J.P.

As I’ve been dealing with my sister’s illness and hospital stay, I’ve been having some ridiculous pangs of guilt. Earl is always quick to remind me that guilt is a feeling that comes from within. You can not be made to feel guilty, you have to have the seeds of guilt within you that get stirred up by something (like a really good guilt trip, I suppose) and THEN you feel guilty.

I think my seeds of guilt have been overwatered or something.

I started out this morning with the routine I’ve been following all week… jump out of bed, feed Tom, check e-mail, let Tom out, shower, shave, brush my teeth, let Tom in and off to the hospital.

I felt guilty because my e-mail Inbox is rather full and I haven’t answered any of my messages in about a week. I also had two ebay auction items that needed to be boxed up and shipped out, but I hadn’t gotten around to those either.

Last night as I was driving home from the hospital, I vowed that I would package everything up and get it off to UPS. But then I started reading my daily dose of blogs, including BS and his cute boyfriend and I got sidetracked by the internet. It’s amazing how hyperlinks and a little dose of Google can follow my very odd train of thought. Dave’s cute boyfriend -> nice mustache -> sales on Mach III blades? -> sales at Price Chopper -> new Price Chopper store format -> new blog template. I feel guilty for being so scattered brained.

When I got home tonight, the garbage cans were rolling around in the street, Tom was very hungry and a week’s worth of unopened mail sat on the counter. And then today I called off the rest of the week from work so I could be with my sister in the hospital. I got a double dose of guilt on that one… feeling guilty for calling into my new place of employment and feeling guilty for feeling guilty about work when I should be with my sister. Ugh. At least I mustered up the energy to re-rinse the laundry (again) and get the UPS shipments ready.

Now I’ve just realized that I did not call Earl at 10:00 p.m. as planned this evening. I know he’ll be understanding, but I know I’ll feel guilty.

So tomorrow morning, I’ve decided that I’m not going to be guilty about anything anymore. After all, it’s a feeling from within, right? Whatever happens, happens.

Now if I could just stop feeling guilty about rambling in my blog tonight.

This week has been rather strange. It’s been very busy, but I haven’t been to work, except for five minutes early on Monday morning. I had to let them know that I would be taking some time off because of my sister being in the hospital. It was sort of strange, as Earl and I spent the entire weekend at the hospital with my sister, then, there I was at work asking for time off when I’ve only worked there for four weeks. And I think I’m going to need the rest of the week off, which is going to be very odd because, again, I’ve only been there four weeks.

My sister is coming along slowly but surely in her recovery. She is still in intensive care and her condition is still rated as “critical” but she is doing much better. They finally figured out what she has. She has pneumonia courtesy of a friendly little bacteria called Legionella. Legionella sounds rather creepy, doesn’t it? Almost like a disliked character on Bewitched or something equally supernatural. Uh oh, here comes Legionella.

Legionella usually brings on the infamous Legionnaire’s Disease. However, if she’s in a cranky mood (isn’t it funny that I’ve decided Legionella is a _she_), she’ll hang out in air conditioner condensation drip or other fun water sources and then jump into an unsuspecting person and give them a near-deadly form of pneumonia.

My sister’s vital signs are stablizing, and she’s getting weaned off of her ventilator but very, very slowly. Her blood pressure is somewhat normal without a med assist. That’s good news. She’s taking baby steps towards her recovery, but it’s going to be a long road. I’m glad that I can help in any way that I can.

Earl had to go to Ohio to tend to business, so it’s basically been me keeping down the fort and trotting back and forth to Syracuse to go to the hospital for the day. The hospital staff has been really, really nice, except for one respiratory specialist I call Creepella (maybe she’s related to Legionella somehow). She doesn’t have much of a bedside manner. I suspect it’s because no one is in bed with her and she’s just plain frigid, but we can’t hold that against her. Her primary concern, like everyone’s, is my sister’s well being and we will just have to save the little speech about being nice to the patient’s family (and more importantly, the patient) for another time. I’ve made it a point to speak with everyone that’s anyone and to call everyone by their first name. I don’t know why I’m doing that, but it’s making me feel better. Usually I just address someone without a name. Sometimes a rude “hey you”. I’ve even been striking up conversation with the cafeteria staff and know from first hand conversation that the lovely kitchen lady named Barbara with the really tight hairnet makes 75 salads every day and then wraps up 75 slices of cake with saran wrap. I think she thinks I’m weird, but that’s o.k., because I am.

So now I have this new routine that involves getting up as if I’m going to work and then heading to Syracuse. Thank God for Sirius satellite radio, especially Sirius Out Q 149 (all gay channel). I battle for a spot in the parking garage, then I hang out in the ICU lounge, where I pick lint off my shirt, read the newspaper five to seven times and visit with my sister frequently. Sometimes I eat pistachio nuts and relive old department store names with my cousin or Thruway road construction details with my uncle. I also ask a million and one questions of anyone that looks like they could be important medically. I remember vital signs to relay to other family members, question the purpose of medication and worry about things like bowel movements, fevers, Ensure and the purpose of latex gloves. I make many cell phone calls to keep others informed of the situation. I show other hospital visitors how to use the lounge computer. I check on the hospital master clock system to make sure everything is working correctly.

Sure, the routine is hectic. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. As long as I have a healthy sister when it’s all done.

My sister is currently in intensive care with a really, really, really bad case of pneumonia. Where she got it or what exactly caused it is anyone’s guess. She’s currently on a ventilator with all sorts of tubes serving all sorts of functions. She’s in an induced coma.

I’ve seen more family and friends over the past 72 hours than you can shake a stick at. Jennifer was in very bad shape Friday and Saturday, but last night she showed marked improvement, and while she’s not out of the woods yet, by any means, she is looking out through the trees.

I am so encouraged by the love and prayers shown by all sides of our family and all her friends.

It has not been an easy path the past couple of days, and it will continue to be a struggle on the road ahead. But she’s a healthy young woman, and with help from the outstanding group of doctors and medical professionals, she will pull through this. It’s just going to take some time.

With election season in full swing, I suppose I should be getting my underwear in a knot about this whole presidential election. But honestly I can’t find any passion within me about the whole affair. I do know that Bush Lite is not the answer. I’ve always found him to be a self-rightious, insensitive, stuttering, stammering fool, full of hate and masking it with religious beliefs. I think he’s the type that’s had sand kicked in his face too many times by the bullies on the beach and now he’s off to the show the world that he’s not a weakling, and he’s to be respected because he’s all powerful. Whatever.

Then there’s John Kerry. As a Democrat, I believe in much of what John Kerry believes in. I think he’ll make a good, or even a great president, but I don’t think he’ll make an outstanding president. There’s something missing from the equation, but I can’t put my finger on it. I will give you that I think he’d do better than Bush Lite. Good gravy, anything is better than Bush Lite.

I find it humorous that Bush Lite is constantly bringing his religious beliefs into the picture. “Abortion is wrong.” “Marriage is between a man and a woman.” One thing I can not stand about Bible beaters is that they insist on beating you over the head with their beliefs. “I’m right, I’m right, I’m right, I’m right, you’re wrong, you must stop, you’re going to hell.” Well if I’m going to hell (which, by the way, I do not believe or even believe in), then why waste your time on me? Yes, I believe abortion is wrong. But I believe that every woman has the right to make the choice for herself. Quite frankly, it’s none of the government’s business. And no, I don’t believe marriage is exclusively for the love between a man and a woman. But then again, I believe that two people in love, regardless of race, gender, whatever, can have a union far stronger than anything the government deems a “marriage”. Our ancestors came to this country to escape religious tyranny. Isn’t it ironic that our government could now be accused of the same?

I could be totally superficial and just vote for the cute one. But, there really isn’t a cute one running for President. Bush Lite is one step shy of drool running down his chin, and Kerry’s eyebrows are a little too plucked for my tastes (did he get a face lift or something?). I do find John Edwards to be quite attractive, but then again, I didn’t find anything wrong with Dan Quayle’s looks either and look at that mess. So that theory is shot.

I kind of wish Bill Clinton was back running for President. The world seemed to be a happier place when he was in the White House. Granted, it was before September 11th, the war or terrorism and all that, but people’s spirits were higher. Now everyone is running around scared, people are dying in Iraq, the economy is going down the crapper and the public in general just seems depressed. Like there’s a big cloud of gloom. I have an uneasy feeling about the months ahead. I hope I’m wrong.

I just can’t wait for this election to be over with. Even with the worse outcome, at least it marks being half way through Bush Lite’s term as President.

Earl and I decided to kick off the Labor Day weekend with a trip to Buffalo and Niagara Falls. Having received my new Apple PowerMac G4 533 on Friday (much to my surprise), I wanted to visit the Apple store for some accessories, plus we thought we’d hit the newish casino on the American side of the falls.

After a costly visit to the Apple store, we headed up Interstate 190 to Niagara Falls. About two miles from the Canadian border, traffic came to a screeching halt. Even though we were staying on the American side of the falls, we needed to go to the very last exit on I-190 to get on Route 104 and head into downtown Niagara Falls. Anyways, after sitting in a traffic about 10 minutes, I watched an SUV behind me do a quick U-turn by crossing over the grassy median between the two roadways of the interstate. Since we were in the Jeep, I thought that would be a GREAT way to get out of the traffic jam and to find an alternate route.

The cop down the road from me didn’t agree.

Ms. SUV sped up and made a quick turn, leaving me with Mr. Friendly State Police. Strike 1. Long story short, I got a ticket for making an unlawful U-turn.

Later, after some gambling and a typical casino buffet, Earl and I hit the road home. As we were crossing over the first Grand Island bridge, I noticed that we were very low on gas. Not a problem, I’d simply get off at the next exit that indicated there were gas stations nearby. We exited at the next exit, which said there was gas, but simply dumped us in the middle of nowhere. I decided to follow my instincts and turned right onto a main drag looking side road, since turning left would have dumped us into the Niagara River. I cruised along at 45 (the posted speed) and headed towards a retail looking area. I noted the cop following me since we exited I-190 and made sure I maintained a speed of 45 MPH. As we got to the retail plazas, I started to turn into the first gas station, which I then noticed was boarded up (even though the street lights were on). So then I proceeded through an intersection and, not being familiar with the area, began to make a quick right into the next gas station. Without using my turn signal to change lanes.

Mr. Friendly Cop #2 flipped on his lights instead. He was suspicious that I had exited I-190 in the middle of nowhere with an out of town vehicle. He was always not pleased with me crossing the white line without using my turn signals. And, apparently when I was horsing around with Earl right after we exited 190 (I was grabbing for his chest if you must know), I did a little swerve that apparently frightened a pedestrian. I didn’t even see a pedestrian. But Mr. Cop told me that it would have been a big mess if I had hit the pedestrian. Apparently Earl had seen her and later told me that she was quite large, but I wasn’t really that close to her.

He asked if I had been drinking and why I was driving around the island. I showed him my gas gauge (being near empty) and told him that I had followed the gas signs from I-190 and they led to nowhere. He ran our plates and my license and then sent me on my way, telling me to be careful.

The moral of the story? Go to the Apple store in Albany. And go to a casino far away from the Canadian border. And don’t hit the fat lady.

Five years ago, I would have never guessed that I would switch over to their side. At the mall they were displaying themselves in the window of their new hideout. I scoffed at them. I called them freaks. Easy. Eye Candy. Nothing but a toy for a fool’s pleasure.

Naturally, I was talking about a Mac.

This morning, I jumped over to the Mac side. Now those who have followed my blog for a while will know that I’ve dreamed about getting a Mac. A brand new, shinny, spiffin’ latest incarnation of a PowerMac.

I lied.

Today I purchased a refurbished PowerMac G4 533mhz system with 256MB of RAM. It’s already on the truck and on its way. It’ll be here in a week. I am so excited about the newest baby joining the family. He’s already been dubbed Macwarrior. He’ll get a little boost with more RAM when he arrives. And I’m sure I can find a few toys to dress him up a bit, especially after we browse the Apple store.

Yes, I did want the latest and greatest, especially since the really cool looking G5s were announced by Apple yesterday. But do I really NEED the latest and greatest? Of course I don’t. Why spend thousands upon thousands of dollars when I’m would end up using maybe a quarter of the system’s capabilities? I’ll grow into that someday, but for now, Macwarrior will do just fine for me.

Five years ago, I wasn’t a big Mac fan. I thought my capabilities were lightyears beyond anything a Mac could provide me. I was wrong. There was no challenge in using a Mac. The blasted thing even smiled at you! Hackers don’t get smiled at? They get blinked at by a stark cursor at a command prompt. They type in commands like ‘ps aux | grep fetchass’. Well now I can have my cake and eat it too. I’m ready to play in Mac OS X land. I’ve had my Linux box wearing a Mac OS X costume for quite a while. And I haven’t booted into Windows XP in weeks.

I never thought I would see the day that our house would become a Mac only zone. That day arrives next Wednesday.

Anyone want to buy a souped up HP?

As I was returning to work today after a wonderful lunch with Earl, I daydreamed for a moment about work and how I’m doing. I consider myself to be pretty successful career-wise, and as I embark on this new challenge of my job it makes me re-evaluate my skills and basic business know how. I owe a good chunk of my basic skills to my folks.

For one thing, I’m a really, really, really good typist. Not to sound wildly cocky, but I’ve come across maybe a handful of people that can type faster and more accurately than myself. That’s my Mom’s fault. When I was six or seven, the little geek in me became very intrigued by her Royal manual typewriter. I would type away, banging on the keys with my fingers and hope for the best. My Mom said that if I’m going to play with her typewriter, I was going to do it the right way, and pretty much taught me to use the correct fingers while I was typing. The first time I used an electric typewriter in fifth grade, I flew along and astounded those around me. Teachers trusted me, in my elementary school years no less, to type their ditto masters, because I could do it quickly and without errors, because if you made a mistake on the ditto master, you had to scrap it and start over. To this day I can type along while chatting with Earl and not miss a beat. I owe that ability to my Mom.

Another business skill I think I’m pretty good at is my telephone etiquette. Again, that’s my Mom’s fault. My Mom was a telphone operator for good ol’ Ma Bell in the mid 1960s and to this day has a telephone voice and manner that rivals few. She taught my sister and me to speak politely to the operator when she asked for our phone number when we dialed long distance (Yes, we had a party line where you had to give your phone number so they knew who to bill). She taught us to speak directly into the phone and to listen carefully and respond kindly, in a pleasant voice, because the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see you. While I’ve waivered from time to time while in a heated discussion (especially in my previous job), I like to think that I maintain that manner to this day.

My Dad had his hand in my business upbringing as well. My father’s side of the family owns a hardware/lumber store and contracting business. I worked there in my teen years, and before I was an official employee, I often tagged along in the summer to hang out with everyone. My Dad taught me that when you’re part of a company, it’s never “I”, it’s always “we”. “What can WE do for you today.” “PVC pipe? WE have four different sizes to choose from.” “OUR contractors are the best in the business.” When you’re dealing with the public, you are a representative of the whole “we”. The customer is not dealing with me, he’s dealing with US. A team, while they may disagree amongst themselves, are united when dealing with a potential customer. I firmly believe that those that succeed in business think in the “we”, not the “me”.

Since high school, I’ve accumulated many skills that has put me where I am today. I still continue to learn on a daily basis, from those I work with and those I love. But I like to think that Mom and Dad laid a pretty good foundation.

One of the perks of my new job is the fact that I get a lunch hour. I know that statement makes me sound like I just stepped through the looking glass or something, so I better explain myself a little bit better.

At my previous job, I almost always ate lunch at the office with the rest of the crew. There wasn’t really a defined lunch hour. Phones continued to ring and things continued to need tending to, so we sort of ordered in and gathered around the kitchen table and ate lunch while we answered the phone (with our mouths full) or talked about work related issues. While we did take a moment to eat, we didn’t really stop, so there was no break in the work day.

At my new job, I have a lunch hour. Once I’m in the job full swing, the timing will jump around a little bit depending on what shift I’m on (work shifts are staggered by an hour, depending if you’re on call that week or not, and lunch time follows suit). But I’ve taken the opportunity to leave the office for the full lunch hour every day since I’ve started. I love it! Even if I bring my lunch to work, I still go for a ride in the car and see what the world is up to, listening to Sirius Out Q or the disco channel on the satellite radio. A little Gloria Gaynor and I’m good to go.

It’s amazing what an hour of “me time” can do in the middle of the day. It’s like a rejuvenating kick in the pants. An hour of sunshine does wonders for the soul. Big gulps of fresh air. A break from the computer hypnosis. I think I’ll even enjoy my lunch hour outside year round… it keeps me grounded.

So if you’re sitting inside on your lunch hour, grab your lunch pail and head outside, and enjoy it.

Earl and I took the opportunity this weekend to go on a little bit of a shopping spree. It wasn’t anything exceedingly wild (at least for us), but we did make a couple of purchases our home, including a new DirecTV system.

We had DirecTV in our old house because there was nothing else available. Cable hadn’t been strung to our rural location, in fact, we were just four poles away from the end of the line and the cable company wasn’t about to extend it any further. So we went with the DirecTV route. Earl, being the rabid football fan that he was, loved the NFL Sunday ticket that gave him every game possible from every angle.

He asked me a couple of weeks ago to go ahead and get the cable company’s version of the Sunday ticket for this NFL season.

“There’s isn’t one.”

“What do you mean there isn’t one”, he asked as he began to pale slightly.

“The cable company doesn’t offer an NFL Sunday Ticket. They show the Bills and the Giants and that’s it.”

“Bastards.”

Actually, I don’t know if he said “bastards” or not, but you get the idea. So I offered the thought of getting DirecTV here at the new house. They’ve made a number of strides since we were last served by then, including Hi-Definition television. The only problem is that in 1999 the Federal Government (the wise sages that they are), decided that the satellite companies can’t provide the network channels if you can get them off an antenna. You had to apply for a waiver. Since we already had satellite service when this law was put into play, we were grandfathered, and enjoyed the networks from both the east and west coasts. Since we’re a new install now, the chances of getting the network crap is a little dicey.

This weekend we decided to go for it and play in the red tape. So we went ahead and ordered DirecTV. The kind gentleman on the phone told us that to get TiVo again, we’d need to go to Best Buy or Circuit City and purchase the newest unit so that we could record in Hi-Def.

Off to Best Buy. An attractive, if yet clueless, sales associate greeted us and looked at us like we had asked her to take a dump on the floor when we asked her about this latest incarnation of TiVo.

“It’s not available to the general public yet.”

“But the guy at DirecTV told us to come get it, you’d have it.”

“Nope. Not available. And it’s not going to be for at least six weeks.” Apparently, she doesn’t need a computer or anything, because she rattled off this little nugget of information right off the top of her pointed little head.

Well Earl went a little crazy. You see, we tried to buy satellite radio at Best Buy a couple of weeks ago, and after selling us on a particular unit they informed us that they were sold out and would not have it in stock again for at least six weeks. I don’t know why six weeks is a magic number. It just is. Before the satellite radio incident, I tried to buy some Linux gear, in which the sales associate told me that they didn’t carry anything like that, while he was standing next to the latest distribution of SuSE Linux.

So like last week, we jumped in the car and drove across the street to Circuit City. They didn’t carry the particular TiVo we wanted, however, they did have them in the warehouse and would have it delivered to our home this week.

THANK YOU.

I also took the opportunity to apply for a Circuit City credit card, which they promptly approved with TWICE the credit limit of Best Buy and offered me 18 months of no interest.

Today I went back to Circuit City to get a couple of upgrades for my computer and I was greeted with a smile and a knowledgeable salesperson. In addition, I wasn’t distracted by Best Buy’s flashing lights, out of control music, lack of intelligent salespeople and refrigerators that have a built in television.

I don’t expect a lot when it comes to customer service. A pleasant greeting. Some knowledge about what you’re dealing with, or the resources to answer a question if you can’t do it on your own, a pleasant pass through the checkouts and a hearty thank you after giving you our hard earned money. By the way, I always say “Thank you” when handed my package that the cashier just bagged up. It’s my way of being pleasant. It irks me beyond belief when they say “You’re welcome”. No, asshat, you should say “Thank you” as well as I, at the very least, just contributed to your paycheck.

Customer service has gone by the way of the full service gas station. No one cares anymore. Everyone is so surly and uninterested. When I go to McDonald’s I’m happy when the cashier gives me my food without blowing her nose in my hamburger wrapper or snapping her gum in my ear. I’m grateful when the witch behind the counter at the department store doesn’t shred my credit card. I consider myself lucky when the grocery store clerk doesn’t mash my bread. Remember when the bag boy used to take your groceries out to the car for you? Well, he didn’t do it for me, but he did for my mother and grandmother, and then he got a little tip! I could use the pick me up of seeing the bag boy’s cute ass near my trunk. Why don’t they do that anymore? No. Instead we have to scan the groceries ourselves and listen to a computer speak in elementary terms on how to pass the barcode by the laser.

And why don’t people smile? Say hello. Be friendly. Don’t warble “can I help ya?” in an annoyed voice. Say “What Can We Do For You?” Be interested! Care! Is it too much to ask?

As I’ve been enjoying our Sirius satellite radio this week, I can’t help reflect upon the fact that Top 40 “Pop” music has really gone down the crapper. Top 40 music seems so repetitive, angry and just plain bad these days. I’ve only heard three songs in the past two years that I’ve truly enjoyed:

1. “The Game of Love” by Santana featuring Michelle Branch. An infectious tune, I still crank it up whenever I hear it. The mixshow DJ in me would try to mix it into the old “That’s What Love Can Do” by Boy Krazy, as it has somewhat of the same beat. You can’t help but sing along to this one.

2. “Invisible” by Clay Aiken. Clay will always be the true American Idol from the second season in my eyes and this song just proves it. While Ruben apologized for his travesty of “Sorry 2004”, Clay’s “Invisible” is a true pop gem. I especially enjoy the bridge of the song… it has a nice classic pop feel to it and for some reason reminds me of David Cassidy and Shirley Jones singing a Partridge Family tune. Classic Stuff.

3. “The Eighth World Wonder” by Kimberley Locke. Again, another melodically pleasing song with pleasant harmonies and a classic pop sound. I can’t help but sing to this song when I hear it.

Aside from those three songs, whenever I turn to a “hit music channel”, satellite or not, it’s playing crap. From the thump, thump, thump of an electronic drum track to the beep, beep, beep of unnecessarily rude lyrics, I can’t help but wonder what happened to pop music in the past 10 years. When did Top 40 music get so angry? And doesn’t anyone have an original idea anymore? Will Smith’s dumb rapping over Patrice Rushen’s “Forget Me Nots” is nothing but blasphemy and I think Destiny’s Child should be prohibited from ever showing their face again after chanting some crap over “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks. Don’t even get me started on Crystal Waters’ “Come On Down”, a remix of the theme from “The Price Is Right”! To think I enjoyed “Gypsy Woman” back in the day.

Now, I’m not so old as to not know that the last three songs I mentioned are ancient by Top 40 standard. I just buzz by the crap so fast that I don’t know what’s hip. Or bad. Or Phat. Or whatever it is. Thank God I’m not in radio anymore. I’d sound like Dick Clark on New Years’ Eve.