short hand. Previous pages contained what I thought at first might be scientific notation, but on repeated glances, seemed to be some kind of code. I won't go into his personal hygiene. Yeesh. Next to Avindair was a friendly older lady who regaled us with a few stories of her years as a freelance marketing writer. At least we had something in common!

ENOUGH with the Exposition!

So? What about Ian McKellen?

In short, he was a delight: charming, funny, modist and at times, self-effacing. Sir Tyrone Guthrie, founder of the Guthrie Theater, had been a prominent influence in the beginning of McKellen's career. He spoke of directors and actors he'd worked with, his thoughts on acting and Shakespeare, shared stories... it was fantastic. During the question period, he was gracious, patient, and throrough in his answers.


McKellen in "Coriolanus", 1963 - Directed by Tyrone Guthrie

Although the audience seemed almost embarrassed to touch on McKellen's more mainstream roles, like Gandalf and Magneto, there was one very memorable moment in the evening.

He mentioned that when preparing for a role, he likes to know where a character would keep his money. Does he have pockets? A wallet? Does he use cash?

Someone asked, "Where would Magneto keep his money?"

"I imagine with his powers he'd simply put it wherever he wanted to," McKellen replied, making the Magneto hand gesture as if levitating metal coins. "But what I would like to know," he continued, smiling, "is where Mystique keeps hers?"

I'm sure there were many in the audience, who, like ourselves, hadn't been able to get tickets to "King Lear" or "The Seagull". Sir Ian saved the best for last. He treated us to a soliloquy from "Sir Thomas More" by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood, Anthony Munday & William Shakespeare. This particular passage was known to have been written by Shakespeare himself, as the British Museum has the original text in his handwriting. The piece was as relevant today as it was in Shakespeare's time. Here's a bit of it that I could find online.

Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise
Hath chid down all the majesty of England.
Imagine that you see the wretched strangers,
Their babies at their backs and their poor luggage,
Plodding to the ports and coasts for transportation,
And that you sit as kings in your desires,
Authority quite silent by your brawl,
And you in ruff of your opinions clothed;
What had you got? I’ll tell you: you had taught
How insolence and strong hand should prevail.

Sir Thomas More, Act 2 Scene 4

And yes, there was a standing ovation.


*Images from www.mckellen.com.

RAWR!

You know why the tiger is snuggling the pig? Because she has a full tummy and she's keeping it as a snack for later. I mean, come on. Just LOOK at that pig's face!

Your Score: Wuzzy Fuzzy

You scored 54%Randomness, 81 % Fuzziness!

Your lovableness sickens me. It SICKENS me. You snuggle puppies, sniff babies, and have the world's dorkiest grin. People love you...and snicker behind your back.

But you don't care. After all...awww, lookit the cute tiger snuggling piggies!!! Awwwwwwwww.

Your attention span? WHAT attention span?

Link: The How Fuzzy Is Your Soul Test written by Chel-Hell on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Ganked from MagicMarmot.

Do you LIVE here?

This morning I plugged in to the Star Tribune online, as I do most days, to read all the news that unfit to print. (Plus, I think buying the paper paper is a waste of money, ink, and trees when I can get it online.) I came across an article, linked to from the front page Local section, "Wisconsin geek convention will draw hundreds to Madison".

Wow. No kidding.

The article goes on to describe that 600 self-described "geeks" will gather and do geeky things. How avant garde!

When in the Star Tribune's own back yard, one of the largest "geek" cons in the U.S., CONvergence will be celebrating ten years in 2008. Not only that, registrations for 2007 were 2,665 -- outweighing the Wisconsin con by more than 2000. I've never seen anything like THAT in the Star Tribune.

Nothing against the Wisconsin con. Good for them. When two or more geeks shall gather together, there is wondrous geeky fun. It just kills me that our crack local journalists couldn't write up and promote an event that's four times bigger RIGHT HERE!

Real Beauty

I'm not sure if this is new or not, but I love Dove's Real Beauty campaign. As a woman and the mother of a 10-year-old daughter, the imagery in this really hits home.



Ganked from Tony.

Sick at Heart

It's official. Bush has vetoed the child health care bill raising it by an additional $35 billion over 5 years. That bastard. It was getting too close to that phrase that strikes fear into the hearts of Republicans - socialized medicine.

Of course, it's perfectly okay to tell congress he needs an additional $150 billion in 2008 for the "War on Terror".

Over four times as much spent on killing people in other countries, rather than healing our own.

We have a fucking sick country... and I'm not talking about disease.

Speaking of sick. If you haven't seen Michael Moore's SICKO yet, please, PLEASE do.

One quote from the film continues to stick with me from the British... and I continually forget this gentleman's name and position in government. But he was explaining why the Brits moved to socialized medicine after World War II, when their country's economy was in shambles. To paraphrase, "If we had enough money to kill people, we had enough to heal them."

Amen to that. Come on, America. Put your money where your oh-so-Christian-ideals should be - helping people instead of harming them.

Don't Wait

My mother called this morning to let me know about the death of a friend of the family. We knew it was coming. He'd been ill for a long time. Hospice had been caring for him in his home. His family had been gathering.

Still, it hit me harder than I'd thought it would.

Dad knew Jerry through work. Our families had been very close when I was younger. They had two boys around my age. Our moms were on the same bowling team. We went tent camping, canoeing, and to the shooting range for target practice. We got together for dinners, birthday celebrations and holidays. Listened to Fleetwood Mac. Drank my first beer, Pabst Blue Ribbon, in their back yard. The boys and I used to go to movies and out roller skating. Jerry, himself, was friendly, cheerful, robust, and big-hearted. For awhile, at least, they were really like a second family to me.

Then we all drifted apart, as people sometimes do.

My parents and theirs didn't get together any more. The boys, like me, grew up, got married and had families of their own. I hadn't seen them in years, much less talked to them. Perhaps the occasional Christmas card, but that was all.

Then I heard that Jerry was ill. Dad started seeing Jerry again, when he was in town. I knew that he was getting worse. I kept thinking, "I should call. I should write. I should do... something." But I never did. I never told them that I was thinking of them. And now, all I can do, is send flowers and a card. Heartfelt, but too little, too late. And nothing can ever change that.

I'm not writing this to feel sorry for myself. Just a reminder that if someone in your life has meant something to you -- a friend, a mentor, a relative... even an acquaintance -- tell them. Don't let it wait.

Friday Silliness

So... did it get me right?

Your Personality is Very Rare (INTP)

Your personality type is goofy, imaginative, relaxed, and brilliant. Only about 4% of all people have your personality, including 2% of all women and 6% of all men You are Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, and Perceiving.

How Rare Is Your Personality?

Go Bohemian for only $2,000

Women's fashion has problems.

Since I turned 40, I began subscribing to the online newsletter from MORE magazine. It has some valid information for the 40-something and MORE crowd. Today's included this headline: 30 Best Jeans for Women.

As part of this feature article, there were 30 styles of jeans, some shown as part of an ensemble. Each complete outfit was no less than $2000.

What. The. Hell?



Shay Peretz
By Lois Joy Johnson
Jeans for the Bohemian
"I'm all about vintage-look funky jeans. Finding a style that fits my waist and my derriere is always the challenge."
-- Beth Kristiansen, 43, aesthetician

Beat-up hippie flares with an artsy soul are reincarnated as brand-new fades with a curve-accommodating fit that true vintage lacks. They're great with this year's floaty tunics and wedges. Kristiansen is wearing True Religion "Joey" style ($253) with contour seaming that slims the legs. Max & Co. silk tunic ($198). Kate Spade shoes ($325). Henry Beguelin bag ($1,325).

********

Don't forget the $300 color and perm, the $150 manicure and pedicure, and the $100 make-up.

But WHATEVER you do, don't use that Henry Beguelin bag in the spring. It will be SO LAST YEAR!

I don't know what's worse. The people who make and price this stuff. The magazines that push the stuff. Or the women who think they have to have this stuff.

Cripes.

Beware of Aging

My cell phone buzzed against my desktop.

"Oh, no," I thought. It was probably a school nurse. Seasonal colds and flus were making the rounds.

I answered, expecting to have to make my excuses to my boss, grab my keys, and go.

It was my Mom. Mom calling my cell phone in the middle of the work day couldn't possibly be good.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, honey. Nothing's wrong. Everything is just fine. We're okay."

Her voice didn't sound like everything was okay.

Mom is a 24/7 live-in caretaker for my grandmother -- her elderly mother. For years she's done everything for her and her home with the tenderest of care and attention to every detail for years... often to the detriment of her own health, well-being, and general sanity. The woman hasn't had more than a handful of 8-hour sleep sessions in all that time. Waiting on my grandmother, attending her every need, night and day, day in and day out. A short time ago, to the relief of the rest of the family, she decided that she simply couldn't do it any more and put Grandma on the waiting list for a nursing home.

Monday they called and said they had a room open -- for Wednesday.

Mom's voice was a heart-breaking combination of relief, guilt, fear, loss, excitement...

My grandmother needs complete care. She needs help to eat, to stand up, to sit down, to go to the bathroom, to get dressed, to get in and out of bed, to walk from place to place... everything. The intelligent, strong-willed, opinionated, sometimes infuriating, but always supportive woman I knew is trapped inside this elderly shell of weakness, pain, and confusion. It's no longer safe for her to live in her home she loves so much. It's no longer possible for my mother to give her the care she needs.

Then there's the financial question. The home my grandmother will be going into, for the full care she needs, will cost almost $6000 per month. That's above and beyond the cost of all of the medication she needs on a monthly basis. The nursing home insurance she and my grandfather paid for most of their working lives, only shells out about $2500 per month. Medicare pays nothing. Leaving my grandmother's assets, investments, cashed in life insurance policies... and possibly even, her home... to take care of the balance. Eventually, if she stays in the nursing home, virtually any inheritance... any assets that would have gone to my mother, will have to be liquidated to pay the nursing home. Of course, if she had no assets, she'd pay far less and get the same care.

My mother is trying to think of alternatives. There are no other family members to help. Mom's brother died years ago. She's considering taking in renters at my grandmother's house. At 63, she'd like to finally start enjoying her life a little, travel, see her grandkids... but she may have to consider taking a job. But the kind of jobs open for women like my mom in the town she lives in will net her maybe $8 / hour after taxes... tops. I can't offer any help, with two kids and a mortgage, and living 300 miles away.

I just get angry at the lack of help for caretakers of the elderly. Little to non-existant breaks, compensation, support, information, legal help, finanacial advice... just a bunch of vultures waiting to rip of their piece of the carcass.

Sorry for the downer of a post. It's been on my mind all day.

AVAST, me hearties!

It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day! Pour a pint of grog and party like it's 1799!

You are The Quartermaster

You, me hearty, are a man or woman of action! And what action it is! Gruesome, awful, delightful action. You mete out punishment to friend and foe alike – well, mostly to foe, because your burning inner rage isn’t likely to draw you a whole lot of the former. Still, though you may be what today is called “high maintenance” and in the past was called “bat-shit crazy,” the crew likes to have you around because in a pinch your maniacal combat prowess may be the only thing that saves them from Jack Ketch. When not in a pinch, the rest of the crew will goad you into berserker mode because it’s just kind of fun to watch. So you provide a double service – doling out discipline AND entertainment.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

It Couldn't Have Happened to a Nicer Guy

When the Nerd Clan moved to the Twin Cities way back in October of 1998, things weren't looking so good for the home team.

Due to the Red River Valley flood of '97, I was going to be losing my great job as Computer Department Manager of the UND Bookstore. The university needed to find ways to save money to pay for the damages the flood wrought and a way to attract students back to the ravaged campus. They ended up leasing the bookstore business to Barnes & Noble... and B&N was not in the business of selling computers.

Avindair was working a crappy job for an insane boss (you should hear the stories), having to drive 150 miles round trip every day from Grand Forks to Fargo, traveling to other cities for a week at a time at the drop of a hat, and having paychecks that bounced.

With no career prospects in Grand Forks, we had to look elsewhere. Elsewhere had to be the nearest metro area... Minneapolis/St.Paul.

Marathon to the Twin Cities #1

I found a job all right. In one day I drove 5 hours to the cities, spent two hours interviewing, and drove 5 hours back. They offered me the job of regional inside sales rep at a company that made multiport serial cards. It was set up as a pay + commission structure. Not a dream job, I'll admit, but it was enough to help support our family in a new city. They knew I'd have to relocate and were all smiley-supporty.

Marathon to the Twin cities #2

In between job offer and moving, Avindair and I took an overnight trip to the cities to find an apartment. We took the first place we could find as close as possible to my work, since Tony didn't have a job yet, that wasn't a scary (is that a heroine dealer?) rat trap that we could also afford. Paid the *yowch* first month's rent, stayed one night with local relatives (the first of three times we'd see them in the 9 years we've lived here), and once again headed back to Grand Forks.

Marathon to the Twin Cities #3

Did you know that it's possible to break down an entire apartment for 4 people, pack it on a truck, drive to another city, unpack it, set up the new apartment, and drive back to the original city in 48 hours? With the help of two of our best friends, DaveGuy and Bella, we did... bless their hearts.

Halloween 1998

The night before we left for our new home. For good. Our son, who was only 6 at the time, was enjoying Halloween at Grandma's house. Due to our neverending search for good jobs, he was being uprooted once again. It broke our hearts. We were having to move just a few months into first grade. Avindair and I dreaded it for him. In his six short years we'd already moved five times - six if you count the two places in Denver. He would once again have a new home, a new school, a new daycare, new teachers, new friends, new places to play... with our little family and the contents of our apartment the only things that were a constant in his life.

Our daughter had it a little easier. She would be turning 2 in just two weeks and didn't have the level of adapting to go through that our son did.

"Hi, I'm the new rep."

The first week in November I started my new job. And to tell you the truth, it suck-diddly-ucked, Flanders.

First, my sales manager and I were the only females on the sales team. Good Old Boys Club in the extreme. It didn't matter if I'd been a sales manager in my own right, I was treated like "just a girl".

Second, nearly all of the sales reps had been FRIENDS SINCE GRADE SCHOOL. Yup. Even in a city this size, they had grown up together, gone to college together, and were now working at the same company -- and they acted like it. Not only was I not in the boys club, I also was a charter member of the "You're Not From Around Here" club.

Third, after several weeks, after uprooting my family, incurring the expense of moving, having rent and utilities and car payments and daycare to pay, and in the midst of holiday season with kids, I eagerly awaited my first paycheck. Payday came and went. And I had no paycheck. I confronted my boss. "Didn't we tell you? We pay a month behind, after you've completed your first month. So you don't get your first paycheck until January. But if you want, we can give you an advance."

WHAT THE HELL?

So, to stay out of bad debt with our monthly bills, I had to go into debt with my new employer. A debt that I then had to make payments on with every future paycheck for nearly a year.

Fourth. Every month we'd gather for an all employee meeting. The owner would usually fly up from Florida, where he lived part of the time, and address the troops. I'd already heard from other employees that he kept the Florida address to avoid Minnesota taxes and that he was a bit... eccentric. What I heard at my first employee meeting made my jaw drop. After everything my family and I had been through to be there, at that point in time, I was infuriated. Here's what the speech from the company's owner boiled down to:

1. God was to be thanked for everything we had and the all of the successes of our company.
2. The owner had the position he had in life, because God put him there. He was appointed to be sucessful by God.
3. We all, as workers, had the position we had below him in life, because God meant for us to be there... below him.
4. God had made it clear that he (the owner) was better than us.

Oh, yeah. THAT'S the way to motivate your employees.

My family and I had worked hard to be where we were. Life had thrown us a lot of curve balls and we did our damndest to keep our heads (literally) above water and persevere. I was supposed to believe that some white-bearded father-figure on a cloud had handpicked me to be the bitch-slapped worker bee for life and handpicked some narcissistic looney to reign supreme... just because?

Um... no.

Eventually, of course, I got out of there. I got away from the insane, zealot, tax-dodging owner and his nepotism-ridden company.

And My Point Is?

Just the other day, I saw this article in the Star Tribune.

"With founder a fugitive, Comtrol remakes itself"
http://www.startribune.com/535/story/1382004.html

Apparently, God doesn't want him paying taxes. This CEO-on-the-lam was also a republican, a former delegate the Repulican National Convention, AND the founder of the Minnesota Christian Coalition.

http://www.dailykos.com/story/2006/8/16/104246/586

Or read this goodie from the US Department of Justice:

http://www.usdoj.gov/usao/mn/press/econ/econ0140.pdf

The articles just get more and more fun:

http://blog.au.org/2006/08/18/taxing_situatio/

Finding this news just made me feel warm and fuzzy all day. This nepotistic businessman, leading republican supporter, right-wing Christian zealot, law breaking nutzoid was on the run from finally getting what was REALLY due him.

Huh. Maybe there IS a God?

Star Trek Meets Monty Python

Ducks and Bunnies

I can tell I've been in too many meetings today with management types. I'm over explaining to everyone I meet. You know how it is with management, all of the authority and none of the understanding of technology. Duck and bunnie charts.

Mgr: "I need a pencil and paper."
IT: "A pencil and paper are already in the requirements. You'll have the pencil and paper, just as you asked."
Mgr: "But the requirements don't say that I can write on the paper with the pencil. Will I be able to write on the paper?"
IT: "Of course, you will."
Mgr: "But how do I know that?"
IT: "Because that's the basic function of pencil and paper."
Mgr: "But I don't see anything that says I can write on the paper with the pencil. What if I get the pencil and paper and the pencil doesn't write on the paper?"
IT: "That won't happen."
Mgr: "Why?"
IT: "Because the basic function of pencil and paper is for the pencil to write on the paper. It's intrinsic to having pencil and paper."
Mgr: "But how can I be sure of that?"

Yup. This is the point when you just bonk said manager-type on the head, lock him / her in a closet, and only let him / her out when the application has launched. Then they can say:

Mgr: "Where's my pencil and paper?"
IT: "It's right there. On your desk."
Mgr: "But it doesn't LOOK like my old pencil and paper."
IT: "No, it doesn't. But it works the same way."
Mgr: "How do I know that it works that same?"
IT: "Because all pencils and papers have the same function."
Mgr: "But that pencil is blue. My pencil was yellow."
IT: "Yes, but it writes in exactly the same color as before."
Mgr: "No it can't. It's a different color."
IT: "But it writes the same way as before."
Mgr: "No it doesn't."
IT: "Yes it does. How do you know it doesn't? Have you tried it?"
Mgr: "No."
IT: "Then how do you know it doesn't do the same thing as before?"
Mgr: "It looks different."

Ah.... nothin' like the Peter Principle.

Phone Woes

Today started out pretty darn well. Last night I slept better than I had in days. I dreamt all night. Good dreams, too. The kind that leave you with a lingering warm fuzzy all morning. My commute to work met no delays or nasty drivers. Even my hair cooperated and looked good.

I drove up to my workplace. Got a nice parking spot. Remembered my access card to get in. Put my lunch in the fridge. Got my morning cup of coffee. Didn't spill any on my white pants. Booted up my computer. Plugged in my cell phone to charge.

And noticed that I'd missed a call. Only a few minutes earlier. From my dad?

How had I missed a call when I'd been holding the phone in my hand?

Instead of dialing up my messages, I called Dad direct. My grandmother had been recovering from illness and injury. There may have been a change in her condition that I needed to know about.

Nope. It turns out that my dad had been trying to call me since LAST NIGHT. My mother had been taken to the emergency room. She was home and recovering now, but he'd be trying to reach me for hours. He tried my home phone, but it went straight to voice mail. Never rang at the house. He tried my cell phone. No answer. Went to voice mail.

In addition, Avindair's dad is in surgery today. The phone (if it was working) could ring at any time for news of his progress. Our kids are at home, can't call them to check on them. This is ridiculous.

Ever since we switched to Comcrap VOIP we've had problems. And complained. And complained. This was the last straw. After Avindair bitched them out thoroughly, they finally agreed to give us 2 days credit on our bill. (My, how generous.) The phone service still isn't working right.

Bottom line. We're shutting off Comcrap phone service. We're shutting off Comcrap cable. And if we can find a comparable speed Internet service, we're going to shut off Comcrap cable modem, too. Not one more dime to these corporate vultures.

Unfortunately, the area where we live seems to be a black hole of phone service. The ONLY land line service we can get is Spront... and it's crap, too. Just less craptacular than Comcrap. Yes, we sometimes have to dial 5 or 6 times to get a line out, but at least we CAN EVENTUALLY get a line out... and in. I guess we have to choose between bad or worse service - AND get to pay a premium for it. WHEE!

Go cellular, you say? A few problems with that. First, 911 service. We have kids. I want to be able to pick up a phone on the wall and dial 911 if needed, not run around looking for my cell. Plus, the towers in our area are notoriously bad. Often my cell phone won't ring, or it goes straight to voice mail, OR... and I love this one... I won't get a notified of a message until HOURS or even DAYS after it's been left for me. Not so good if the school calls, or my son or daughter call needing a ride, or... any number of possible emergency scenarios. After all, THAT'S why I have the damn phones in the first place.

And to make matters worse, this phone service crap screwed up what was shaping up to be a really nice day. F**K!

Turn on the News

Our little Nerd clan had gathered in front of the TV for dinner. "The Simpsons" was cheerily chattering in front of us. We laughed together eating slightly charred, grilled hot dogs and chips. Life was good.

Then the phone rang.

"Turn on the news."

It was our good friend, Garrett.

"Hey! What's up?" I laughed. "What news channel?"

His voice came back dark and strained. "Any news channel."

There were no other words to describe what we saw.

Last night, just after 6:00pm CST, during rush hour traffic, the I-35W bridge over the Mississippi River in Minneapolis collapsed, spilling as many as 50 cars into the rushing waters. There was heart breaking tragedy. There were heart wrenching miracles. Heroes came from all walks of life and gave of themselves to save others, or comfort those in their last moments.

We were told to keep cell phone lines clear. Land lines were hit or miss with people calling in and out of the cities. When I finally reached my mother, she was nearly hysterical with fear. I could understand why. A few years ago she lost her father and her only brother, her mother was ailing, and the thought of losing her only child, son-in-law and grandkids was almost too much for her. I made the round of calls to the rest of our Twin Cities relatives and called her back to calm her.

As darkness fell last night, the rescue operation turned to one of recovery. Twisted and unstable wreckage along with a strong current made it too dangerous for rescuers to continue searching the submerged vehicles. Twenty to thirty families across the cities wait for word on their loved ones. My thoughts keep turning to them. I can't imagine your pain, but I pray for you. Right now, it's all I can do.

Hailing Frequencies Open, Captain

Snagged from Anomalous Data.

Your results:
You are Uhura

You are a good communicator with a pleasant soft-spoken voice. Also a talented singer.



Uhura - 65%
Will Riker - 60%
Mr. Sulu - 60%
Deanna Troi - 60%
Beverly Crusher - 55%
Worf - 50%
Jean-Luc Picard - 45%
Geordi LaForge - 40%
James T. Kirk (Captain) - 40%
An Expendable Character (Redshirt) - 40%
Spock - 32%
Chekov - 30%
Mr. Scott - 30%
Leonard McCoy (Bones) - 25%
Data - 15%


Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Test

Size Does NOT Make A Difference

Get your mind out of the gutter!

I'm talking about clothing size. Sheesh!

I was doing laundry last night. As I folded some old tshirts - 10-year old tshirts - I glanced at the size label. They were marked L (Large). No surprise. Being, um, *blessed* in womanly curves, even if I weighed less, I simply don't have the body type to wear a Small.

Here's the thing. Those particular old tshirts are huge on me... always have been. I haven't changed that much in 10 years. However, yesterday I went to the very same store, bought the very same brand tshirt, and had to buy an XXL in the Women's department -- not Misses.

The brand new XXL (Extra Extra Large) is form-fitting on me. The 10-year-old L (Large) is huge on me. I held them up together. The XXL is less than 3/4 the width of the L.

If there's any proof of the fashion industry sizing-down clothing, this would be it.

Next year, I'm looking forward to trying out the new Giganta-size baby tees.

In Honor of CONvergence 2007

This weekend, Science Fiction and Fantasy fans will gather for the geek Bacchanalia lovingly known as CONvergence. If you have one nerdly bone in your body, come and join in the fun. This is one of the best run conventions in the country.

• Great discussion panels run at all hours.
  
• Guests of Honor mingle with convention goers. (Ever had a drink with Gowron?)
  
• Two 24-hour movie rooms - 1 anime, 1 everthing else (with free snacks).
  
• BIG dealer room - everything from shiney, sharp steel to well, everything else fandom related.
  
• GAMING - all varieties
  
• Themed room parties
  
• If it's Science Fiction-y or Fantasy, you'll find it here.

There are kid-friendly things, and Avindair and I bring our kids for part of the day, but the evenings belong to drinking, partying geekdom. In honor of the fun to come, please enjoy "The Philosopher's Drinking Song" from Monty Python!

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable.

Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table.

David Hume could out-consume
Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, [some versions have 'Schopenhauer and Hegel']

And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.

There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.

John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.

Plato, they say, could stick it away--
Half a crate of whisky every day.

Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle.
Hobbes was fond of his dram,

And René Descartes was a drunken fart.
'I drink, therefore I am.'

Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker,
But a bugger when he's pissed.

TAGGED: 8 Things About Me...

CubeZoo has tagged me to reveal 8 random things about myself.

THE RULES

1. All right, here are the rules.
2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
4. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

8 Things About Me:


1. I lived in Germany for three years.

2. I'd rather live in Europe than in the U.S.

3. I played viola for 10 years.

4. I've been married for 20 years. Half my life and loving every day of it!

5. I have a degree in English, but almost decided to get a degree in Vocal Performance.

6. I'd love to refresh my French language skills.

7. I'd love to spend my life traveling the world.

8. I'm maddeningly eclectic.


Taggy-taggy-tag... You're IT! Anomalous Data, Saveau, MagicMarmot, MadBlonde, Illiante, Conrad Zero, ForeignHotel, and Miss Molly Grue.

Color Me Wow

Trying to find the words. Mostly, when I think about last night, I just shake my head in stunned, wide-eyed silence... in a good way.

Last night was the big screen premiere of "Pray for Daylight" at the Riverview Theater in Minneapolis. Our first feature length movie, filmed in the fall of 2005, was finally getting a real debut. It was planned mostly as a big "thank you" to all of the cast and crew that graciously volunteered their time and talents, and the location owners who allowed us to invade their space for a few intense hours.

Then it grew. We decided to open up the free showing to the general public. We set ourselves up with a publicist. We duplicated DVDs, had a big movie poster made and alerted the media.

If you screen it, they will come.

After just 2 weeks of here and there promoting, 80 - 100 people were in attendance... and not just cast and crew. Family, friends, neighbors, co-workers -- and people who had no prior affiliation with our little vampire movie -- showed up.

And I think they had fun!

Before the show started, Tony got up and said a few words. One of the most important things he did was to give people permission to have an opinion and VOICE it. It sounds like a given, but it isn't. People have a tendency, when asked about someone else's creative efforts, to politely smile and nod -- even if they hated it. He asked them to be involved; express whether they liked something or not - in the moment - and I think that paid off.

As for the movie itself. Wow. Everyone who worked on it is painfully aware of all of the movie's problems. But I have to say this: it looked better, played better, sounded better and all-around *was* better than I had ever imagined it would. Sure, it has its warts. Sure there are things we would have like to have done differently or done better. But "Pray for Daylight" is now complete. If we entertained a few people for little while - brought them a few minutes of escape from day to day life - it's all worth it.

Thank you to everyone who came to the premiere and made it such a special event.
Thank you to the guys of Jagged Spiral: Conrad, Colin and Josh. "Pray for Daylight" is a melodrama - and your music brought new depth to each and every scene. (www.jaggedspiral.com)
Thank you to Sasha for Syiera's dangerous beauty and grace. With no training you made difficult martial arts moves look easy... and better than those of us *with* training. (Dammit!)
Thank you to Robin for vibrantly breathing life and vitality into our big, bad! (Oh, and thanks for getting shot, too!)
Thank you to Rob for making the movie look so "pretty" (MORE MAGENTA! MORE CHINA BALLS!) and sound so good (ADR RULES!)
Thank you to Rick for creating the vision of Eric Saveau and Cassie Banning that we've all come to love, and for bringing an earnest and believable Saveau to life.
Thank you to Teresa for fantastic fight sequences and putting the "kick" in Cassie's "ass".
Thank you to Trey for your skills as an actor, insights, humor and for sitting in a chair for three days with a nasty polyester gag in your mouth. (SPOILER ALERT)
Thank you to EVERYONE - cast, crew, generous location owners... and the families / friends who put up with our cast and crew being involved!

Most of all, thank you to Tony, our fearless leader, for being the driving force behind Stone Soup. Nothing would have happened without you.

What's next for Stone Soup? There are ideas in the works. Nothing to announce quite yet. But one thing's for certain. Stone Soup films will be back.

Angel and Wesley Dance

Needed a giggle this morning.

The Ghost That Typed

The Life of a Corporate Contract Writer

Every day we’re surrounded by words. Most of the time, people don’t even think about it. Not just books and newspapers. Who writes what you see on your cereal box in the morning? The information on your shampoo bottle? The message on your fast food drive-thru bag? Weekly sale ads in the Sunday paper? Product information at your favorite online stores?

Then go a step further. Who writes your company’s newsletters and Intranet? The instructions you go to for submitting your timecard? The information for your medical insurance? Behind everything is a writer…

…or at least there should be. Frankly, if you’ve ever been confused by what you’ve read, the company was probably too cheap to hire a professional. How a company presents itself through written communications makes an impression; the right words have impact. As with anything, you get what you pay for; and experienced, professional writers, are often far undervalued.

MARCH 2002

“Welcome to the team! We couldn’t do it without you!”

I set the insert card on the table next to a vase filled with 2-dozen spring tulips. The sudden shift from I-really-need-a-job data entry back to being a Web and marketing writer had been dizzying. Not only were my real skills finally being dusted off after one year post-layoff, but I was appreciated, too. Pretty heady stuff.

What followed was four intense years of being the sole writer for one of the largest, most successful and critically-lauded school fundraising programs in the nation, run by one of the world’s largest food companies. I was brought on to bring the communications for their program both consistency and style. Yes, I was a contractor, but I was part of the team. My opinion was valued. My ideas were used and were successful for both the program and the K-8 schools it served.

For four years, every month I wrote and edited eight to twelve articles, three emails, multiple ads, and much more. There were four quarterly newsletters, each with two versions. There were printed materials, flyers, letters, notifications, and special events. I created earning ideas, contests, and gave advice. I constantly monitored the forums where school volunteers voiced their problems and concerns so my writing could be relevant to their unique needs. I wrote all of the copy through four yearly website overhauls for two websites… plus two more. I worked days, nights and weekends to meet their needs. For four years I ate, drank and slept this program.

AUGUST 2006

“As of the October website updates, your services will no longer be needed. This is no reflection on your abilities as a writer. Due to budget constraints we will now be doing the writing in-house.”

The brief, impersonal Dear Jane email that ended my contract was a direct hit. Even today I feel it like a physical punch to the gut. Not a personal call. Not a meeting. Four years and I was summarily dismissed. The email didn’t even come from the head of the program, but from another contractor.

Four years of carefully crafting their entire message, branding and image through words – without so much as a goodbye lunch.

I could go into the evolution of the “team”, the corporate politics, lying and thoroughly unethical business behavior behind it all, but that’s not the point of my posting today.

I’ve moved on for the most part. I have a good regular job right now, with a good company, and a great boss. It’s steady, pays the bills, provides my family with medical insurance and keeps a roof over our heads. I still accept the occasional freelance writing job for other areas of the fundraising program when they ask. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, the “in-house” writers provided by the other contractor haven’t worked out very well – they’ve been through several in just a few months – so much for consistency.

This wasn't my only client. Just the most startling example of just how disposable and invisible contractors -- in any profession -- have become. We're expected to show up, solve the company's problems with no tangible recognition or benefits other than a paycheck, and leave. A temporary employee that you don’t have to provide benefits for, that you don’t have to keep happy or give incentives to, who’s an expert in their field, that you can let go when the project is done AND get recognition for their work? For businesses, what’s not to like?

My point is that all the work I took such pride in… the effect it had on tens of thousands of schools across the nation and millions of kids… the fact that the words I crafted made an impression on millions of people and really did make a difference… no one… not one of those people… will ever know that it was me behind it. Corporate contract writers don’t get a by-line. My portfolio and resume will never fully demonstrate to a future employer the dedication I had for my work.

I’m just one of many nameless, faceless writers whose words and work are taken for granted.

I’m just the ghost that typed.

My Spidey Sense is Tingling

Don't ask why. The Spiderman theme song was running through my head this morning. I had to go find the lyrics to help with the sections I was singing "la, la, la" to instead of the real words.

I share them with you, gentle reader...

Spiderman, Spiderman,
Does whatever a spider can.
Spins a web, any size,
Catches thieves just like flies.
Look out! Here comes the Spiderman.

Is he strong? Listen bud—
He's got radioactive blood.
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look overhead.
Hey there! There goes the Spiderman.

In the chill of the night,
At the scene of the crime,
Like a streak of light,
He arrives just in time!

Spiderman, Spiderman,
Friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
Wealth and fame, he's ignored—
Action is his reward.

To him,
Life is a great big bang-up—
Wherever there's a hang-up,
You'll find the Spiderman!

Peel the Grapes, Slave!

You are Cleopatra Beautiful and Charming. You are able to persuade anyone to do anything you would like, because of your hotness and charisma. You are an expert in gaining power over anyone you choose. Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

D20 or Percentiles?

Your SaniTest(TM) Results

Your score is: 123

For easier understanding, the HPLHS SaniTest assessment algorithm converts your raw score to a scale of 1 to 10. This number is your INSANITY INDEX.

INSANITY INDEX 6.73 Thank you for taking the SaniTest(TM). Your score indicates that you are totally unhinged. It seems likely that the rational parts of your mind are completely separated both from your emotions, and from all practical views of reality. You should beware of overreacting to situations, and you might want to get a few opinions before investing in real estate. Others who scored at this level include mime sensations Shields & Yarnell and serial killer Ted Bundy.

How Insane Are You?

New 7 Wonders of the World

Yes. You read that right.

Want to help choose the new 7 wonders of the world? Log on to www.new7wonders.com, register and place your vote! The top picks will be announced 7/7/07 in Lisbon, Portugal.

What's that? No! I'm not telling you who I voted for! Go out and vote for yourself!

Ticketslaves

A couple of years ago we took the kids to a Weird Al Yankovic concert in Minneapolis. I've seen a lot of great performers in my time, but rarely someone with such talent and energy. Plus, it was kid-friendly. A great time was had by all.

This year Weird Al will be playing the Minnesota State Fair Grandstand, as he has several times in years past. Tickets to see him are $20 each and the seating is still fairly close to the stage. $80 for four people. Not bad, right? Just wait.

Problem #1: The tickets are through the great-grand daddy bastard of entertainment fleecing -- Ticketmaster. (Does that make us Ticketslaves?) Per ticket, add a $2.00 "Facilities Charge" and $5.25 "Convenience Charge" -- $27.25 per person. Ticketmaster raises it from $80 for all four of us to $109.

Problem #2: That doesn't cover the cost to get INTO the fairgrounds - $11 per adult plus $8 for Kate. That tacks on another $41 just to walk through the fairgrounds gate and into the Grandstand. The total now stands at $150.

Problem #3: Fairground parking - $9. That is if we didn't have to use one of the other outrageous parking methods.

Total for four people to attend a Weird Al concert at the Minnesota State Fair?

$159

For what would have been a relatively reasonable concert, the cost has been DOUBLED by fees, entrance charges and parking. Is that sick or what?

In Honor of the Buffy Musical

HEY! The live Buffy Musical (a la Rocky Horror) is coming to Minneapolis June 1 and 2. In its honor, I'm doing some blog silliness.


Which Buffy Girl Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty


Who's Your Inner Buffy Bad-Girl? Find out @ She's Crafty

And just to be fair to the gents...


Which Buffy Guy Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty


Who's Your Inner Buffy Bad-Boy? Find out @ She's Crafty

10k of Cold and Camaraderie

After a balmy and beautiful Saturday, we woke Sunday to a precipitous drop in temperature. I'd seen the weather reports, but it didn't sound that bad. In the mid-50's is what I'd read. Heck, dress in layers with a long-sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt. No problem.

Thus, the morning of the 2007 Minnesota AIDS Walk began.

Avindair, MonkeyDude, SportyGirl and I set out on our adventure. Being a prepared mom-type person, I carried a backpack filled with: granola bars, non-aspirin pain relievers, a small first aid kit, hand sanitizer (cause I knew we'd be in porta-potty land), one compact umbrella (just in case), and the more important contents of my purse. At the last moment, I added a cute little stuffed frog as our mascot. He'd been a gift from my uncle when I was a little girl. Since I was walking in his memory, I thought it only appropriate I bring Froggy along for the ride!

Not being familiar with Minnehaha Park, it took us a little time to negotiate the area and find parking, but since we were early it was blessedly close.

"It's cold," MonkeyBoy observed.

"Uh-huh. That's your Mom's fault," said Avindair.

Eh, I thought. It's early yet. It'll warm up. Right.

Our first stop was the registration building. After verifying the donation in my name I was handed a yellow ticket to pick up my official t-shirt.

"There's been a delay opening the Boutique," my friendly volunteer indicated, meaning the tent where we were to pick up our goodies. "They struck a water main with a tent spike."

No way. We had to see this.

Next to the "Boutique" was a rather lovely fountain, springing forth from the earth, sending rushing water across the walking path. Remember the Beverly Hillbillies? "And up from the ground came-a bubblin' crude." It was like that... but water.

The Starbucks booth had just opened across the sidewalk with free, bitter, hot goodness in a cup. On a day like yesterday, there couldn't have been a more pleasant sight at 9am! The kids wrinkled their noses.

"I don't like coffee," MonkeyDude said through chattering teeth. "I'll be okay."

SportyGirl agreed with her brother with her best "yuch" face.

"Nope. You're having coffee. Both of you. It'll help warm you up," said Avindair.

"Yeah," I offered. "Besides, you can fill it up with cream and sugar. It'll be good."

The girl behind the counter had been watching our exchange. "We have decaf, too, if you don't want the kids to have caffeine."

"Nah," Avindair countered, "give them the regular stuff. It'll be funnier that way."

We wandered a bit more. Nearly everyone we met was cold, determined... and smiling. People helping each other set up, answer questions, or just joining in a friendly, shivering chat.

As nice as that was, we had cold kids and the walk didn't start for another 2 hours. We hoofed a couple of blocks to a local Senior Citizen breakfast joint for coffee, hot chocolate and toast for a bit. After an hour or so, we decided to head back over.

The weather hadn't warmed up and the wind was still blowing, but the park was getting full of walkers. We were very glad we'd decided not to give up our parking spot to go get chow. To pass the time, we wandered some more, filled out an "In Memory Of" placard for Dale to carry with us, joined an impromptu game of frisbee, petted lots of cute dogs, and listened to the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus and the cast of "Menopause: The Musical".

The only other volunteer to join Team Stone Soup this year, Garret, showed up just in time to get his official walk t-shirt and hook up with us to start a-walkin'. THANK YOU, GARRET!

Without waiting for the opening ceremonies to end, we decided to start out, along with bunches of other folks. The brisk pace we set actually warmed us all up, almost as much as the laughter and great conversation along the way. About one mile into the 6.2 miles, the skies opened up on us. Great big drops of rain soaked us through - but my brave Stone Soupers and the rest of the walkers just kept on moving! Volunteers cheered us on from many points along the path... 7 rest stops offered water, bananas, other snacks and porta-pottys.

We hit the finish line back at Minnehaha Park cold, tired, soaking wet and sore... but strangely happy. I can't speak for everyone else, but I had a great time. The kids had far more endurance and good cheer than I thought them capable of under those conditions. Garret was a good sport and a great friend for joining in on our crazy quest. Avindair, my incredible husband, was his wonderful, supportive self.

THANK YOU, to our fantastic TEAM STONE SOUP walkers.

THANK YOU, to our friends and family who, by supporting us, raised $825! So we didn't hit our goal. That's okay. Every bit... every single cent is appreciated by the Minnesota AIDS Project.

We couldn't have done this without any of you. THANK YOU, all.

... and see you next year!

UPDATE - Minnesota AIDS Walk

We're almost there! Sunday, May 20 is only 2 days away and Team Stone Soup is only $300 short of our goal! A big thanks goes out to everyone who's been able to support the cause. No contribution is too small - every bit is appreciated.

If you'd still like to help out or, better yet, come along and join us on Sunday, just follow the links below in my last blog entry.

THANKS EVERYONE!

Minnesota AIDS Walk - May 20, 2007

This is Dale Christopher, my uncle. The world lost Dale on September 27, 1995, just minutes after finishing his 47th birthday. On May 20, 2007, I walk for him in the hopes that what money we raise will make a difference for those who live with AIDS now, and in the hopes that people in the future will never have to live with it again.

To learn more about the Minnesota AIDS Walk, you can visit their website at mnaidswalk.org. If you'd like to support me, please visit my personal page and click the "Make a Gift" link under my progress chart. If you'd like to join Team Stone Soup, just go to the team page, click on "Join a Team" and type in Stone Soup. We'd love to have you walk with us!

Whew!

What's that sticky stuff?

It had been a long day at work. A weary commute home. I looked down to see big white sticker under my shoe. The wind has a nasty habit of depositing leaves and every piece of blowing trash in a three block radius in front of our door.

I reached down, removed the offending sticker, and opened the door. I knew was waiting for me on the other side.

The 2-Day FedEx envelope sat on the floor of our entryway. It leaned casually against the wall in a black beret, smoking a thin, brown cigarette... mocking me. I think I would have rather encountered an axe murderer on the other side of that door.

I considered it carefully. Would it bite? I picked it up by the edge.

Phew. What stinks in here?

The heavy envelope made an audible thud as it hit the kitchen counter. I considered putting a match to it, but thought better of it. What horrors would it hold? Could my heart stand it?

I took a deep breath (yeesh - what is that smell?) ripped the envelope like a giant band-aid. The quicker, the better.

Our 2007 taxes.

Suddenly, I could breathe again.

Our tax guy is worth every, freaking cent.

Good news: we got a return.

Eh news: we're handing it all over to Uncle Sam to cover the taxes I will eventually have to pay on my extra business income next year.

Bad news: I tracked in dog shit on my shoe.

All we have to do are sign the forms, mail them on time, and pay the tax guy for his expertise.

My taxes in 2004 and 2005 were something that even Freddie Kruger couldn't have devised in his wildest ravings. I won't post the totals, but let's just say that April 2005 left me gasping for air to the tune of tens of thousands. I still blanche at the thought of it.

And the worst part, was that he was wrong.

For 2006, I got the tax guy of my dreams (let me know if you want a recommendation). He fixed the previous guy's mistakes to the tune of so much of a return, that it prepaid my quarterly taxes for almost half of the next year. Yowch.

It's funny. But even though I know what the end number of the tax return reads, I still involuntarily shrink from it. It's like being bitten by a big dog. He may look friendly now, but you never trust him again.

Yeah. Like I ever trusted the IRS before.

Tonight I toast my tax guy and look forward to next year's simpler... much simpler... tax return.

Hotsy-Totsy

What Pin Up girl are you?

You are the smartie pants! You're very intellectual and love to read and write. It's all good. You'll be successful later on in life!
Take this quiz!








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