Ponderings and Musings

Today I told my supervisor that I’m taking Monday off. I’ve accumulated enough comp time this week for a little R and R and because I want to be a good team player, I’m taking Monday off so that it doesn’t conflict with anyone else’s plans.

I wonder if he was amused by my proclamation.

I am constantly trying to read people, analyze situations and basically get a grip on the reality around me. At first I read a “sigh” when I told him I wanted Monday off, a quick “fsck” and then I finally got an o.k. So I went with it. It should be interesting in that I’ll be on-call until Monday at 8 a.m. Since I won’t be at work at freedom time, I hope I am still able to resist the urge to chuck my pager into the canal.

My pager and I have a love/hate relationship. I love it when it’s off, I hate it when it’s complaining about something. We’ve become so connected that I almost always reach for it before it even goes off, like some sort of weird psychic vibe is telling me that it’s time to be SuperTech. Earl is always asking me as I reach for the pager before it beeps, “How did you do that?” “It’s a gift.”, I usually reply. I can just see myself on “Who Wants To Be A Superhero?”. “Uh, what’s your superpower?” “I’m able to detect Motorola pagers before they ding.”

Thrilling. Watch out Lex Luthor, I’m going to intercept your pages from your henchmen, insert triumphant laugh here. Wonder Woman will end up hating me because she’ll have to lug me around in the invisible jet because I can’t fly on my own. I’ll have to share a seat with Aquaman (he can’t fly either)which could be a bummer since I don’t want his slimy, seaweedy hands on my knee, I don’t care how big his shoal is.

So what to do on Monday. I think I’ll sleep in and then do some road geeking for the website. With the pager off.

When did we, the American People, stop expecting perfection and start accepting “o.k.” when it comes to things? My goodness, these days if you go to Wal*Mart (Always White Trash, Always), you’re grateful if a) the cashier doesn’t slap you across the face for interrupting her time at her station let alone actually thanking you for your patronage and b) you’re happy that whatever you bought actually works/is edible/doesn’t blow up. We’ve come to accept that the newest version of Windows any expensive computer program won’t be perfect, but maybe the next version will be for twice the price. We’re absolutely giddy that the washing machine we bought lasted five years, when our parents and grandparents expected the same sort of purchase to last twenty years!

Why do we put up with this?

Why don’t we care anymore?

Why is it acceptable to be mediocre these days? Why don’t people expect perfection or at least an attempt in that direction?

I’m finding this quite maddening.

This morning I jumped out of bed a half hour earlier than usual and went for a two mile walk. Not a big deal to many, but for me to jump out of bed thirty minutes earlier than my usual time is quite an accomplishment.

I’ve been walking every morning this week before heading to work. I wonder if the extra burst of exercise is responsible for the run of good days I’ve been having. Hmmm, something to ponder.

Last night, Earl approached me with a task that needed to be done. It’s something that I absolutely dread because it strikes terror right to the bottom of my soul, but what has to be done has to be done, is what he tells me, so I suck it up and go into the computer room and ready myself for 30 minutes of sweat, worry and nerves.

It was time to balance the checkbook.

Earl and I have a really good way of working our finances. Everything we earn gets dumped into accounts that we have equal access to. Our philosophy is that we both contribute 100% of our income to kitty; there is no “mine” nor “his”. Everything is “ours”. And yes, that includes the Acura.

It’s a really good system that I highly recommend for everyone in a committed relationship, except when it comes to balancing the books.

You see, in today’s world of instant accessibility through the marvels of modern technology, it’s really easy to buy things. Bright shiny things. Things that beep. Things that remind you of your childhood. Things that bring you a smile.

Back when ebay was a reasonable place to do make a purchase I bought lots of stuff there. I’d always neglect to write the transaction down, since Earl is the only one with access to our financial records (thank God), and then checkbook balancing time would come along and I’d have to explain a dozen or so transactions to PayPal that weren’t recorded. I’m pretty much over the whole ebay thing these days, plus I strive to make sure I print out receipts if I spend money so that he can record it. But I still get all twitchy and nervous when he announces he needs help balancing Quicken.

So, I yell out an amount and he clicks a little checkmark next to it in the electronic register.

“$12.95”!

“For whom?”, he asks.

“Uh, um, put PayPal.”, as it’s really some foreign company in a different hemisphere. Then he asks me the zinger.

“What category?”

I turn red and say “porn”. Being a smartass, he’ll usually say something like “twink, kink or bear?”

So I respond with something equally fun like “two out of three ain’t bad”. Once in a while, I’ll just say “other” which causes him to cock an eyebrow and then turn back to the computer. “Did you get to keep the download or is there a time limit on it.”

“I have 17 more days of unmitigated enjoyment.”

And it goes on and on until the numbers match up and Quicken makes a little ka-ching noise. He then drops the Purchase Order Threat on me in which I will have to submit a purchase requisition to him, in triplicate and he’ll sign it with approval if I’m deemed worthy.

Hey, if it gets me something shiny or better yet, a “two out of three”, I’m game for anything.

I believe that all meteorologists should stop fooling the public and come clean about the profession. They should just admit that they roll the dice from an abandoned Yahtzee! game and bank that the fates will turn up the right combination to match Mother Nature’s plan for the day.

The weatherman has been saying that this weekend was going to be “picture perfect”, both at home and here at camp.

A quick glance at Doppler shows our home in the midst of a thunderstorm and it’s been raining here at camp.

Let’s face just face facts and stop kidding ourselves. Mother Nature is going to do what she wants, when she wants and where she wants. There’s no telling what’s on her mind. We may think that we’re going to be high and dry for the weekend, but that’s where she’s shows a sense of humor. “Let them be showered for a bit.”

I guess it keeps us humble.

Earl and I are readying ourselves for our long camping trip this weekend. We’re planning on leaving for Hillside around noon today.

It’s good to have comp time from on-call.

I turned 38 today. The phone has been ringing off the hook with well wishes from my family this morning. It certainly does make a boy feel loved! I took a moment to take a look around me, at myself and at all that’s bubbling about in my life today and decided that it’s all good. I have no regrets and no complaints at all. I probably could work up a rant if I wanted to but I’ll save that for another time.

I did something this morning that I have never done before. I overslept. And I didn’t just oversleep by 15 minutes or so. No, I overslept by 1 1/2 hours.

I woke up when I should have been leaving for work.

So I rammed around the house, in a surprisingly bemused mood by the whole thing, and was only 20 minutes late for work after all was said and done.

A residential building on Manhattan’s Lower East Side blew up this morning around 9 a.m. The White House has been quick to tell everyone that this is not terrorism related. As of right now they’re saying it could have been a gas leak or something, not that that makes it all better or anything.

I don’t think I would do well living in the Big Apple these days. There’s too many variables; tunnels, subways, honking cars, skyscrapers, ships, boats, planes, automobiles; I’d have way too much to worry about. We live over three hours away near a city that has little to entice a terrorist organization and I’m jumpy enough with low flying airplanes, contrails that do U-turns and the like. I’d be worried about the couple of million people around me if I lived in New York.

When the fire trucks head through downtown, I wonder if they’re headed for the tallest building in the county, which clocks in at 16 stories. After hearing the news stories about how big of a target the local nuclear power plants are, I wonder about the planes I see flying over Lake Ontario. Right after 9/11 the local news agencies did everything short of marking a map with “Aim Here”. I’m afraid for our own stupidity.

We live near a former Air Force Base that has been converted to a “Technology Park”. One of the companies that moved in services various shapes and sizes of airliners. When a huge 747 looms over our house on approach for servicing (on one of the few runways long enough to accomodate a shuttle landing, by the way), I remind Earl that the plane flying over the house “is going in for repairs.” I’m happy when a wing doesn’t fall off.

I don’t strive to sound like a paranoid freak, especially since I believe what will happen, will happen, but with all the unrest in the world it’s hard to be totally at ease. There are too many crazy people running around. There are too many crazy people in positions of power. And I just have this uneasy feeling jumping around in the back of my head.

I hope it’s all for nothing.

I try to be rather upbeat from time to time when I blog. I like to give readers that uplifting, satisfying, happy feeling one gets after eating a delicious meal, watching an award-worthy movie or taking a well needed dump.

But I’m not feeling it today. I’m trying to, I really am. But the world is not living up to my expectations today and instead of ranting on about the ills of the world, I guess it’s just better to not say anything at all.

As a child I learned two important lessons from my mother:

1. Never hand wash dishes when you can run a second load in the dishwasher.
2. Don’t say anything if you don’t have anything nice to say.

So today I’m just going to smile, nod my head a lot and just try to get through the day.

Tonight Earl and I are heading out with the camper to a state park for the weekend. The weather is suppose to be gorgeous. I’m sure the experience will wash away the stress from today.

I really hate speakerphones. I despise them. When I speak with someone using a speakerphone, I feel that I’m told indirectly, “Don’t think that you’re important enough that I need to stop what I’m doing to talk to you. Just keep on yapping and I’ll mutter some yeps and nopes.”

I rank speakerphones one notch below cellphone use in public. This morning I spoke with a customer who was using a speakerphone. She spoke at bullhorn levels into the inspid little device to tell me she was having a problem with her e-mail. She would ask me a question, I would give her an answer and then she’d confer with someone that would whisper so I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

That’s just rude.

First of all, the conversation sounded like it was coming in from Venus. Secondly, she was multitasking way too much. When the customer wasn’t speaking at abnormally loud volumes, she was either drinking coffee, eating something or speaking in hushed tones with the suspicious little man in the shadows. Maybe I’m a little bit paranoid but I like to know who I’m speaking with and that I have their attention.

Earl is a very busy corporate executive. He earns lots of money for his company and all involved (including me) are quite proud of him. However, early in our relationship he learned that the speakerphone thing isn’t going to work for me. I’d call him up and answer his greeting over his speakerphone with “hi”. He’d say “hello”. I’d say “hi”. He’d say “hello”. This would go on until he was frustrated enough to pick up the receiver and pay attention to me in which I would then have a delightful conversation of whispering sweet nothings and my asking him to bring home cat litter or something equally mundane.

I could be a little paranoid. Back in my radio days, the morning show team would take great delight in calling their boss (me) around 6:00 in the morning and put me on the air. “Ha ha! J.P. is asleep! Ha ha!” After telling them several times to knock it off, I finally responded to one of their questions with a “How the fsck should I know?” or something equally profane in which the phone went dead and they learned to take Station Daddy seriously.

We have a support tech in our group that likes to use his speakerphone. We get to hear all sorts of fun throughout the office. “What did you say?” “I said press CTRL-ALT-DEL twice.” “Press catcha all mice?” This goes on and on.

I seriously miss Ma Bell and her rotary dial.