A Busy Day

As compared to the last couple of days, this day was nuts. I was at work most of the day and we had a new resident move in and that's always crazy with lots of paperwork to do.

Plus when you work where I work, you have other stuff going on at the same you're doing said paperwork and have to keep up with the other residents as well. PLUS, if you work with whom I work, you have to deal with the crazy chaos that the bosses create as well. "Do this, oh and this. Yes, I know you're eating dinner after doing paperwork and work all day, but do this now please." And with one of our bosses, well, she is Chaos Incarnate. She is such a "do-er" that no sane human could possibly keep up but she expects you to.

So, all in all, it was extremely busy, constant paperwork, almost all day long, constant badgering by boss and residents. And, I'm wide awake as the night comes on... bah.

A Nest With a Face In It

Wow, I got up and went to staff meeting at work which is two hours. I came home and watched a little bit of TV and read and fell asleep face down in The Nest, for 7 hours, woke up at 8pm. Bah, my whole day "off" gone just like that.

I've been so tired lately and for some reason, I'm not sleeping. I usually have insomnia but this is above and beyond, wide awake until 4am kind of insomnia and my Ambien does not appear to be working.

So The Nest is where we have a futon (hauled off the curb from down the street, in pretty good condition, or it wouldn't have entered the house), leaned up against a bookcase (can't see in this photo), it's 90 degree angle to the other bookcases you can see that hold the videos and craft books. We watch TV there and recently, I've been curled up there, sleeping/napping as well.

So that's The Nest with a face in it. Mine, flat down. Passed out.

Nothing Day

Even more tired today, feeling quite blank with a bit of depression loitering around in the dark recesses of my mind.

So I had a nothing day today. Just poked around on the computer and watched TV. And slept.

That's all.

Crazy Day

Days always seem crazier when you're tired. And I was tired today when I got off work. Although aren't I always tired? Seems that way. I got home and waited for a call from one of our financial coaches who didn't call and then left to go take a bunch of e-trash to Green Citizen, a green oriented recycling depository for e-trash and we had a bunch. Tons of VHS tapes, old music cassette tapes, 5.2 and 3.5 floppy disks, a dead portal foot heater, my old and up to the point Marty pulled out a VHS tape quite violently, trusty Marantz VCR I had for years, and an old laptop.

On my way down to Green Citizen, I stopped by Radio Shack to give my new VCR/DVD recorder over for repair as the VCR never worked on it. They reported it was a replacement plan only so I had to take the thing downtown with me. You don't leave stuff in your car downtown. But off I went, grumbling that nothing is easy.

But I think I took the wrong route to get down there, driving down O'Farrell and into the Financial District, the cesspool of hoity-toity commercialism with some asshole in a big truck behind me who seemed to deem it necessary to blow his horn right when the light turned green and I wasn't rocketing from my stopped position. I was sorely tempted to give him the finger but I refrained. Praise me.

Once I got down there, parking was, as usual for that area, a bitch. And the whole time driving, it felt like I was going to run over someone, hit something or someone was going to hit me. Traffic just seemed strange and people seemed weird. I got back in the car and had to wait about ten minutes to pull into the turn lane and paused to let a guy go by in the crosswalk and he stops in the middle of the street, in the crosswalk to glare at me as if I had actually hit him. I wonder what he thought, looking at me, with my face all pinched up from the driving anxiety I was having and my concern about being slight inside the crosswalk. I saw the dude, I was not going to hit him in anyway. Apparently he thought so and wanted to make it clear to me that he thought I was being an asshole. I looked him in the eye but barely acknowledged him. I know my brows were in my hair, I was so scrunched up as if I had hit him.

Finally I got home and was feeling irritable and bitchy. But at least I did get some errands done.

Worms!!!

They make my hair itch.

So at work today, first day back after a week off, which is always hard coming back but eventually, my body quickly "forgets" all that nice time off as if it never happened. And as always, work has its "unique" challenges. Although this time, a different resident of our house than the usual.

I discovered that the house cat, our cute Nooby, has worms. I discovered this while he was sitting on my lap and he got up and jumped off and there was a white grain of rice on my hand that was moving upon closer inspection. Well, I've had dogs, I knew instantly what it was and I can tell you that my hair didn't stop itching for the rest of the night.

I did the research to find out how transferable it is to humans as I do have a house full of residents to consider. Most likely tapeworms, although I thought it might have been roundworms at first, which apparently are more transmittable than tapeworms, whew. But still... ICK!

I made sure I washed my hands. I made sure my co-worker Laura washed her hands. I made sure all the residents washed their hands! We warned them about not letting the cat on their beds and their laps for a while. And then, poor kitty, we locked him up in the laundry room for the night with his bed, food and water and litter box. Tomorrow (hopefully!!) he will go to the vet to receive de-worming treatment.

He was not happy about being locked in, since he normally gets to be a love pig and sleep with any resident of his kingly choice. Here I am with my uber 'biner house keys, comforting said pissed kitty before locking up his worm dropping ass for the night.

Scooters and Directions, Oh My!!

I take a couple of online courses at the City College of San Francisco, a fairly souped up version of a community college. Yes, I have a Master's Degree but I can now take classes in whatever I want.

So, this semester I'm taking Beginning French and Astronomy: the Solar System both online because I'm still trying to put an internship in somewhere. At some point. If I can ever find one that doesn't interfere with my work schedule. Ha. I see that happening.

In any case, some online classes have a mandatory on-campus orientation, some optional. My French class was optional but I decided to go and it was fun. My Astronomy orientation was mandatory and was today. So off I went to attend. I really like the teacher and wish I could take it face to face. It's also a very mathy course which I'm not looking forward to but should still be interesting. I'm not so attached to the grade in this or the other Astronomy course I took last semester by telecourse with the same teacher. I love teachers willing to swear in class. He's got a good sense of humor and I have always believed that humor makes learning more fun and also makes it stick.

When I came out of the orientation, I noticed I had three missed calls and one voicemail on my cell phone (I had it on silent). So I checked it and there's my husband: "Uhm, it looks like the scooter was stolen, I've made a police report, give me a call." My heart just dropped out of my chest so I called back howling, "What!! Oh my gods!!!" He went in for coffee, came out and it was gone. He wasn't sure if he'd left the lock on or not. I was so upset. Nice new scooter and my personal means of transportation (shared between us but he has the truck) and with the need for a new car on top of this and not knowing how my insurance worked with this kind of thing, I was near tears.

I know that the old, past trusty red scooter wouldn't make it to work as trustily as it used to and definitely not to the supervision group that I need to start going to in order to make up the MFT hours that I'm going to start losing on January 31, 2008. I mean, look at it, it's held together with red duct tape (to match, of course). It's smaller than the new scooter and feels and sounds like your riding a lawn mower. I don't know how I ever rode that poor thing. I don't know how I ever waited so long to get a new one.

The new scooter is very highway capable and could make the 45 minute to an hour drive down to the supervision meeting. Even after I dropped it, it's been trundling along without issue. In fact, it started up right after the accident, again without issue. It's bigger and more stable than the old one, with bigger wheels and engine. And, damnit, we practically just bought it. It doesn't have tape on it. We still owe Marty's mom a bunch of money for it, well, all the money for it. And to me, the thought of having to figure out another means of transportation as well as owing this money for a bike that might never be returned, being afraid that my insurance would not cover any of it (which it does, thankfully, a good reminder to know one's policy!!), and having to get a new vehicle for Marty... well, I was petrified.

But I tried to marshal myself as I drove home (I had the truck due to recent rain). I tried to come up with different ideas such as the city car share programs and I also had the thought to carefully ask my husband if he remembered properly where he parked it. It's not an off base question. There have been times, not often but they have happened, that we've come out of a restaurant or various venues and he's turned the wrong way to go off to whatever vehicle we had parked. So I was going over the question in my head, playing out different ways of asking it, because I know my mouth and energy get pissy even when I want to control it. "So, uhm, I'm only asking this as a 'be certain' kind of question, but are you sure you parked it where you thought it was taken from?" and etc.

So I get home and see my husband walking up towards the house with his motorcycle helmet with a sheepish look on his face, saying as I get out of the car, "Uhhh..." I say "You forgot where you parked it?" and he says yes, this is so. He apparently had called while I was driving home but my phone was still on silent. I burst into tears on the spot. It was a bit much to deal with.

So I drove him over to where he said he remembered he had parked it and there it was, sitting patiently, waiting for us, with the lock on. I think we both gazed upon it in intense relief. I know I certainly did. We drove home in convoy, parking and locking the bike at home. We were both wiped out by it all.

So that was the bike incident.

On another note, some folks asked me for directions while I was walking to the grocery store and I was able to point the way with ease. In my mind that means I'm a San Franciscan. My city that I know how to tell others to get around in. Woot!!

A Rainy Day In

Not much going on today.

Other than it's raining enough to make San Francisco float away. Just coming down constantly. Marty says it will stop Monday. Oh yay.

We went to couples therapy this morning; something we still after years although we only go twice a month these days. Rough session. But we made it through and started working our way back up to a semblance of civility for the rest of the day. We're getting much better at that.

I suggested on our way home that we pick up some movies so we didn't get home and go, "Oh, let's get some movies." and have to go back out again.

So we got Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer and The Kingdom. I'd seen the sequel (Fantastic 4) in the theater but wanted to see it again and Marty, in his infinite and movie-judging wisdom, said, "That sounds like a good little piffle." See what I mean?

The Kingdom was pretty good if not quite intense. Story of an attack on an American contractor's compound in Saudi Arabia and the FBI team sent to investigate. I didn't even know that the FBI went international. But I guess it's technically American interest even if on foreign soil? It was well done and seemed to be making more commentary on the situation rather than just a shoot 'em up movie, which is what I was expecting. I recommend it.

Lollygag

I decided to call in sick from work today, due to the cold Marty gave me. Which means I had and have Monday morning to Sunday morning off this week and that's nice. Plus the cold seems to be running through fairly quickly although I have my doubts because no cold with me ever runs through quickly, usually they last a couple of weeks for me. But we'll see. Feel rotten today though. Mostly just sitting around playing WoW and Marty playing his new game Age of Empires, some turn based type strategy PC game.

Mostly just hanging. I think it's raining. Big surprise there.

Satisfaction

I like the song but when I first watched it....

For some reason, I found the first minute or so extremely creepy. I mean, she looks like some kind of gaunt zombie and with the very slow looking up.... Blearg!! Shivers!!

Heath Ledger

Today I found out Heather Ledger died. He was 28 and they still don't know what happened. Suicide or OD of some kind, or medical, unknown at this point.

Normally, these things don't really bug me. Well, unless it's an actor I like and even then, only faint strains of sympathy. But for the most part, I feel why should celebrities get all the "Oh no!! They died??!! That is SO SAD!!" when there are tons of people dying in this world PER DAY. And one person should get all the attention when they kick this mortal coil? Bah.

That said, this death bugged me a bit because I do like him as an actor. And because he was so young. And because there is no definable cause off the bat. Usually it's suicide or drugs or whatever people get themselves into. But he always seemed pretty on the level. Although Marty mentioned that he didn't seem a happy dude. Some sadness there. But still, a cute guy, a good career, a two year old daughter... but this has not stopped people before.

It's a sad thing when someone with a whole life ahead of them, be they celebrity or "regular", goes so young. So much potential snuffed out like a candle. That thread, thinking about the threads of Fate, has been cut, ended.

I hope he finds whatever he was looking for and if he wasn't, may he find something in the next life that satisfies him as much as this one did.

Germs Galore

Today when I got home from work around 12pm, I was pretty soaked. It was raining when I drove the scooter home and it was damned cold. We've been having a very cold winter, cold even for us. I know, I know. Don't laugh East Coasters, I know what you guys are going through. I used to live in the mountains of western North Carolina and I know cold. I lived in Maine from September to April and I really learned cold. But there is something weird about the chill out here in San Francisco. It seems colder than I remember NC or ME being. And it's been colder than usual. So it made the rain extremely cold as well, each droplet, many of them, feeling like ice needles until my skin went numb. But at one point, I just wanted to stop riding, get off and curl up. I felt like I just couldn't take it anymore. But I made it home in one piece, driving very slowly (considering the accident I had was in the rain).

I threw myself immediately into a hot shower and my hands and thighs were so cold, the water felt like it was scalding me. I ended up on the futon we use to sit and watch TV, face down with my head by the little useless foot heater and basically slept until 7:15pm. Marty came home somewhere in that time frame. He had a cold that came on suddenly yesterday and he napped with me a bit before Sitting and going off to see clients.

I guess I was doomed because when I woke up, I had a runny nose and felt tired and achy. Great. I had wanted to avoid this one if possible but alas, not to be.

FrankenPizza

So, as I have mentioned, the clients where I work learn to cook and all that. They have regular assigned nights, often with a cooking partner (two residents working together; we try to pair up one with little to no cooking knowledge with one who has some or a lot), and staff will help out.

The cooking schedule of partners shifted over the week and the new schedule was not posted (this is done in Menu Planning, a group which does exactly that) and none of the residents seemed clear on who was cooking when. So no one stated they were to cook today and thus had no official meal. The recreational counselor, a peer counselor (meaning she is a consumer herself of the mental health system) who is staff at Eucalyptus House, often helps out in the kitchen. So does my counterpart, Laura, who is a "day" counselor, meaning she stays for about seven hours, from 2pm to 9pm (with me on Thursday) or 11:30am to 8:30pm (on Sunday) and helps out with various tasks, from the bureaucratic to the clinical.

It's a good thing that Sarah and Laura work in the kitchen with the clients. I have a lot of patience in this job. You kind of have to. And I'm pretty good in a lot of areas except the kitchen. I have no tolerance for unskilled in the kitchen. Unkind? Probably. But I just really have a hard time not barking at people when they put the spoon they were using to stir the meal for 15 people (12 residents and three staff) into their mouths and then back into the pot again to stir. Okay, get my drift?

But Laura has tons of patience in this arena and thusly, I let her do the milieu kitchen stuff. Sarah helps out but has some strange ideas about cooking and thusly, I also stay out of the kitchen when she's cooking. I'm better at getting people to clean their rooms or do their house jobs (chores).

So Sarah steps up to get a couple of residents involved in cooking an impromptu dinner. They're lucky she was there because if a resident doesn't show up for their cooking night and hasn't made provisions to have someone else do it, and no one steps up to the plate, well, tough shit. I leave the kitchen and pantry open and they can make their own. I believe in community accountability. Oh, you want dinner? Go talk to the cook and tell them. Let them know you are not pleased when they get back home from wherever after missing making dinner for the house.

So she did manage to get a couple of people involved and eventually the call went out, "Dinner! Dinner's ready!" with the cooks going around the house like heralds, up and down the stairs, sometimes banging on bedroom doors. I wander into the kitchen and ask what had been made. A resident, one of our most functional-why-are-you-even-here clients, a really smart guy who I've had quite some interesting talks about the history of Indo-European language, says, "It's FrankenPizza." And upon seeing said dinner, exactly after the moment he said it, I burst out laughing, because indeed, it was so.

A couple of those store bought crusts they must have rustled up from the pantry, covered with straight out of the can tomato sauce and I don't mean sauce as in has other things in it like pasta sauce but really, just the old grungy tomato paste/sauce. Then browned and not even fully drained of the grease, ground turkey mashed on top in strange piles like weird hair tufts or something with a few stewed, canned tomatoes perched here and there. No cheese on one, slices of the individually sliced and packaged American "cheese" artfully draped over the other.

FrankenPizza indeed! I love this phrase. It's a keeper for sure and with so many possibilities. FrankenCasserole, FrankenCake, FrankenSoup, etc. But I have to say, FrankenPizza rolls off the tongue the best!!

Cancel or Allow?

You are facing the sad realization that you need a new car. Cancel or Allow?

Oh, how I wish I could say Cancel... Sigh.

Marty took the truck in yesterday for a tune up and some particular problems it's been having (strange squealing on start up, bucking like you've put it in the wrong gear in second, an obvious tune up needed, and the driver's side seat belt not working, probably among other things). The went over it and called today so we could give the go ahead/no go ahead for the work it needed. After finding out what would be needed to fix it, Marty walked into the bedroom where I was still snoozing and reported that we needed a new car. Apparently it's going to cost about $1200 to fix the truck and it already is twenty years old with a little more than two hundred thousand miles on it. It would be silly to put $1200 into it when that could be used for a down payment or used car. And apparently the state will give $600 for it. Poor truck. It has served quite well.

Marty and I may both have Masters Degrees and be fairly intelligent people but when it came to prospect of needing a new car, we just looked at each other in consternation. Ermm, so just how do we go about this, our looks said to each other and we both admitted having no idea. I mean, really. I can do my own taxes (for the most part), negotiate getting around on public transportation in a foreign country, probably even change the spark plugs in the truck but when it comes to buying a car, or a house for that matter, I am lost.

It's not like you get this training in school. Or even from your parents. These are the sort of things you have to learn by doing. Or a lot of research and reading the "For Dummies" series of books. Or you find someone who knows what they are doing. Either way, it's huge and scary. You want to get the right car for you. Do you get a used car, a new car? You don't want to get "taken" by a salesman, pay more than you should. And the big question, where does one find the money in their budget to pay for a new car or even a good used car.

It is such a looming subject; it feels overwhelming. Of course, I know me and I'll be staring at the screen for hours doing "How to buy a car" research. No, really, hours. I can't help it. I get taken over by the Father Ussery syndrome and I have to make sure I do it right. My father will get a new techie device and sit down to read the manual from front to back and probably order a couple of books and read those as well. He's well prepared. I seem to have picked that up in my older years because I certainly didn't do it when I was younger.

I imagine I'll be the one gathering the information. Marty will do the talking. Because as we know, the Aries shouldn't be allowed to speak in these situations. They get too mouthy.

I'll keep you updated on the whole affair.

Cloverfield

If you've seen a movie in the past several months, you've likely seen the trailer to Cloverfield, although I don't think it had that name several months ago (at least posted in the theater trailers). You know the one, with the big something attacking New York and the Statue of Liberty's head bouncing down the street, hand held camera film style. (Poor New York, they always seem to take the abuse in film and in real life).

So I saw Cloverfield today with Marty. And I have to say, it was a pretty effective thriller.

I never saw the Blair Witch Project or any other similar style film. But I was quite impressed, if not a bit nauseated, watching this filming style. It was pretty chaotic, considering the "camera man" is often running for his life and was just some guy given over the duty of taking testimonials for his friend at the party that the movie basically begins with. So the camera angles are what you would expect, shots of the ground, wild whipping to the side to look down a street, crazy bouncing around. It gets a bit hard to take considering the entire movie is filmed this way, but it is a very effective way to create the tension you feel watching the movie. You know as much as the little band of people running through the city. And these people aren't heroes, they are just regular folks, previously having a going away party for a friend. You know, because of the implicit set up limitations of the filming, the movie is going to likely end in one of two ways: they die, they escape. They aren't going to be the ones to kill the big something thrashing New York, or do anything amazing or fantastic in the scheme of grand scale. All in all, they do handle the situation pretty well. Well, PTSD is going to be a big factor later!!

There was definitely some intense footage, mostly in the beginning when you first see the explosion, the statue head rolling down the street and the Empire State Building crumpling in the distance. Again, I say, poor New York. Some reviewers have reacted to this part of the film, feeling that it plays on the tragedy of 2001, engaging in emotional manipulation, that the scenes are too close to home. Indeed, the people who come up to the top of the roof from the party to see if they can find out what's going on after the first rumble they feel, ask "Is it another terrorist attack?" Plus the building falling in the background. Sure, I can why folks might think that. I didn't get that sense though, that there was deliberate manipulation going on.

It could have been any city in the US, although yes, New York definitely has a history, so was this a "good" choice for setting of the film? I think I would challenge that. What, are we going to try to erase what happened by not filming in New York, by not filming awful things happening anywhere in the world? I was pretty irritated when I learned that the first Spiderman (I think it was the first one), had erased the Twin Towers from the movie because it had been filmed before they went down and and released after. The filmmakers felt it would be too traumatic to keep them in there. So they digitally removed them. Wow. But, it doesn't work that way. You don't get rid of trauma by just trying to erase it. It has to be processed.

Heh. Shut up, Marty. You see, I hate processing trauma.

But I do recognize that it has to be done. And the only way that you do it, is to face it, work with it, through it, not to erase it and try to pretend that it doesn't exist or avoid it by skipping over it. It might be hard to see New York under attack by a big something and seeing those buildings explode and fall in the movie but it's there, so deal with it. Don't get me wrong, it was an absolute horrible thing that happened there in 2001. And absolute horrible things happen all over the world, every day. I'm just saying...

Don't erase it. Be with it. It's the only way to heal it.