Ponderings and Musings

Many of my vivid childhood memories are pre-1977 which was the year we moved into the new house. Before moving we lived in a 10×55 mobile home with a 10×50 addition that my Dad had built shortly after my sister was born. The mobile home sat on a piece of property next to my grandparents. It was in the middle of a cow and horse pasture. Two sides of our back lawn were surrounded by electric fence. My Dad built the new house, a two-story colonial that he still lives in today, across the street from the trailer. Aside from some help from the two guys that worked at the family contracting business, my uncle and my grandfather, my Dad built the house pretty much on his own. It took him two years.

Four people living in a small mobile home was an interesting experience. During the summer we’d have one more living with us; one of my city cousins would come up for some “fresh country air” for a week. There was one bathroom and if we needed to go when someone was in there we’d run across the lawn to my grandparents and use their guest bath near the side entrance to their house. The addition to the trailer allowed for us to have a laundry room, but it was small and only had room for the dryer. The washing machine was in the bathroom. My parents’ bedroom was in the addition and utilized the original back door to the trailer. I don’t know how they had sex because the door was rarely closed. There was a gun rack built into the wall. The third room of the addition was the living room. The old living room in the original trailer became the dining room. It had a small round table that barely sat the four of us. My sister and I shared a bedroom, complete with bunk beds that took up the length of the north wall. Mom once tried to give my sister her own room by splitting the bunks and using the small bedroom behind the furnace, but it wasn’t long enough for a bed. Only a crib would fit in there and she had outgrown that years ago.

I like to think that living in the trailer kept us a close family as there wasn’t really any place for us to escape away from each other. Summer afternoons were spent romping around the farm; I’d hop up on a tree stump and jump into the fenced in pasture and do my own version of running with the bulls. The cows didn’t care if we were in the pasture, but once in a while a bull would get cranky about it. If I yelled “boo” in his direction really loud, he’d stop heading towards me. I’d then run to another tree stump in the pasture and jump back over the fence to my own side.

One of my favorite memories from the trailer was a birthday party for my sister and I. Our birthdays are five days apart and we shared a family birthday party. My city cousins and aunts would come up with Grandma and Aunt Jenn; it was one of the rare times that my city cousins would mingle with my country cousins, who lived relatively close. We’d have a cake that my Mom made, complete with those pure sugar candy letters and numbers from the Acme.

When I think back to the happiest times of my childhood, it’s often to a time when we lived in the trailer.

So today is the first the test of my decision to return to work full-time. You see, I am working the “early shift” today and tomorrow, and that involves getting up at 5:30. I am not a morning person.

Tom decided to throw his sense of humour around the bedroom by caterwauling at 5:00 a.m., just in case I decided not to sleep until the alarm went off. He is such a funny guy, I wonder if he is successful on the kitty-cat stand-up circuit.

Getting up before 9 a.m. is a chore for me, getting up at 5:30 without being a grumpy, growling bear is the ultimate test in restraint for me. I’m working through my morning routine backwards just to keep the whole thing interesting and attentive.

I can always sleep at my desk later in the day.

Flickr Link.

I’ve worked it out so that I work three days a week until July 10. Then it’s four days a week until Labor Day and then I’m full time after that. How’s that for setting a nice summer schedule? It is the social season, you know.

I’ve made several big decisions this week: a full-time job, school on hold, etc. I could go on and on about how my head is spinning but to be honest it’s not. I always listen to my gut and my gut says I did good. I feel great. I feel remarkably stress free, though I know that’ll change once I get back into the on call schedule again in September. The great thing is that since all the positions in my group are now filled the on call schedule is manageable with my turn coming up once every five weeks. I can live with that. They have added incentives to on call to make it a little more bearable. I see gadgets in my future (after the debt is paid down).

Ironically, as soon as I sealed the deal with my boss with a handshake, all hell broke loose in the Network Operations Center and it hasn’t slowed down at all. The controlled chaos came back at full-tilt and quite frankly I was reveling in it. Instead of one or two customers losing their internet connection at a time, we had 60 to 70 dropping at once. No xtube in lots of offices this week!

Now I get to relax for Thursday and Friday. I have a few projects around the house I want to finish up. I might even run the vacuum cleaner from where Tom threw a plant at us at 4:00 a.m. this morning.

One of the reasons that I’m able to work part-time at my old position at the telephone company this summer is because a full-time position in the group recently opened up. I enjoy working for this local telecommunications company; it’s a family owned business that does it’s own thing in a very cookie-cutter world. That last point can occasionally be frustrating, but there’s a certain organised chaos in the atmosphere that I enjoy. I have mentioned before that I love the people in the group that I work in and this latest incarnation of staff seems very cohesive. I enjoy going to work.

I often say that when people tell me to look at the “big picture” they soon realise that I am not even looking at the same painting and sometimes I’m browsing a completely different wing of this proverbial art gallery. My “big picture” is often different than what other people see and I enjoy this quirky nature I have.

Over the past several weeks I have been re-evaluating my schooling and career aspirations. Thinking over my goals began early in the last fall semester; I was learning that I had a good chunk of schooling ahead of me: my two-year degree would get me a position that paid less than the job I had left, a four-year degree would get me in the ballpark and then I would have to do several years of working with the Department of Transportation or a consulting firm before I could take the required exams for the position that I was striving for. By then I would be in my late 40s and, as I sensed at a recent job interview, the industry is looking for young bucks and buckettes that they can shape into something wonderful and more importantly, long lasting. Couple my age with my lack of health insurance, an increasingly struggling economy and a retirement fund that wasn’t getting added to and a sense of responsibility (drat that common ‘big picture’) was starting to rattle it’s keys in my direction. Earl and I are doing fine financially but since I started school we’ve been playing it close. Contrary to the chaotic fiscal past of my youth, I don’t like having debt looming over our heads. You never know when the house of cards is going to come crashing down.

I threw my name in the hat for the full time position at my old job last week. As a person, both personally (of course) and professionally, I feel that I have grown considerably since I left the full time version of the gig one and a half years ago. I feel that I still have a lot to contribute to the team and to the company and I honestly miss my daily dabblings in technology. Things _happened_ at my old job whilst the position I aspired for appeared to move at the speed of flowing molasses.

So this morning I met with the department head who made me an offer I just couldn’t refuse. When I threw my name in the hat, I added some numbers to my slip of paper. Their numbers and my numbers surprisingly matched. And faster than Brett Somers can write “BOOBS” on her Match Game card, I strongly considered the position. “I’ll let you know in the morning, once I talk to the big guy.” (That would be Earl).

We had the talk tonight. Weighing the pros and cons, adding a few tears of love and punching a few numbers on the calculator on my iPhone¹ I’ve decided to become Mr. Telephone Man again. The position allows me to play with technology, pays the bills and more importantly, makes me happy. Some may think I’ve lost my mind completely by jumping back into the controlled chaos but I’m really excited about the opportunity. I’ll work part-time through the summer and then I’m back to full-time the day after Labor Day.

And as I moved from one painting to another in my separate gallery, I took a glance back at the painting I had been looking at for the past 18 months and saw my passion for that painting to be fully intact. Had I stared at that painting for too long, I have a feeling that the passion may have turned into “just a job”, destroying my inquisitive nature of discovering highways and construction projects and journeys across a smattering of countries.

I know I have made the right decision.

¹ Here is my obligatory iPhone reference on ‘iPhone 3G Day’.

My life seems to be rather plagued with decisions these days. Paper or plastic. Continue my schooling for the next three years or jump on board with my old employer. London or San Francisco. So many choices.

One decision we made last night is to fire the cute cleaning guy and his assistants. We were promised excellence. “We’ll pull out all the furniture, clean all the window sills and scrub down the baseboards.” We received mediocrity. Hardly any furniture was moved. Heck, doors weren’t even moved so that they could sweep behind them.The dust bunnies barked and informed us that the “The Grand Spring Cleaning” was a disappointment in many ways. Agnes Destructo did much better back in her day in our old house. So now we are on the hunt for a cleaning service again.

My second day back to work is going splendidly. I am finding myself back in the groove with ease. I’m reading up on Windows Vista so that I’ll be ready to help those that need assistance when I start answering the phones (which is most likely tomorrow). The group has had some personnel changes since I was last there and I’m finding the vibe to be a little more cohesive. I’m happy with the decision I made last week; let’s see how I do with a five hour class tonight after a full day at work. Earl has promised a light supper when I get home. Now there is something to look forward to. I might augment the meal with a Guinness.

It probably wouldn’t be prudent to augment my lunch with a Guinness. That’s a decision I should probably stick to.

Last summer I talked about Saranac Thursday Nights. A really popular pastime here in the Mohawk Valley, it’s a Thursday night “happy hour” celebration at the local brewery. There are lots of people there, bands play on a good sized stage and all in all great setup in an adjoining parking lot to the brewery. Folks from all walks of life get together and down a few brews and have fun. In fact, I was hesitant to sign up for my summer Physics class because it conflicted with Saranac Thursday Night for a few weeks.

Last night the first Saranac Thursday kicked off the season at 4:00 p.m.

By 5:00 p.m., flames were shooting out of one of the buildings of the brewery.

At 11:00 p.m., on my way back from delivering music to the bar, I noticed that the fire continued. It was a beautifully clear night, aside from the thick smoke that hung over the City of Utica. It was declared “under control” this morning around 7:30.

Full coverage of the fire is available here.

The owners of the F.X. Matt Brewing Company have said that they’ve been around for 120 years and consider this nothing more than a “speed bump”. Saranac Thursdays will be back, possibly as early as next week.

More importantly, Schultz and Dooley will live on.

Tomorrow the cleaning crew comes to the house for the first time. We haven’t had a housekeeper since the days of the old house back in 2003. I guess there’s four of them coming tomorrow to do the big initial cleaning. Naturally we are busy picking up the house tonight and making it less cluttered so that the cleaners don’t think we’re the slobs we are.

I was suppose to be working this week but I haven’t heard back on the job interview yet, so I’ll just have to make myself scarce tomorrow. I’m good at that.

Today’s big adventure was a trip to the dentist. Yesterday morning I woke up with incredible pain in one of my bottom teeth (which I now know to be #19) and it wasn’t a momentary stab of pain, it was a long, continuous lightning bolt through my mouth. Now, I have a very high tolerance for pain and can just about withstand anything but this pain in my tooth was nearly blinding me.

After swishing some salt water, spreading Oral-Gel over the tooth, hoping and praying, brushing my teeth ten times and swishing more salt water, I got the pain down to something manageable. I was able to make it through Thursday without the blinding sensation again.

The pain returned for an encore this morning.

I did the whole routine again and called the dentist. They were able to squeeze me in this afternoon. After sitting in the chair waiting for the dentist, and watching an entire episode of “The People’s Court” and “Montel” in the process, the dentist shot into the exam area for a total of six minutes to let me know that my teeth are generally in good condition aside from that one tooth that needs a root canal. I have another tooth that’s a little cranky and will need it’s filling freshened up, but the most important matter is the need for the root canal. This would be my first root canal. My other fillings, nearly 30 years old, are holding up quite well. I guess my manic teeth brushing is doing what it’s suppose to do.

The dentist gave me some prescriptions for some wonderful drugs, including some antibiotic that doesn’t end in “cillin” since I’m allergic to those and a pain killer. The pain is gone and the antibiotic seems to be doing the trick. He advised to not call the root canal guy until after the holiday weekend so that the antibiotic could do it’s trick first.

So I’ll be a little loopy for Memorial Day.

The big problem with this whole scenario is that I am a college student that doesn’t have dental insurance at the moment. Root canals aren’t cheap. I’m looking forward to getting the problem taken care of but I’m not looking forward to the actual procedure. Then again, does anyone really enjoy a root canal?

Thank the universe for my high tolerance of pain.

This morning the camper dealership called to let us know that the camper was ready for pickup. It’s pumped and primed and ready for camping season, which usually starts Memorial Day weekend in these parts. Eager to get the camper and Jeep back into our hands, I decided to walk to the dealership. Yesterday’s walk was quite enjoyable; I was sure the reverse direction would be equally as fun.

Mother Nature likes to play games. As I made my way up the driveway I noticed that it was quite chilly but the sun was peeking out here and there behind the clouds. It had been raining earlier, but it appeared to have stopped for a while. A brisk walk would help keep the chill under control.

I had walked about a mile (out of 2 1/2) when Mother Nature decided that the butter was really Chiffon and therefore she decided to pull a whammy: lots of wind and a downpour. Since I was nearly halfway between home and my intended destination and had little choice but to get wet.

And wet I got.

Luckily, there’s a shopping plaza along the walk so I was able to stop and dry off for a bit. Soaked to the skin, I watched the rain fall and subsequently stop. The sun peeked out once again.

After a few moments I resumed my walk, leaving the safety of the plaza’s roof behind. That’s when Mother Nature decided to wave her hands again and introduce round two of her little hissy fit.

Undeterred, I continued the walk to the camper dealership, very wet and very irritable. The man at the counter barked the amount due at me, I wrote him a soggy check and off I went. Naturally, it stopped raining once I hopped into the Jeep.