Volunteer: We just had a real doozie of a case.
Me: Oh yeah?
Volunteer: This lady called in and, well, she needs to change her locks.
Me: Mmhmm.
Volunteer: Her boyfriend is just wandering about out there.
Me: Okaay...
Volunteer, mumbling, exits stage left.
I done gone and jumped on the 360 bandwagon.
I have avoided all of the social friends sites because I felt like they were an extension of high school: find out what cliques you do not and never will belong in. Have a terrible time feeling terrible and knowing that everyone else around you is pointing and laughing.
I avoided all of that pettiness until now. And it really is like high school, in that my hopes are up. I want you to like me. Really like me. So I sit here, all of ten minutes after setting up my account, waiting for someone to add me as a contact.
Pathetic? Yes.
Petty? Yes.
Silly, even? Yes.
But if, you know, you wanted to add me as a contact, that would be, you know, *sniff* cool. I mean, whatever. It doesn't really matter to me one way or another. So whatever.
Also if you want an invite (you need to know the secret handshake), let me know and I'll gladly share.
I don't have to explain myself to you, you rude person on the other end of the telephone line.
No, I was not here when you called and you had to leave a message.
No, I do not know the specifics of your situation.
No, I do not care to know.
Although I work in a social-services-esque non-profit, I work in administration. Which means I get to tell a lot of people 'no' with greater frequency than you ever will. Envy me that, at least.
And yet, before I can stop myself, the explanation is passing my lips and into your ears along with the hope that it will make you shut up, hang up, and leave me alone.
No. No. No.
No.
Intelligence.
Hotness.
Strength.
A man is only worth time and energy if he has at least two out of those crucial three.
Some females may try to persuade themselves that all that is necessary is the man's hotness quotient, but they are just kidding themselves.
Is he smart and hot? Awesome.
Is he hot and strong? Awesome.
Is he strong and smart? Awesome.
Is he smart and hot and strong?
My God, the possibilities.
The Open North American Championship is a dog sled race comprised of three mushing sprints held on seperate days. Each race begins downtown Fairbanks, loops through the town, and finishes downtown Fairbanks.
And by downtown, I mean exactly that. Snow is hauled in by the truck load to completely cover Second Avenue. Don't even think about driving through downtown while while the races are going on.
I walked down there last Saturday to see what I could see and hopefully get out of a photography slump I have been in the past few weeks.
I was disapointed by the harsh sun and shadows, but hey. Whatchagonnado? I loved the sound of the dogs waiting at the start line. They were so excited to get to run that they were all barking/whining/squealing in a way that can be pretty obnoxious. At the start of the race, however, it added to the excitement of the day.
Open North American Championship Gallery.
Volunteer: "This guy really needs some help. You see, he lives in a van..."
Me: "...down by the river!" *cracks self up*
Volunteer and Co-Worker exchanged confused and concerned looks.
I walked away still chuckling.
JR is not only a super great guy, but he is also my own personal hero and coding monkey. The weather is back, bigger, and mo'better than ever.
I woke this morning to PHP include errors galore and a lovely announcement from my host:
PHP provides a feature allowing a programmer to open, include or otherwise use a remote file using a URL rather than a local file path. Unfortunately, that feature is the source of a large number of security holes in PHP web applications running on our servers and we have been spending an increasing amount of time handling issues resulting from those security exploits. In the interest of overall system security, we have decided to disable this feature as of now. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.
If you happen to know of a free temperature script thingy I can put on my sidebar - something without all those hideously animations - please let me know.
Even better, I would love to use the results from the National Weather Service (RSS and XML). I tried messing with MagpieRSS to parse the RSS, but couldn't even figure out how to install the dumb thing on my server. I don't even know if it will do what I want.
Any ideas?
This past week has been a gi-normous emotional roller coaster, one with free falls and gorgeous scenic views and giant hammers pounding our car repeatedly into the ground.
All of this revolving around constant pain (I'm sure you remember). Yes, it had gone away and all was well until it came back with its older brothers and cousins to kick my butt.
Yes, I have seen a doctor.
Yes, we know what is causing it.
Yes, we are working on making it go away.
Yes, everything will be fine.
I really do want to be witty and funny and eloquent and, well, here, but the fact is that I am not. At least not right now.
Why cupcakes?
Eating a miniature, individualized cake with sprinkles (always required) is just shy of heaven.
There is just something about those tiny balls of sugar wrapped with pure paper love that reaches down into your soul and bring out butterflies and rainbows and giggles.
I think the better question would be why not cupcakes?
Ask yourself that right now.
Are you eating a cupcake?
Why not?
Cupcakes make the world a better place.
I am currently the only one in the office. Since the new supervisor started working here in January, he has always been here before me.
It's very quiet. The only sound is that of my fingers on the keyboard and the fans in the three computers sitting at my feet. If I take a second from typing to compose my thoughts, I can hear someone else's phone ringing, no doubt on the other side of the building.
It feels pretty nice to have this quiet to myself. I realize now that I miss it. Before the new supervisor I would have the office to myself until 8.30a at the earliest.
It's Melissa's birthday today. She would have been 21.
There were a ton of photos left on a computer recently donated to my work. So I present to you a gallery of found photos.
It has bee so exceptionally warm here this past week that I am positively giddy. It was over 60°F in the sun yesterday, and otherwise has hung right around 30°F.
You know what that means?
That means melting.
That means breakup.
That means spring.
I pulled out my sandals and have not worn anything with sleeves. I am so ready for spring.
Insanity is wiping and wiping and wiping at the stupid smudge on the computer monitor and then, only upon getting up to get a better rag, noticing the smudge lives on the lens of my glasses, not the monitor.
Now I will not need to hate the upstairs neighbor for much longer.
I had to call the landlords at 3.45 Saturday morning because of those horribly barky dogs. They hadn't barked for very long, but I realized that if they bark enough to wake me to the point of being able to rationally decide whether to call the landlords, I am too awake. Let the landlords deal with it.
Then, when arranging with the landlords for a new key this morning (B's broke off in the door last night), we were informed that she is moving out, and taking those dogs with her.
Moving out.
Yay!
The landlord also apologized for all of the troubles; they had thought they were a better judge of character.
Hopefully the next tenant will be like the previous tenant: older, quiet, and working two jobs so never home. We liked her.
I got an email from a wonderful pair of people, Sarah and Jon, who were up late doing some Googlewhacking and found my site.
Too bad it doesn't count as an actual Googlewhack, as osscillate is only spelled with one 's'. Even so, I am honored.
We like to toss the dog toys under the couch. Not blinking an eye or slowing her step, Lacey lowers her head and barrels into the 4" clearance under the couch. Her hind legs flatten straight back against the floor and she disappears in less than two seconds.
Miniature Schnauzers were bred to hunt rats, and, as such, are amazingly able to get themselves into small, seemingly impossible places. Lacey is no different.
Getting out from under the couch is a little harder because she can't get up the right amount of momentum. So she comes out a bit on her side, toy in mouth, pedaling her feet as hard as they can against the carpet.
Earlier this morning, B tossed a toy under the couch and under she went with nary a second thought. But this time, she didn't come out.
I got down on my stomach and found her curled in a ball with her head propped on her toy as though it were a pillow. It looked so dark and cozy and happy under there that I wished I could join her.
She emerged fifteen minutes later with pillow face (have I mentioned she needs a haircut?) and a huge yawn. The hard life of a dog.
This morning I drove to work with the sun in my eyes. I had to put on my sunglasses because the sun was above the horizon. At 8am. Not still sleeping, not rising and turning the sky pretty pink, and not hiding behind a wall of grey clouds. But above the horizon.
I can almost feel spring coming.
For those worried, I am feeling fine.
My hip, my uterus, both completely void of pain.
No need to worry. All is well.
Last night was the pain, yes.
When I got home, B was in the shower. I lied on the bathroom mat, on the floor, and chatted with him through our frog curtain about our respective days at work. And the pain.
I chose the floor over the counter or the toilet (with closed lid) because it was cool and hard and I could curl into a fetal position, making my uterus feel better. As it turned out, that position was one not favored by my hip.
My hip! My hip! I cried as I rolled back and forth, stuck between the wall on my left and the toilet on my right.
Embarrassingly in an old-lady sort of way, B had to help me up. And then force-fed me a Flexeril, one of his pills left over from when he was broken.
And as nice and tiny that wonder drug was, it didn't do Jack Dandy. I hobbled to and from the store, clutching my lower abdomen and favoring my old-lady hip. No happy-happy, no less pain, no sleepiness. Nothing.
Before I went to bed he pulled out the big guns, his One True Love: a Vicodin pill. He waxed poetic about its happy-happy happiness and made sure I realized the Great Sacrifice he was making in letting me have one.
Yeah yeah yeah, hand it over.
He pulled out this... pill. As big as an f'ing horse, it was. A Clydesdale. And uncoated, no less. I had to taste this bitter horse for three days as it moseyed down my throat with five glasses of water. Get along, you f'n horse of a doggie.
But, you know what happened?
The wonderful, lovely thing that happened?
Happy-happy.
Bye-bye pain.
And the sleepy-sleepy.
After half an hour I could no longer keep my eyes open, and I woke feeling completely rested this morning. It was so lovely.
I'll let you know when I find his stash, but don't even think about asking me to share.
rhapsodic.org is a weblog by Valette McLay.
Valette has lived in Alaska all of her life and loves the ocean, her miniature schnauzer Lacey, and being barefoot.
