Susie and the City

Atlanta's Own Broadway

2011-09-30T20:18:00.005-04:00

I've known about the historic Fox Theater On Peachtree Street for a while but hadn't had the opportunity to see a show there—until last night when my friend Mike from work took me, along with his son and daughter-in-law, to see Wicked. It was a show I was familiar with, after living in direct view of the massive 30' tall Wicked ad outside my apartment window at the Gershwin when I lived in NYC during 2005; I was on 50th Street across from that theater.

My introduction to the interior of the Fox theater was a view of the fabulous starry ceiling as I stepped up the carpeted steps toward the entrance to our seating area. The sky was an expansive, realistic dusk-blue that, for a split second, made me think I was approaching an outdoor theater. I knew it wasn't, by this sky is so convincing that I had to take a double-take.

After I sat down, I looked around and thought, "Man, this is the biggest theater I've ever been in...with the possible exception of Radio City Music Hall." And it is. The Fox seats nearly 5,000 people. And last night's show had a full house.

The friends I was with were a blast. We had a lot of laughs during dinner before walking over to the Fox, just a few blocks from my office. Topping off a fun dinner was a fantastic show!

The performance was incredible, with the actress playing the Wicked Witch, Elphaba, stealing the show. Her voice was stunning, and her harmony with Good Witch Glinda was unbelievable. The set was obviously expensive—very extravagant. My sister told me today that shows like that arrive at the theater in multiple semi-trucks requiring extensive unloading and setup.

But, along with the performance was the ingenius story line. If you aren't familiar with Wicked the musical, it is based on Gregory Maguire's 1995 book Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. I started the book about four years ago but never finished it. Wizard of Oz fans will love the tale, which describes how the wicked witch came to be killed by Dorothy.

Or was she? Was Glinda really a good witch? Was Elphaba born wicked, or did she have wickedness thrust upon her? How did the Tin Man, Scarecrow, and Lion come to be? Did the wicked witch cast those spells? Who was Wizard of Oz? Who did the house really fall on, and why? How did the flying monkies get their wings?

These and other questions are answered in Wicked. I highly recommend it. The twists and surprises and one-liners will entertain everyone. It offers a whole new perspective on a long-held view of what we all know well as the story of Oz. It is so neat to think of Oz in a new light, and that's what made this show really special. For baby boomers and their parents, this story fills in the gaps. It adds intrigue, excitement, and background to one of the best movies of all time.

The show was more than a treat. I warn you, it is a long show of nearly three hours. By intermission time at 9:30 I was approaching my normal bedtime. By 10PM (after a 10-hour work day), I was pooped. But I continued to enjoy the show, right up to the impactful finale. But that's all I'll say. You gotta see it yourself!

It Sucks Getting Old

2011-09-16T14:37:00.003-04:00

It's funny, when you are my age (45+), you find that more and more of your email content is about your latest malady. Today while I was at my orthopedist's office, I realized that my boss is right, I do need a body cast.

While at Emory today, I got status X-rays of my lumbar spine to send to my TDR back surgeon in Seattle who replaced my L4-L5 disc in 2005. But I was wearing my knee brace to stabilize my knee, which has been in pain (for a long time) due to inflammation of the IT band, a tendon that runs along the outside of the upper leg from hip to knee, which is caused either by gluteus medius tendinopathy or hip arthritis that the doc diagnosed via MRI several days ago. A common runner's malady.

But, that's not what I saw my doc about today! I was there for severe neck pain and tingling in my right hand. Turns out, I have a disc herniation at C5-C6. Not the first time.

This year has been a doozie for me. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever know a day without pain. I actually asked the doc if I have some sort of major disease that is degenerating tissue (beyond the degenerative disc disease and spondylosis that I was diagnosed with years ago). He said, "No," and informed me that it's mostly genetic. That's when he asked if my parents had disc issues. I know my dad had back pain for years, so I'll blame him. :)

I was thinking about this year and all the oddball diagnoses I've had.

- In January I strained my lower back while moving (again). Took about three weeks to recuperate fully.
- In Spring I was diagnosed with a bunion. Couldn't run till I bought wider shoes. But the thing still hurts today.
- In April, my positional vertigo kicked in for a couple weeks.
- On April 27, I suffered a Grade 2 or 3 sprain of my left ankle, had to quit running for three months, and gained three or four pounds.
- In May I had corrective LASIK in my right eye to fix the under-correction from my original LASIK. This only served to ruin my close-up vision; now I can't read my watch without reading glasses. (I keep paying people to make my vision worse. Why is that?) Note to others: Don't get LASIK!
- In June I lost a filling and had to have major restorative work done on one molar, followed by a crown on a separate cracked molar. Dental work is very expensive.
- In July, I cancelled my beach vacation to undergo a root canal on the initial tooth, followed by another crown.
- In August, my hip bursitis started acting up.
- My hip pain was later accompanied by knee pain. I gave up running (again) and stuck with swimming. I lost three or four pounds. I was diagnosed with Iliotibial Band (IT) syndrome, hip arthritis, and tendinpathy of the gluteus medius.
- At the end of August, I had a cortisone injection in my knee. Didn't help.
- Starting September 2, I took 10 days off work (finally!). But I awoke on Labor day with severe neck pain.
- The next day, I had a cortisone injection in my hip. Didn't help.
- That day, I stopped to pick up my mail and had a big thick envelope from the IRS. We all know what that means. (Does this classify as a malady? I'm going to say "Yes," primarily because of the cartwheels my stomach did for an hour after opening that envelope.)
- On September 7, I drove to Tennessee to help my sister through her knee surgery (ACL replacement + mensiscus repair). Yikes!
- While in TN, I started having tingling in my right hand and fingers. I wondered if my Carpal Tunnel Syndrome was back? Could it be? But I underwent endoscopic CTS surgery in January 2008.
- A few days later I put 2 and 2 together and realized that the tingling isn't from CTS but is a pretty good sign of a disc herniation, which is why I saw my doc today. Sure enough.... He prescribe Prednisone and pills to help me sleep.
- Next week I'm scheduled to have a numbing medicine injected in my glute to see if that helps the hip/knee/IT band issue. If that works, I might qualify for PRP injections. We shall see. Of course, those aren't covered by insurance. Gads. My medical bills are pretty steep this year.

Both my cats were sick with different things this week, as is my car. The kitties have improved, but the car now needs a brake job and a repair of the driver's side air bag. If the air bag is defective, yikes. Those are very expensive to replace. I'll just go without. After all, seat belts save lives, as I know from personal experience. More than once. The stories I could tel....

Now to address that IRS audit.... Ironically, they are trying to tax a small settlement I got from the LASIK company for botching my left eye (big time) back in 2007 with a decentered ablation. Per law, Uncle Sam can't take anything from a settlement for a physical injury, so it's (hopefully) just a matter of paperwork and time wasting - at your tax dollar expense and mine.

I'm convinced that God doesn't want me to have a vacation. Every time I try, it turns into either a household move or a painful illness. Maybe next year I'll just plan on calling in sick for a week. Yeh, that'll fool 'em.

Jelly Befriends New Fuzzy

2011-08-20T10:55:00.009-04:00

It's hard to tell from the photo, but this is Jelly the cat with her fuzzy toy in her mouth. It took several weeks, but last month Jelly finally gave up the search for her long lost fuzzy and ceased shunning the other fuzzy. She has since treated it as if it is her own baby. We don't know how the old (nearly identical) fuzzy was lost. It was never found.

At first, Jelly pined for it and wouldn't have anything to do with the other fuzzy. But eventually she saw the light and everything is back to normal at home. She carries her fuzzy around in her mouth, tail held high, as if to say, "Mine."

Yesterday I finally got to spend time with my family after nearly a month. We shared a lunch of Dim Sum and celebrated August birthdays. Work has been brutally busy, so I haven't had a full weekend off in nearly a month. Our team is so severely understaffed that most of us are working OT just to keep up with day-to-day tasks. We have mentioned it to our boss on a number of occasions, but the budget is tight and the only thing he can do is pledge that we will work "smarter" going forward.

For those who have not spent a lot of time in the corporate world, "working smarter" is the de facto management answer to doing more with less. In reality it is just a euphemism for "work more hours and have less fun." But I'm used to it. It's been this way for as long as I've been in the technology business post-Microsoft. At Microsoft I don't recall suffering resource issues. Ever. Of course, that comes from perpetually having billions of cash at hand.
Recessions are tough on everyone.

To compound the stress of overwork, my nephew Jason is doing his second tour in Afghanistan right now. I have to admit, though, his positive attitude is what sustains our family through this worrisome time. Imagine wearing heavy combat gear in the 130-degree desert heat while conducting patrols from inside the stifling steel encasing of a Humvee. Now imagine that the AC is broken in your Humvee. Keep in mind you cannot roll down the windows in a military vehicle of this sort. There is no moving air.

Set your kitchen oven on 200 degrees, crawl inside, and close the door.

Personally, I wouldn't last five minutes in those circumstances. Jason has been subjected to such torment since early June. Bless his heart. But Jason has come to accept what he calls this "medieval torture device," indicating that it comes in handy when they have to give rides to people they don't like. On the bright side, says Jason, "At least I don't have to worry about getting fat on this deployment."

Making matters worse this summer was my four major dental treatments and having to postpone my long-awaited July beach vacation. Of course, the thousands I had to shell out for all this work only added insult to injury.

So it's been a tough summer.

But things brightened up a couple weeks ago when my sister's teenage son Connor produced a video short that took the grand prize in a Clean the Air Tennessee advertising campaign. We are all so proud of Connor. The prize nets him $1,000 plus a matching grant to his school.

To view Connor's 30-second video that encourages motorists to stop idling, go to the Mission Emissions web site and click the YouTube link for the grand prize winner.

Way to go, Connor!

Why it's Called 'Laughing Gas'

2011-07-29T08:02:00.004-04:00

I've spent more time in the dentist chair in the past five weeks than I have in the past 10 years. Usually I only go once a year, to have my teeth cleaned and occasionally X-rayed. About 20 years ago, I had two cavities filled, one in each of my back molars. No problems since then—beyond a wisdom tooth getting yanked. Until this year.

I'd been thinking it was time to get my teeth cleaned, so I was on the verge of finding a dentist on my new insurance when, one weekend in June, one of those cavities fell out. The metal one. When I checked in the mirror, I was shocked at how much of that tooth was gone. I went to the drug store and got a 5-dollar emergency dental repair kit, which consists of a tiny container of puddy that hardens as it dries. I used this and it was quite successful. On Monday I made an appointment to go to the dentist on Tuesday morning.

And then work got in the way. As usual. I had to cancel my appointment when I found out the night before my appointment that my boss had scheduled a second interview with a candidate that my own brother had referred. I have the world's best boss, but he failed to communicate that tidbit with our team. I absolutely couldn't miss that interview because I was the referral source, so I cancelled my dental appointment.

It was hard getting the dentist rescheduled. When I finally got in, a full 10 days later, I realized I was in a bit of trouble. The night before, I discovered that my other molar had lost its filling too—although I don't know when—and that tooth appeared to have a substantial crack on top. Yikes. In the dentist's chair the next day, Dr. Mills didn't even go there when she saw the original tooth that had lost the metal filling. The decay was fairly serious, and extremely close to the nerve ending. Infection was just setting in. There was a huge gap in the side of the tooth, not just the top. She had a lot of restorative work to do, so I kindly asked if she just knock me out to perform this work.

That's when I learned the joys of nitrous oxide. Wheeeeee! When you are under that stuff, you just never know what you are going to find funny. I never had so much fun at the dentist's office in my life. Truly, this particular dentist has a great staff, and they all have a good sense of humor (thank goodness).

Dr. Mills ground out that tooth, put some medicine in there to prevent infection, and filled it with a temporary compound. This whole thing took two hours. Then we had to watch and wait to see if a root canal was needed. That day's tab was $470.

For my entire life, I'd heard horrible things about root canals. My July vacation was rapidly approaching, and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to make it to the beach to spend time with my two best high school buddies, Chris and Missy, and their families. When the tooth became painful a few days later, that was my signal that a root canal was necessary.

Meanwhile, I went in for yet another visit to get the other molar fixed and crowned. Another two hours in the chair. The tab for that? $1,300.

Worse came to worst, and I ended up scheduling a root canal on July 13, in lieu of my beach vacation. The root canal was done in a different office, by a doctor who does nothing but root canals all day long. That guy must drive a Bentley, because the charge for that procedure was $1,480. If he just does five of those a day, he's raking in close to two million a year. Sheesh!

But the root canal was quick and painless. It only took an hour. I was so stoned on the laughing gas that it seemed like five or six hours. I now know the meaning of the expression "going on a trip," because that's what it felt like. When I was coming out of it, I told the doctor, "Now I understand what the 60's era was all about." They must have really cranked the nitrous oxide that day. Wheeeeeee! Root canals have a bad rap; don't believe what you hear. It was a cakewalk.

Alas, it came time to go back to Dr. Mills and put a crown on the original tooth. When I walked into her office yesterday I announced, "You know, this is my third time in here in a month, and I have yet to get a single free toothbrush!" Everyone laughed.

I spent yet another two hours in her chair, watching the suspended TV while getting high. Insurance doesn't cover the $49 nitrous oxide charge, but I didn't care. I hate dental work, and I wasn't going to do it lucid.

Stoned, I asked Dr. Mills where my free toothbrushes were. She said I had to get with the staff on that. I replied, "But the staff told me to talk to you!" It was pretty funny.

They charged even more this time than for the crown on the other molar—unbelievably, more than the root canal itself. But I left with a little goody bag that included two 'free' toothbrushes.

The grand total spent on these two teeth in the past five weeks is close to $5,000. For two crowns and a root canal. That's a lot of toothbrushes. Insurance will cover about 60% of that. Hopefully. You know how it goes ("Oh, that's not covered under your policy. Read the fine print.")

I have yet to get my teeth cleaned this year. I told Dr. Mills I needed a vacation from the dental work, at least for a few weeks, then I'd come back for the routine cleaning.

Too bad you can't get laughing gas for that!

The Case of the Missing Fuzzy

2011-06-03T18:59:00.009-04:00

Today is Friday. About a week and a half ago, Jelly lost her fuzzy. This is serious business.

Jelly has a multitude of fuzzies at home, but she concerns herself with only one of them. It's a white sphere of some kind of animal fur (probably fake). Originally, when I bought it in Virginia, it had a red elastic band attached to the center, and we played with it until the elastic broke off.

After that, Jelly became quite attached to her white fuzzy. She'd carry it around in her mouth, head held high, and sometimes bat it around on the wood floor. Eventually we started a game. Each night, I would put the fuzzy on my night stand before getting in bed to read. Jelly would come in, stand up on her hind legs, and reach out to the fuzzy on the table top. Pulling it toward her with a paw, she'd grab it with her mouth, turn around, and prance out of the room with it.

Then I'd hear her squeaking and mewing with the fuzzy for a while until it was time for her to go to bed. Inevitably, the fuzzy would be missing in the morning and eventually I'd look under my big comfy swivel chair and dig it out for her.

This has gone on for well over a year. I almost always knew where to find the fuzzy—under the chair where she couldn't get to it. One time that it was missing, I searched high and low for two days. I finally found it in between the sheets at the foot of my bed.

One other time I saw it in the litter box, half buried. Fortunately, it wasn't soiled. When I returned it, Jelly was unfazed.

After we moved to our new place, Jelly started losing her fuzzy under the laundry room door; or, sometimes I'd find it in the hall closet. Most every night, it's the same game: "Find the fuzzy."

Even on evenings when I was tired and all settled in with my book, I'd get out of bed to find the fuzzy if I'd forgotten to pick it up and put it on the night stand—because Jelly would be up on her hind legs looking for it, wondering why I wasn't playing the game.

On an extended search not long ago, I found the fuzzy buried in the litter box. This time it was not clean. It was attached to a kitty poopie. I took it out and rinsed it well in hot water. After it dried, it stank. So I washed it with soap and hot water, drying it with a hair dryer. It still stunk. I was sure that Jelly would have nothing to do with it.

So I went to the toy basket deep in the closet and got out a brand new white fuzzy, cutting off the elastic string. I took it to Jelly. One sniff and it was over for that fuzzy. She blatantly shunned it. Boy was I wrong. It tried yet another fuzzy. Same deal. I finally tossed her the stinky fuzzy; she gladly picked it up with her mouth, prancing off and mewing happily.

Before the fuzzy went missing, I could line up all three nearly identical white fuzzies in front of her, swap them around (like the shell game)—and she'd still pick up only the one particular fuzzy. Like a kid with his blankie. So I've felt obligated to do everything in my power to ensure the safe return of the fuzzy.

Last Tuesday or Wednesday after lights out, I inadvertently found the fuzzy in the sheets before falling asleep and tossed it blindly on top of the night stand. The next morning it was gone, and I haven't seen it since. Over the past nine or so days I've looked everywhere—at least two or four times. It's driving me nuts. That fuzzy is nowhere to be found. This has never happened.

And it breaks my heart. Each night, Jelly comes into the bedroom, sits up on the leather bench, and peers over at the night stand longingly. She looks to me, looks at the bed and the ottoman (where I have sometimes put the fuzzy for her to retrieve), and gives up.

Last weekend after searching every pillow case, I stripped the bed and washed the sheets. I donned rubber gloves and went through the kitchen trash, piece by piece. No fuzzy. Later I took the vacuum cleaner bag outside, ripped it open, and meticulously sifted through the piles of interwoven hair and lint. I knew I wouldn't find it in there, but I wouldn't rest without checking. I went through the used kitty litter in the litter trash can, breaking it up clump by clump. It wasn't in the Dust Buster or any of the house plants. It wasn't in any drawer or under any piece of furniture in this apartment. It isn't under or behind any cushin. I couldn't find it in any pocket in my coat closet. (Like it could land there in the first place.)

The cabinets have been searched. Yesterday I went back through the lower drawers, pulling out and shaking every piece of clothing. I took every cloth grocery bag out of my car trunk and hall closet. I emptied every basket. I went through every one of my 160+ shoes. I checked around all the stereo components enclosed in my A/V cabinet, under every pillow, behind the bed headboard.

I've looked behind books on shelves. Under the bed. Behind toilets. I pulled up every rug and looked under every appliance with a flash light multiple times. I checked around the hot water heater and dryer hose. Last night I took a flash light and painstakenly peeked into the crevice behind every dresser drawer (to the best of my ability).

I'm going insane.

Yesterday, on my mom's advice, I tried rubbing catnip on one of the other white fuzzies then coaxing Jelly to make friends with it. Nope. No dice. To create a positive association, I put it next to her food bowl. I put it next to her favorite treats on the floor as she gobbled them up. No good. She wants her fuzzy. It's her baby.

Nonetheless, I am going to continue encouraging her to adopt the "other" fuzzy as her own. For the old one is gone. Gone, gone, gone. I still have a hard time accepting that, and it's tough to not keep looking. I'm not sure which one of us needs therapy.

Fuzzy being rejected earlier this evening (note Jelly's ears folding back):

Fat Cats Don't Eat Salmon

2011-05-14T18:52:00.002-04:00

It's weird, but my cat Baby practically jumps into my lap when she witnesses me sit down in my favorite chair with a salmon dinner. Salmon is one of my favorite foods, so I eat it often.

A few days ago I sat down with my salmon dinner plate on a tray in my lap. As always when eating salmon or chicken, I put one foot out in front of me to push the ottoman (that the cats are sprawled out upon) far, far away. This is primarily in an effort to alleviate Baby's pathetic begging and pleading that I am forced to endure.

This time, though Baby managed to stretch waaaaay over when I turned my head away for a split second. Before I knew it, she had a front paw on the edge of my dinner tray and a rear leg on the ottoman. Picture a cartoon character on a boat dock with one foot on the drifting boat and the other on one of the wooden planks of the pier. (Or, more appropriately, picture my sister Lisa in that precarious position. Last fall that is how she managed to tear her ACL.) Anyway, one of the two was destined to fall—Baby, or the tray of food.

It would have been a disaster if I hadn't caught the tray before it fell to the shag rug.

I got up, got Baby a little plate, and shared my (now getting cold) salmon with her, as usual.

Jelly, on the other hand, my 13.5-pound chubby cat, won't eat it. Freshly cooked salmon. It's just like my old tabby cat Martin (may he rest in peace!)—he wouldn't touch the stuff either. And it makes no sense because Jelly will eat just about anything else you put in front of her. And then continue to eat everyone else's.

But wait—allow me to tell you why I had momentarily turned my head away from my hot steaming yummy salmon dinner. It was to grab reading glasses. Why, you say, would anyone my age need reading glasses to eat dinner?!

Glad you asked. I now need reading glasses to see my plate. This enraging subject is definitely worthy of an entire epic blog post but—(just briefly)—the reason I can't see anything within five feet of my face anymore is because I made the colossal mistake of going back under the laser to have my under-corrected right eye corrected (after the LASIK incident of 2007). We won't even discuss the botched left eye today, which is still uncorrectable, except possibly by a whiz doc in British Columbia who has cornered the market on fixing decentered ablations.

No, never mind that.... I CAN'T SEE 90% of what I'm looking at, and I'M MAD.

Why do people get LASIK? Honestly, I thought the whole point of laser eye surgery was to get away from the inconvenience of glasses and contact lenses? You know how many pairs of glasses I own now, post-LASIK?? Sixteen.

Between home and work, I have two pair for computer distance, two pair for TV distance, and a total of twelve reading glasses stationed at various locations. Tonight, I discovered I need to put a pair in my car console as well for when I need to stop and read a map.

The magnification on the reading glasses I own ranges from 1.0 to 2.0 (as of now) to use at varying distances. I am not kidding. The four prescription pair of glasses I have are now useless. After my "corrective" surgery last Monday, I require 2.0 glasses to read a book. I also have to sit 12" from a computer screen, wearing 2.0 reading glasses, to do my job. Yeah, that's comfortable to do 10 hours a day.

On Tuesday when I went back for my next-day follow-up appointment, which is always a requirement after LASIK, I just sat there in the chair and cried, secretly wondering why I keep paying people to wreck my vision. I asked the doc to write me a prescription for my bad near-vision but he would not do that—at least, not for several days. He told me to come back in a week.

Thus, I will be returning to the laser doctor Wednesday to see what he can do to help me. Of course, this will mean more glasses. More money. More time away from work. More inconvenience.

Again, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting different results. Clearly, I qualify.

If anyone asks for my advice about LASIK, it is this: Do not ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER, EVER get LASIK. This is an elective surgery. It is your choice. I'd give anything now to go back to wearing contact lenses during the day and prescription glasses at night, but it is too late.

It's Baaaaaaaaack!

2011-03-22T18:18:00.002-04:00

This weekend I was talking with my sister-in-law Judy about the pending annual pollen storm that lasts at least six weeks every spring. She said she could feel it coming. Her nose told her. Judy's instincts were right on. Monday afternoon, when I reached my car outside the Marta train station, it was coated with a layer of yellow pollen. I thought, "Oh no! The pollen is baaaack!"

I think that this is the longest I've been without updating my blog. That's because I recently moved yet again. I left my dumpy old apartment in Brookhaven because I was tired of the continual maintenance problems, the thin walls, and noisy neighbors. It was also really dangerous turning left in or out of that place because it sits on one of the busiest 6-lane arterials in the city. It always made me nervous, and I witnessed numerous accidents from my balcony, right in front of the building.

So I went through the pain, expense and massive time expenditure of moving to a slightly bigger place about three miles closer to work. The end result? For $200+ more a month, I now live in a place with funny loud mechanical noises and rattling pipes. During my first six weeks here, I experienced five times the number of maintenance issues than my last place had in the 11 months I was there. (I have the spreadsheet to prove it!) It takes me 20 minutes to drive the 1.6 miles home from one of the train stations nearby, or 12+ minutes to drive the one mile from a different station. (I could run home faster than that.)

Clearly I should simply never move again. Obviously I have bad luck with moving. It's as if I've broken a mirror every 7th year of my life.

I admit, I like the apartment. It has skylights, big closets, high ceilings, ceiling fans (a necessity in the South!), a huge fenced patio, and seems much bigger than my old place. I can't hear my neighbors except when they party on their patio next to my bedroom window late at night or leave their poor little dog outside whining and pining to come back inside on the weekends. (It breaks my heart!)

One drawback is lack of covered parking. I am not used to having to scrape ice off my car - hadn't had to do that in years. I'm definitely not going to like the lack of car cover, but I'll just have to live with it.

The apartment is unique because it is above some retail shops and restaurants. I can walk downstairs and get a good dinner for 10 bucks or a pedicure for $20. It's also extremely convenient to the interstates and isn't far from downtown.

So there. Now that things have finally slowed down at home (but are insanely busy at work), I've updated my blog. Finally!!

More later.

Moving: Never a Stree-free Event

2011-01-18T13:14:00.011-05:00

This must be deja vu because I swear I've written this same post before. Moving, for me, is often a comedy of errors. Usually, if something can go wrong, it does.

Six days days before my move, I busted a toe pretty badly. Let's just say it hurt like you-know-what. Four days before my move, the worst winter storm to hit Atlanta in decades arrived. Needless to say, no one in the city raised a shovel, and the half foot of snow on the ground morphed into four inches of solid, immovable ice. Two days before my move, I strained my back (just from general moving tasks like lifting heavy dish pack boxes).

Then on Friday, I moved. That part went OK, despite the ice. I did a ton of the work myself (plus had my brother Dave's help) the day before, but for the big stuff I hired Buckhead Movers. I actually got an excellent moving crew and am still thanking God for that huge favor. It ended up costing me less than I expected because the work (@$170/hour) got done quickly. That rarely happens, I swear.

My new apartment was recently renovated. Before moving in, I didn't understand why the bathroom had this big, long, beautiful cabinet but no drawers. There was space for drawers, with cover plates over the drawer openings, but no drawers. The apartment manager-slash-caretaker—a fantastic guy by the name of Justin—looked at the old construction contract and, sure enough, the contractor had taken a shortcut. Consequently, he was called back out and installed the drawers before I moved in. Yay.

By Friday night I realized I had no hot water in my kitchen. I checked all the valves under the sink; everything was wide open. All weekend I had no hot water in that faucet. On Monday morning while I was talking to Justin about it on the phone, I tested it, and sure enough, water came out of the hot water side and heated up. This morning, I got up and there was no hot water again.

Also by Friday night I discovered that the toilet in my master bath had stopped flushing. I knew it had worked once before and just assumed one of my movers had clogged it. Justin came out Monday, plunged it a few times, and it worked. He left; an hour later it stopped flushing. . . again.

Yesterday I went in to the office for the first time in eleven days. (We were told to work remotely during the inclement weather, due to icy road conditions.) I lasted five hours sitting at my computer before I had to come home. My back couldn't handle all that sitting. It was (and still is) truly 'out.' I haven't had this kind of incapacitating back pain in five years.

Meanwhile, Justin had called his favorite plumbers; but, after 30 minutes of effort, they were unable to fix the non-flushing toilet. They replaced it with a brand new one. By the end of their two-hour visit, the hot water was working in the kitchen sink again. I couldn't wait for them to leave so I could lie down. But guess what? I woke up today, barely hobbled out of bed to feed the kitties, and there was no hot water in the kitchen again. Obviously, it's time for a new hot water heater.

Deja vu! My last apartment needed a new hot water heater too. But the difference is that the manager over at Brookhaven Condos made me suffer through three weeks of cold showers before lifting a finger to fix it.

Here's another funny story. I'd purchased a new washer/dryer at Brandsmart to be delivered on Saturday. I specifically told the salesman that I needed an 8-foot dryer hose because there is a hot water heater in the middle of my utility room. So he sells me a cheapo "expandable to 8 feet" aluminum hose, along with a 4' electrical cable. When the delivery and installation folks arrived, they couldn't install my W/D because the 8' hose is a piece of crap (once it is stretched out, it just bends and breaks), and the 4' cord was too short. We couldn't swap the washer and dryer locations because the drain hose for the washer was too short.

The delivery guy was beyond unprofessional, carrying on in quasi-English about how those stupid salesmen at the store don't know what they're doing and how "Dey only want yo' money!" I called the store and got more grief from the sales manager. He had the gall to tell me that that hose is the only kind they sell. When I informed him that I had told the sales guy specifically how much clearance I needed, he argued and said, "I can't help it if he doesn't understand English," in reference to the sales guy (who has an African accent). Note that I'd actually been pleasantly surprised at the excellent sales experience at Brandsmart—I truly liked my African American sales guy.

That racist comment really set me off.

After the sales manager argued with me some more on the phone, I said, "Take it back. Take it all back." Only then did he become nice and stop arguing. He claimed he'd refund me the lousy $25 for the dryer kit and said that if I went out and bought the necessary parts, he'd send an installation team out Monday. So, over the weekend, I went to Lowes and Home Depot. I spent nearly $50 on a better ("slinky") hose, an aluminum elbow and connector, and a 6' electrical cord.

Because the delivery guys had failed to bring product manuals, I downloaded the dryer installation guide from the Internet, and I hooked up the appliances myself. Now I need to call that sales manager back and ask to have my delivery/installation fee refunded.

Another thing I noticed and pointed out to Justin yesterday was that there are no lights underneath my kitchen cabinets. Lots of space, but no lighting. Guess what? Turns out, that work was outlined in the contract too, but the contractor (despite putting cabinet lighting in all the other renovated units) just forgot.

The plumbers were great. Before putting the toilet paper on its holder, one of them asked me, "By preference, are you under or over?" Too funny.

I said, "You're the only man to ever ask me that!" Talk about attention to detail. Needless to say, these aren't the same guys who were contracted during the renovation. As one of them said, "Contractors give me most my work." Ain't that the truth!

Last night I was in bed by 5:45PM, nursing my back. Today I stayed in bed till 11AM, and I'm on my way back to bed now. I can barely sit at all. I certainly can't get in the car and drive. Looks like I'll be working on my next day off to make up for missed work this week. And then some.

A Southern Snow Shovel

2011-01-13T07:06:00.006-05:00

I currently live in an in-city high-rise on Peachtree Road that houses hundreds of Brookhaven residents. This is one of the worst places I've ever lived. The elevators are broken much of the time—way too often. The plumbing is old and not well-maintained. Pipes burst, flooding apartments or the downstairs storage area, on a regular basis. Worse, the front office staff response to incidents like that is, "Well, it's a high-rise; water is going to flow down!" In other words, flooding is to be expected, and I should have known that before I stored all my valuables in my assigned storage bin in the basement.

I kid you not.

My hot water heater was 25 years old (at least ten years past its normal 'life'), and it took three weeks of cold showers last February and excessive coaxing to get management to replace it. They'd told me it was only about 10 years old, but the serial number displayed a manufacture date of 9/85. My icemaker didn't work when I first moved in, but the maintenance guy didn't believe me. Despite no ice falling at all in the 24 hours since I'd lowered the lever, he said it takes "days" for it to fill the bucket. A week later, they replaced the ice maker. And the kitchen faucet.

There have been dozens of other issues. Needless to say, the building management and staff here is a tad inept. I didn't expect any differently when the snow started to fall after 8PM on Sunday. A basic rule of thumb for winter storm safety is this: remove the snow while it is still snow. Later, it becomes slush; then it turns into thick, lumpy, solid ice that is impossible to drive or walk on.

As the snow fell Sunday night, as clearly predicted several days in advance, building staff didn't lift a single finger to remove the snow. Consequently, by Tuesday a solid moat of ice had formed around the building. The driveway was impassable, leaving hundreds of residents imprisoned here in the building for days.

On Day 3, I was worried. I am scheduled to begin moving today, and the movers are due here tomorrow. I finally ventured downstairs yesterday to see how the driveway looked. As I exited, I bumped into the non-English speaking groundskeeper on his way into the building. My first thought was, "Oh good, they are finally out working on the problem." That was when I looked down and realized that what he was carrying was not a snow shovel but rather a garden hoe. "Oh my god," I thought to myself sarcastically, "He thinks that's a snow shovel."

Needless to say, the 4" thick ice moat was still 100% intact.

Yes, this is the South. No, it doesn't normally snow this much. And, usually, if it does snow a significant amount, it doesn't stick (or stick around). Typically, it's gone in a day. But this was different. The weatherman clearly advised us that the storm would start Sunday night, dumping up to six inches of snow on Atlanta. We were also forewarned that the storm would continue on Monday, in the form of sleet, freezing rain, and ice, and that temperatures would remain below freezing for several days.

We all heard the news, well in advance. If I was still in NY, or even D.C., building maintenance crews would have stayed up all night shoveling snow, and residents would have awakened to a clear driveway and clear sidewalks.

My apartment building management and maintenance staff chose not to respond. This does not surprise me. God forbid there ever be a real emergency in this decrepit building. They will be sadly unprepared.

Today, I pray for sunshine and temperatures above freezing. I just want to move tomorrow and get the heck out of this broken-down place!

On a side note: I haven't been in my car since Sunday. One reason not to get on the road this week is because your less intelligent breed of southerner thinks that he can drive on this treacherous ice at normal speeds (which in Atlanta is 20mph over the limit). Take this moron, for example, who spun his tires on the ice so long that he killed his BMW in flames. See You Tube for the (illegally recorded) newscast.

The Hazards of Moving

2011-01-09T09:32:00.003-05:00

Last night I was watching the Seattle-New Orleans playoff game when I got up to go do something and ran right smack dab into an Oreck hand vac situated on the floor of my dark bedroom in a place previously unoccupied by any objects. . . until I'd started the moving process, that is. One of the hazards of moving is objects not being in their usual places, lying in wait to stub a toe or bruise a limb.

And I am the queen of moving bruises. I still have a bruise on my left arm from my last move—11 months ago!—a dark purple mark that my dad mistook for a tattoo this past summer.

Yesterday, it was my pinky toe that took the brunt of the hit. I yelled out in pain, and went straight to the floor to hug my toe. Both my kitties came running mmediately to see if I was OK. Baby proceeded to bite me in the back to ensure I was still alive (and able to feed her going forward). She does this whenever I yell out in sudden pain.

I suspected the toe was broken, but since the skin hadn't changed colors, I wasn't sure. So I got back in my chair to watch the game. Later, I got up to get an ice pack from the freezer. Suddenly, from the kitchen, I could hear the Seattle fans going ballistic. I turned back toward the TV to see a Seattle running back making his way down field as if in slow motion, flicking off tacklers like fleas as he completed an astounding 67-yard touchdown. It was one of the greatest plays I'd ever seen in football.

I was jumping up and down and hollering, "Go Hawks! Woo-hoo!" It was an amazing run that made me forget (momentarily) about my toe, until I realized that jumping up and down on it was probably not a good idea.

I was glad to see the Hawks win that game. Don't get me wrong, being a Cajun at heart, I am a Saints fan. But Seattle is closer to the heart for me.

I went to bed and just knew that my little toe was broken because it hurt to touch the sheets. This stinks! This is moving week for me. I have a ton of work to do. Fortunately, I started packing the week before Christmas and moving boxes and small furniture items into two storage units ten flights down from my apartment. This reduces the amount of time the movers have to spend treking back and forth on the elevator next Thursday. These guys get paid by the hour, and I'm so sick of moving that I want it over as quickly as possible.

Hence, I always end up doing half the work myself.

To make matters worse, we are expecting a huge winter storm (and potentially six inches of snow) to hit the area tonight and tomorrow. I keep moving further south, but that doesn't seem to reduce the amount of snowfall I endure every winter. This is Atlanta, for Pete's sake. It's not supposed to snow that much here.

I'm waiting for the emergency clinic to open at noon so that I can get my toe X-rayed and splinted. I debated going at all, and instead treating it at home, but the last time I did that with a significant injury (torn hamstring), I only made it worse. That was 2.5 years ago, and my hamstring still hasn't healed. Don't think I'll risk it with a toe. Not on moving week.

Happy New Year, 2011!

2010-12-31T21:04:00.005-05:00

Yesterday when I was waiting on the exposed, windy train platform to go to work at 06:30, I was wearing a winter coat, gloves, and ear muffs. This afternoon as I left the mall to drive home, I threw my coat in the trunk and put the top down on my convertible.

This weather is bizarre.

Since the week before Christmas, I've been packing for my next move. Believe it or not. And I woke up at 5:00AM today, so I'm too tired to ring in the new year.

If I believed in having New Year's Resolutions, I would have to vow to quit moving. At least for a year. I sure hope my new place is quieter and has less (or no) maintenance issues than this place. The maintenance man may as well set up a cot in here because this place has had every problem imaginable. It's a miserable old, unkempt building. I've only been here 10 months, and I can't wait to leave.

Well, it's 9:00 and I'm off to bed, so happy new year to all! May you be "too blessed to be stressed" (as a gem of a woman named Merry at work says every day), and may you be blessed with happiness, health, and love throughout the coming new year.

And... most importantly, Happy Birthday to my adorable niece, Maddie!

Famous Last Words

2010-12-18T07:49:00.004-05:00

I gave all my winter coats to Good Will this year because they were too big. When I was shopping for a new coat, my sister-in-law Judy mentioned, "You won't need a winter coat here [in Atlanta]."

At 6:30AM this past Monday when I got into my car in the open air parking deck at my apartment building, my BMW thermometer indicated it was 21 degrees. As I drove out from under the deck, the temperature dropped even more. The drive to the Marta train is only a couple minutes, so I don't bother turning on the heat. It would never warm up in time.

I was wearing a turtleneck, jacket, coat, scarf, gloves, ear muffs, and hat. Standing on the open train platform, the wind ripped right through me. It was very cold. The next day was even windier and colder, when my car registered the temp at 16 degrees! Waiting for that late train in the eye-tearing wind was the longest five minutes of my life. My gloved fingers burned as if frost-bitten when I got on the warm train. The wind chill factor must've been below 10.

The next day we had freezing rain and ice. I slipped on the ice in the parking lot next door while picking up my mail on the way home from the Marta. Big mistake. Traffic was a huge nightmare. Atlanta motorists had lost all sense of civility.

I live in a huge shopping district, where traffic is absolutely horrendous this time of year. Add ice, early darkness, and below freezing temps to that, and you get some pretty grumpy drivers.

Leaving the parking lot, I grumbled to myself about the monstrous SUV parked next to me blocking my view as I backed out of my space in my tiny car. So I backed out very slowly. I was halfway out and nearly jumped out of my seat when someone laid on their horn. I looked around the SUV, and there was a Jeep wrangler at least five full car lengths away, horn wailing at me for trying to inch out of my space safely. All they had to do was stop and let me out, as most Atlantans would in the same situation, but they'd come flying through the icy lot and were in a hurry. I pulled back in and let the jerk pass. Turns out, her "emergency" was that she needed to get to the sub shop at the end of the shopping strip; there she made a dangerous u-turn to whip into the space closest to the sub shop.

I had some choice words for her as I passed and left the lot assured that she will die early of clogged arteries from too many salami and pepperoni subs.

I finally got out of the shopping plaza to drive the remaining block home. But then I could barely make the left turn into my apartment building from the infamously dangerous Peachtree Road. The three lanes of northbound traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see. The challenge wasn't turning in (as it usually is), it was getting into the middle turn lane, which folks in the opposite direction had decided to use (illegally, mind you) as a driving lane. I have seen so many accidents caused by people driving in the turn lane in front of my building.

So I was facing oncoming traffic in the turn lane for the first time ever. This time, I was the one who blew the horn. Finally I got home and swore I wouldn't go out again until the temperatures were above freezing.

People get so antsy here when the traffic piles up. They block intersections, rudely jump from lane to lane to be "first" in line, and create a hazardous driving experience for everyone else. This week they went over the top. I really hate driving. It's much more tolerable in the warm weather when I can put the top down and enjoy it. It's times like this that I miss the NYC subway and bus system!

I gotta move off this road. It's bad enough that my apartment is an ongoing maintenance/noise nightmare and that the elevators are broken half the time; but it is just too dangerous to turn left in and out of my apartment complex. I suspected that that would be an issue, but I needed a place to live, so I took it.

Time to start packing for move #47. (I think. I lost count....)

On the brighter side, I'm tickled to death that I don't have to travel for Christmas this year! For once, it's just an hour's drive to my parents' house. Yay!

Jelly's Own Thanksgiving

2010-11-28T16:12:00.016-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! We had a wonderful feast at Mom & Dad's on Thursday. It was a good family gathering. My sister Lisa and her kids came from Tennessee, and my brother Dave's family was there, of course. The group of 17 included my sister-in-law Judy's parents and my cousins Debbie and Jenny (and Jenny's family).

The only local family members missing from the event were Buddy the dog and Jelly & Baby (my sweet adorable kitties). However, today I discovered that Jelly (clearly it was Jelly, not Baby) had her own little day-after Thanksgiving celebration in the closet of my second bedroom. On Friday I'd gone to City Dog Market to buy the girls' usual two bags of Innova dried food—the regular kind and the low-calorie kind, which I mix together.

Usually I dump the bags of dry food directly into a big plastic container. But this time I didn't. I decided the food would stay fresher if I waited a couple weeks, until the current supply of Innova was fully depleted. As I placed the two bags on the closet floor, my thoughts about the possibility of anyone trying to get into the food quickly dismissed any such silliness: "My girls are good girls. They would never chew through the bags."

How wrong I was. I got home today from some local exploring by car (in search of my next home) and was surprised to see one of the bags of cat food on its side on the floor, a large hole carefully carved out of it. There were a couple small scraps of the foil paper-lined bag on the floor. But as I write this, I realize now that there was much less volume of paper scraps than the size of the hole warrants. Hmmm. . . . I can't wait for that to show up in the litter box.

Clearly Jelly is the culprit. Going to the effort to chew a hole in a bag is more trouble than Baby would think it's worth. If Baby wants food, she either eats Jelly's food or she sits next to her bowl, looks directly at me from across the room, and meows. Once. She knows I'll feed her. Baby only eats when she's hungry.

Jelly, on the other hand, thinks about food constantly. It's not like I don't feed her enough. It's that she likes to eat a lot more than she needs (not unlike most Americans). What's funny is that the bag that she chewed open contained the low-cal food, not the good stuff. I laughed at her for that misstep. Burglary is obviously not her forte.

On Thanksgiving, I was good. I am very careful about what foods I choose at these large gatherings at my mom's. The food is always so good. If I ate everything I wanted to eat, I'd be shopping for a new, larger wardrobe in no time. But I've managed to lose close to 40 pounds and have spent a small fortune on an entirely new wardrobe, so I'm not about to overdo it.

Clearly Jelly is not as concerned about her wardrobe.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Fall in Atlanta

2010-11-13T07:47:00.014-05:00

Hard to believe that we are less than two weeks away from Thanksgiving. Last night I had to turn on my A/C for a couple hours. True story. Temps are in the mid-70's in Atlanta this week. Yesterday I found excuses to run errands just so I could put the top down and enjoy the sunshine and low humidity. It was bliss.

Things have been busy here. My brother Dave and his wife Judy held their big annual Halloween bash at their house. This party is such a big ordeal that they start decorating their house and the extensive haunted forest (out back) about two months in advance. They are still un-decorating now and might be done by the time they put up their Christmas tree.

The weather was perfect, and the costumes were fun. Two of my cousins were able to make it to the party, too. I went dressed as a cop again. I noticed that there were a lot of witches at the party, and cowboys too.

Last weekend my friend Rebecca from GW came down with her husband for an overnight stay. They had tickets to see their favorite musician Sufjan Stevens at the 100-year-old Tabernacle in downtown Atlanta. I'd never seen anyone so excited to go to a concert before. Tim and Rebecca are hard-core fans of this artist and had never had the pleasure of seeing him perform live, so this was a big deal to them.

I'd never heard of Sufjan, but he was good. Not only was the music great, but he put on a fantastic show as well. It's hard to describe Sufjan. He's extremely talented—plays about 17 instruments, I believe. I think the best way to describe his sound is "folk/pop/rock."

He had two of everything - two pianists, two bassists, two drummers, two brass, and two backup singers/dancers. Sufjan would change 'costumes' on the fly on stage by switching out hats and other attire. And boy is he a cutie! It was an unusual show, and I liked it.

I don't go to concerts very often, so I'm not used to staying out as late as we did. Just as the music was beginning, I looked at my watch and thought, "Hmmm. It's almost my bedtime." Three hours later we were fighting the parking garage traffic for what seemed like forever to get out. But it was worth it to see this unusual and very popular artist and his cult-like following.

Earlier, while downtown on a very cold and windy day, the three of us visited the World of Coca-Cola, which was pretty neat—especially the 4-D movie.

Today my 7-year-old niece Maddie is playing in her first piano recital, so we'll have another family get-together for that. Her sister Katie just turned five years old this past week; but, rather than attend her birthday party this afternoon, I'm taking my parents to the High Museum to see the Salvadore Dali exhibit.

It is fall in Atlanta. The trees are in peak color, the weather is gorgeous, and I'm still enjoying life!

Finally... a Real Job

2010-10-16T09:04:00.002-04:00

I started my new job in Midtown three weeks ago. I am still thanking God every five minutes for this job, which is with a fantastic organization—easily the best I've ever been part of.

I work in a highly secure building, and there are certain rules about public disclosure that I must abide by. Technically, I'm not allowed to name my work place on any public forum. Let's just say it's a large financial institution. But it's not a bank.

My job is information security. I have so much work ahead of me that if I were to stop and consider it all, it would boggle my mind. So I take it one step at a time. The people I work with are fantastic. I've never felt more welcome on a new job. Complete strangers pass me in the hallway, stop and say, "You must be new here. What's your name? Welcome!"

Most are seasoned veterans of the organization. My boss has been there 15 years, my "buddy" (who is showing me the ropes) has been there 25 years. My IT support person, 18 years. Most of the folks I've met have been there, on average, 20 years. This is unlike any place I've worked the past 20 years—there is virtually no turnover.

That's because nobody leaves (by choice, anyway). The real kicker is that everyone I've met is truly happy to be there. I'm not used being surrounded by contented people. What I am used to is the constant ranting of complainers and whiners—especially on my short-lived Wall Street job of 2007-2008. This job makes that place look like a complete joke. What a bunch of whiney, overpaid brats! Looking back, I can't even believe I had to live with so much crap on a daily basis.

I've heard from several folks in the Atlanta area that I'm very lucky to have found a job with this organization. Many people are envious. Others want me to find jobs for their friends.

The building I'm in is new and is gorgeous—all marble with high ceilings and beautiful decor. There is a nice gym, a partially subsidized cafeteria, and a coffee/gift shop. My cubicle is great; it's pretty sizable and comes complete with coat closet. The location is perfect, just steps from the Marta station. And the company pays for public transportation, so I take the train to work. (The waiting list for on-site employee parking is 11 years. Like I said, people don't leave.)

I have a brand new Blackberry, tablet notebook PC, large monitor, and travel bag on rollers. My IT person wears a suit. She is helpful and friendly. Now, that is impressive. I am so weary of self-entitled IT people (read: brats) who choose to wear jeans to work when all around them are dressed professionally. My boss is a dream; he is completely hands-off and lets me do my job. All the micro-managers of my past have served no purpose other than generating migraines.

The benefits package rivals that of a former employer, Microsoft—something I never thought I'd be privileged to say again. While most companies are offering two weeks' annual paid time off to new employees, mine offers twice that.

One of the best things about this job is that I have three days off every week. I have my choice of flex work schedules. I chose a 4x10. I work four ten-hour days and take the fifth day off. This truly is a life changer. Americans work too long and too hard. Having that extra day off every week makes going to work the first of the week a positive thing. I go in refreshed, having had three full days off for chores, errands, family time, and relaxtion. Ever since I left Duke Power in the mid-90's I've longed for the day I can work a flex schedule again. My day has come!

I keep pinching myself. Did I really get this lucky? After years of being miserable in the workplace, what did I do to deserve this wonderful job? Will this last? I truly want to retire with this company. I have never felt that way about any company I've worked for. Besides, this is the only place I've ever worked that offers a pension plan. Man, nobody does that anymore! For years, I've been worried about my retirement. Finally, I'm not worried any longer.

The downside? It is this: the stupid hand soap dispensers in the bathroom operate on an electronic eye that doesn't seem to detect my hand waving furiously in front of it, begging for a squirt of cleansing foam.

But the fact that I, for once, don't have to glue a nametag to my chair so that it doesn't get "borrowed" from my cubicle, never to reappear, makes up for my one single complaint that the soap dispensers are ignoring me. Besides that, the restrooms and facility are the cleanest I've ever worked in.

Honestly, I have no complaints.

Man am I lucky! Thank you, God!

A Short Film from Afghanistan

2010-09-25T09:09:00.005-04:00

My nephew Jason came to visit us in Atlanta this week while on a 30-day leave following his 7-month tour in Afghanistan. He took some excellent photos over there, and shot some video that I've watched several times. It gives me chills every time I see it.

In the shots where you see three machine gunners returning fire, Jason is the Marine in the middle of the three. You can identify him by the white rectangular object strapped to the left side of his helmet. (Jason, that had better be a bar of soap and not a pack of cigarettes!)

Click here to watch the video posted on YouTube.

Also, you can vote on a small subset of Jason's photos that were entered into an international photography competition at this link. Just click on the stars in the upper-right hand corner of the page to cast your vote.

Drive Down Memory Lane

2010-09-19T20:54:00.007-04:00

I took a road trip to Charlotte this weekend to see Chris, one of my two oldest friends. Here we are yesterday:

And here we are 30 years ago:

It is pretty hard to believe that it's been over three decades since the two of us, along with our friend Missy, were a trio of inseparable high school girls.

What is even harder to believe is that Chris's eldest son is 24, and she and her husband are celebrating twenty five years of marriage this year. Of all the couples I know, Chris and John are one of the happiest. You should see them together—they are best friends. They laugh a lot, which I think is the glue that holds a marriage together.

I fell in love with their cocker spaniel, Molly. This was my first time meeting her. She served as the welcoming committee. She was so excited to meet me that her little squiggly butt nearly peed on me. She's little Miss Social, kind of like my Baby.

It's funny, John thought that since I'm a "cat person," I wouldn't care too much for a dog. Are you kidding me?! I love puppy dogs. I'm just too busy moving to actually have one. Cats are much easier to keep at home when you live in an apartment, and I'm not too thrilled about the thought of walking a dog (rain or shine) every morning at oh-dark-thirty no matter what kind of mood I'm in. Besides, a dog needs a yard. High-rise apartment buildings just don't seem suitable for puppy dogs.

Anyway, I had a great time with Chris and her family. The drive was only four hours. It was 90 degrees and cloudless today, so I had the top down for the entire trip home (with literally four layers of sun screen on my face - SPF 15, 70, 25, and 30). I was slathering the 45 on my arms on the interstate.

It was weird driving down Independence Boulevard in Charlotte on my way to Chris's house. I lived in that city for nearly 10 years, back in the 80's. First I passed the old Charlotte Coliseum, now called "Bojangles Coliseum," which sounds so cheesy. I was delivering a pizza nearby there in 1985 or 86 when I was robbed.

Then I passed Briarcreek Road, where I had an apartment when Hurricane Hugo hit us (200 miles inland) on September 22, 1989, making most streets impassable and knocking out my power for five days. I'd been out drinking with friends the night before; I came home, put in my ear plugs, and slept through the massive Category 3 storm.

Then I passed the infamous Sharon Amity Road, where I was hit by a truck in my VW Rabbit while delivering a pizza late at night. That was September 22, 1985. I don't recall that event or most of the decade surrounding it.

I drove by a car dealership where I'd purchased one of the 17 different cars I've owned in my life (most of those in Charlotte).

I also passed by the newer office complex where Microsoft Product Support Services is now located, not far from the old location on Tyvola Road where I serendipitously started my computer career in 1991.

It was surreal to be back in Charlotte all these years later. And then to hear the stories from Chris about those days—because she remembers stuff that I'll never be able to recall—like my hiring her husband to be a driver at a Picaso's Pizza store I ran back in the day.... And all the other great stories about how she met John while she was still in college and engaged to another guy. Apparently I played a role in the plot to tell her parents of her dilemma at the time. I honestly don't recall any of that because it all happened in the month of my accident.

We laughed so much this weekend that my stomach hurt. I love Chris. There is just nothing in this world like an old, best friend. And even though we've seen each other only every few years since the old days, every time we get together it is as though no time has passed at all.

Happy Times in my New City

2010-09-10T20:07:00.006-04:00

Moving to Atlanta has turned out to be a really good thing for me. After nearly five decades of living, I've finally found out what makes it all worthwhile. Yes, the secret to happiness is this: owning a convertible. Not just a convertible, but a convertible in a nice, sunny warm climate.

For years I've hated driving a car. That's because most cities I've lived in suffersfrom relentless gridlock, especially Seattle, NY and D.C. In fact, I dreaded moving out of NYC to a place where I had to own a car. I just didn't want to deal with it.

Of course, it would have been prudent of me to buy another hybrid—a nice, eco-friendly, squarish vehicle that makes 40 miles to the gallon and comfortably seats four people.

Blech. I'm so glad I didn't go that route. I love my convertible. Now I know what BMW marketers mean by the "ultimate driving experience." I actually look forward to getting in my car. Plus, it's really hard to get pissed off at idiot drivers when you're sitting back in the fresh air, the wind whipping your hair about your face, and the sun warming your skin.

The really funny thing is that, for the first time in years, truck drivers toot their horns at me. I can't help but have fun with that. (I'm competing with my 83-year-old Aunt Geraldine for the most toots in one road trip and, so far, we're still tied at three.)

Besides having so much fun driving, it's been great being close to family. My social life has improved by about a thousand percent. A week ago, my neighbor Lisa and I discovered a wonderful female pop rock singer who ranks right up there with Norah Jones (if you ask me). Samantha Murphy opened for the Chapin Sisters at the Red Light Cafe in the Virginia Highlands area of Atlanta. We enjoyed music so much that Lisa & I each bought Samantha's CD, Somewhere Between Starving and Stardom, and I haven't been able to stop playing it my car ever since.

The next day, I met up with my family at the Art in the Park Festival in Marietta. We really enjoyed the show, and everyone was in a good mood there because of the gorgeous weather. It was a cloudless, low-humidity, breezy, perfect day. My nieces got their faces painted while the rest of us perused the artists' booths. After that we had another fabulous home-cooked meal at my mom's.

Then today I attended the big annual Yellow Daisy Festival at Stone Mountain—a world-class art show featuring over 300 artisans, a live band (the Gwen Hughes group was pretty good!), plenty of sunshine and food.

Tomorrow a friend of mine from Tails High (a cat rescue group in Alexandria, VA) will be in town, and I've got dinner plans with her. That's another plus about Atlanta - it's a major travel hub, so you can get to just about anywhere in the world from here.

Next week I've got an ISSA conference, and the week after that is the international HTCIA conference. I am so lucky that all the good conferences are in Atlanta this year.

Busy, busy, busy! I am really having a good time and meeting lots of neat people here.

Real-life Video of Life at Camp Bastion

2010-09-05T09:07:00.007-04:00

My sister-in-law Jacqui, the Navy doctor, forwarded an email to us this week that was passed around to folks who gave their time to help injured soldiers (and locals) at Camp Bastion hospital in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. The email contained a link to a recruiting video made in April 2010 for the British Army Medical Services in an effort to recruit non-military medical professionals to do a six-week stint at Bastion.

Jacqui, a radiologist, is featured early in the 14-minute clip, working in an operating room where a young soldier is being treated for a gaping wound in his lower back and shrapnel embedded in his buttocks. She is also shown at the end of the video examining the CT scans of a patient who miraculously survived a bullet to the brain.

Director and cameraman David Varley had this to say about his film:

I filmed some traumatic situations, leg amputations, brain operations, IED (improvised explosive device) victims, both soldiers and civilians, I managed to film the medics through their eyes rather than focusing on the patients. I think what interested me the most was how they coped with the environment, what got them through?, the answer, team work, friendship, camaraderie and a serious dose of black humour, never directed at patients of course, but generally at each other.
We managed to capture the medics at work, rest and play giving a memorable recruitment film that directly targeted NHS professionals.
- from http://www.1st4film.biz/

The short video might move you to tears, as it is exemplifies how ordinary people brought together under the extreme circumstances of real war can do amazing things that save lives.

Stills included here are credited to David Varley, Managing Director, ONFilm Group and (HomeOnFilm.com) and 1st4film.

Making Me Proud

2010-08-18T08:07:00.007-04:00

My brother Pete's family always makes me proud. He and his wife Jacqui have raised two wonderful young men, both of whom will no doubt be memorable contributors to society. This morning around midnight, their son Jason came home to the U.S. after nearly eight months sidestepping IEDs in the desert.

My entire family is utterly overjoyed to have Jason back and in one piece. Words don't describe the feelings we are all having, which approached giddiness late last night. I cannot wait to see Jason when he is granted some liberty.

Just a few days ago, Pete and Jacqui dropped off Jason's brother Matt at the Citadel, where he will be attending college on an ROTC scholarship. Matt is a wonderful kid with a great sense of humor. He is a rock star in my book. They are both sweet boys. And they're smart, like their dad.

To top all that off, Jacqui's younger sister Jessica greeted the Obamas at the Naval Air Station in Panama City this week. Here she is, in all her glory, shaking hands with a First Daughter:

How cool is that!? The expression on Jessica's face says it all. She can't believe it herself!

Wikileaks: Who Polices the Internet?

2010-08-15T08:50:00.004-04:00

This is a question that has been brewing for 30 or so years and has finally come to a head. Who is responsible for governing the information posted on the Internet, and under what laws are the posters of this information governed?

We spoke on this topic at length last summer in my cyber ethics class in grad school. The ethical implications of Wikileaks' recent actions are obvious, and I don't want to get into that issue here. Never mind that some of us might feel that these guys should be taken behind the barn and shot. Clearly the site's owners feel no moral obligation to protect the citizens of the world. As I said, that's a whole other (ethical) debate.

The other side of this issue is the legal implications—the fascinating argument regarding who polices information posted on the ubiquitous Internet. Because the Internet is not constrained by (and is therefore absolved of) geo-political boundaries, technically there are no laws that can be enforced here to stop further postings of classified government materials on the Amsterdam-based Wikileaks site.

The First Amendment cannot apply because that is U.S. law. U.S. laws can only govern web sites hosted in this country. Although the legal system has yet to catch up with the digital age and struggles to do so on a a daily basis in our over-saturated court system, the U.S. does have some basic "Internet" laws in place like the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA), which governs computer hacking. It also passed Digital Millenium Copyright Act (DMCA) that proscribes circumventing a technological measure that effectively controls access to a work protected under copyright. It has the Stored Communications Act (SCA) and the Electronic Communications Privacy Act (ECPA) that criminalizes unauthorized access to stored communications and limits the government's ability to compel ISPs to produce subscriber records. In 2003, the U.S. enacted a bill Controlling the Assault of Non-Solicited Pornography and Marketing messages sent electronically (the CAN-SPAM Act). Sadly, computer-related law does not expand much beyond those big items. See Title 17 and Title 18 of the United States Code for more information.

But because Wikileaks is in Amsterdam, none of our laws apply. There is nothing the Pentagon can do to stop the rogue organization from publicly posting leaked information. . . hence the appeals for the site owners to simply “do the right thing.”

Maybe the U.S. government should instead declare cyber war on its own Federal employees in an effort to prevent further leaks rather than focus its energies on Wikileaks? After all, the information being disseminated is 'classified,' which means that only those who have undergone an ardurous background investigation that is required to obtain a security clearance had access to those documents (or should have had access).

Was the Pentagon paper leak a failure in process (i.e., an error), or was it truly a deliberate leak executed by one or more cleared individuals? No matter how many people the U.S. government gives clearance to, it's impossible to control the actions of each and every one of those individuals. So why not crack down on the electronic systems that store and transmit that data in order to prevent further leaks?

Check out the ‘seeders’ map at the beginning of Wired Magazine's Threat Level feed entitled "Cyberwar Against Wikileaks? Good Luck With That." Clearly this is a global issue, where technically no one country is ‘in charge.’

The fact of the matter is that there is no legal recourse here. Do you think the question of whether (and how and by whom) the Internet is policed will ever be answered? I’d have to say probably not in our lifetimes.

Chance of Afternoon Showers

2010-08-08T08:04:00.003-04:00

Here in the South at this time of year, the weather is predictably sunny and hot every day, with the exception of about 20 minutes every afternoon when big black clouds roll in suddenly and leave just as quickly. Sometimes it rains, but more often than not the clouds just pass over.

On Friday around 2pm I had to take a trip up to Alpharetta to meet up with my boss briefly to pick up my check. I hadn't driven my car for a week and had been cooped up in the house working for several days. I was anxious to put the top down on the convertible and enjoy the outdoors.

As I approached the on-ramp to highway 400, I saw clouds to the north. It was that time of the day. The sun was out and the clouds seemed distant. I'd been in this situation a dozen times before (top-down, clouds ahead) without getting rained on, so I continued onto the highway. These clouds were gray and seemed harmless - not like the ominous black clouds that sway me to pull over and put the top up.

A minute later, however, as I approached the toll booth, my windshield was suddenly spattered with a handful of big round drops. I was in the far left lane (the cruise lane at the toll station), so I didn't have a choice but to stay there.

On the other side of the booth, the clouds opened up and very quickly poured buckets on me and my car, top down. It all happened so fast. I made it over to the right lane and onto the shoulder as soon as I could do so safely. It was raining laterally from behind, so I realized that this wasn't going to be a shower that I could just quickly drive through with the top down.

Sooner or later, I knew this would happen to me. There I was on the shoulder getting poured on as the electric top slowly came up out of the trunk and over my head. It only takes about 30 seconds to put the top up, but it seemed a lot longer. My white 'parachute' capri pants were soaked.

I merged back onto the highway and within a minute the downpour had stopped. I looked around at the interior of my car - the seats were all wet. I started laughing. Here I was in my wet car on my way to see my boss (and meet a couple other gals on our team for the first time) when I found myself with see-through pants. I couldn't show up looking like that.

The sun was shining brightly, so I pulled off at another exit and put the top down again. It was about 95 degrees, so I hoped I would dry out pretty quickly.

Sure enough, 15 minutes later when I arrived at my destination, the car was dry, and so was I. Well, that's one way to clean out the interior!

Big 50th Birthday Bash!

2010-07-22T20:19:00.017-04:00

I had more fun last weekend than I've had in a long time. This year, my eldest brother Dave turns 50. For several years, his wife Judy and I have said we need to do something special for this event. Somehow, Judy managed to pull off a huge quasi-surprise party on Saturday that brought friends and relatives from as far away as California, Seattle, Louisiana and Costa Rica.

Of course, the big to-do was held at a Cajun restaurant to satisfy my family's taste. The food was excellent, although I heard at least two people say that the Gumbo didn't hold a candle to my mom's or my sister's Gumbo.

Dave knew there was something going on for his birthday that day, but he didn't know what, exactly. Around 60 people showed up at Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen in Alpharetta at 5:30. (It goes without saying that Dave is a very popular guy.) A delicious buffet table was already set up with jumbalaya, blackened Tilapia, popcorn shrimp, crawfish fondue, and more goodies. The drinks were flowing. M&M's imprinted with Dave's baby picture were scattered on the tables. Everyone was wearing "old fart" nametags. At 5:45, Dave was led in blind-folded by Judy.

To Dave's surprise, nearly every male guest (and many of the women) were dressed in a black shirt and khaki shorts—a getup that Judy calls "the Dave uniform." It was Judy's idea to email all the invitees a couple weeks ahead of time and invite them to dress like Dave does. Her email recounted how her husband would go into the closet to change into clean clothes and come out wearing an outfit identical to what he was wearing before. Come to think of it, I don't recall seeing Dave in a different outfit in recent months. The Dave uniform was a hoot!

The big 50-inch TV in the party room flipped through an expertly-made slide show depicting over 130 pictures of Dave and family from his 1960 birth to present day. It took the efforts of five different people over the course of two months to get those slide show DVDs made, beginning with the digital photo collection provided by my dad. In the end, my nephew Connor and Dave's friend Paul came through with the goods.

It was great fun seeing ourselves in those photos. Growing up, we'd spent plenty of summer vacations with my cousins from New Orleans, all of whom showed up at the party, except Ariane who'd fallen ill the night before. Her nutty husband Tommy made it, though, and he (as usual) was the life of the party. Among others. It was a roomful of Type A's, for certain.

The most fun was the roast/toast that Judy arranged. Dave's 4- and 7-year-old daughters had fashioned a nice crown that he wore for the entire ordeal. My favorite part was when Dave's friend Jeff (wearing a black Geek t-shirt), read off his two Top-Ten lists.

One thing you need to know about Dave is that he's a total computer geek. I remember him having this IBM 8088 (or similar) computer in our house in Virginia Beach in the late 70's. He used to play this game called Zork in DOS and instructed me to "never buy a computer made by Apple."

Dave went on to become a coder and now has over 30 years' experience in software development. Along with his wife, he runs his own company now. In fact, he's the reason I have some work here in Atlanta—he introduced me to one of his clients, who hired me a couple days later.

Another thing you need to know about Dave and Judy is their penchant for garage-saling. They have perfected the art of bargain hunting to the point that they have developed their own private language that they use at garage sales. Knowing Dave, it's all acronyms—like "OP" for over-priced.

I'd even venture to guess that the majority of their kids' toys and clothes came from garage sales. Every time I'm over at their house, they're parading this new item and that. "We got this at a garage sale for [insert low, low price here]" is probably the most heard phrase in their house.

Hence, Jeff's Top Ten lists were related to those two most endearing qualities and habits of Dave. For your reading pleasure, I've added them to the end of this posting. Dave had a blast during the roast, as did the rest of us.

Wow - what a fun weekend! I had so much fun that I was completely exhausted all day Monday. From my Uncle Mike's tale about shielding his dog Griffin's eyes as the extremely obese Wal-Mart shopper fell out of her bra while pushing her cart with her full upper body laid across it... to the follow-up description by my sister-in-law Jacqui (the radiologist) of the ardurous process of conducting a mammogram on such women... to my cousin Ronnie telling Cajun jokes in the perfect Boudreaux accent, I laughed so hard that weekend that I was bent over in stomach pain on a couple of occasions.

Besides my cousin Ariane, the only person missing from this memorable event was my nephew Jason, who is serving in Afghanistan. Jason, we miss you!

Happy Birthday, Dave!

Top Ten nerd things overheard by Dave:
10 - I haven’t had this much fun since the Northpoint High School Rubik’s Cube festival
9 - Judy, how did you ever let my Unix/DOS/Linux/Windows Today subscription expire?
8 - I can’t believe that www.cheapoldgaragesalegeek.com is already taken
7 - How could anyone yawn during my Bulgarian travel stories?
6 - Who changed my Al Gore screen saver?
5 - When are they going to start a “Lord of the Rings” 24-hour cable channel?
4 - I am so crazy on my 50th birthday right now I think I am actually going to take my Star Trek: Next Generation action figures out of the box!
3 - Hey, anyone up for a round-table discussion on the Iran-Contra affair?
2 – Finally - Newt Gingrich Chia Pets!
1 - Anyone? I’ve got extra tickets to Nerdapalooza…

Top Ten things recently overheard by Dave at a garage sale:
10 - Hey, how much for the used Dr. Scholl’s foot inserts?
9 - That is not official Chewbacca Stars Wars merchandise
8 - I’ll give you 13 cents for that toaster and not one penny more!
7 - Lady, I had that National Geographic photosynthesis biosphere issue before you!
6 - Lady, touch it again, and I’m going “Mel Gibson” on you!
5 - I’m calling the National Garage Sale Council. These directional road signs stink.
4 - No color-coded pricing labels? So amateur….
3 - ???
2 - Judy, you got the counterfeit $20s ready?
1 - Wow, Viagra is so cheap at garage sales….

Hotlanta!

2010-06-27T09:18:00.010-04:00

Today will mark the 17th consecutive day of temperatures in the 90's in Atlanta. We are having July weather in June. Before moving further south, I dreaded that the heat would be unbearable for me. So far so good.

I'm pretty sure the difference lies in having an (air-conditioned) car. In NY and D.C., I didn't have a car, so I got everywhere on foot or by train (subway). By the time I reached my destination, I was soaked with sweat. Not so here. So far, it hasn't been as sticky humid here as it is in D.C. But, then again, it may be too early to tell. Summer just started.

In fact, I'm still riding around with the top down on the convertible. When the temperature on my dash shows 85, I know that it won't be long before I have to put the top down and crank up the A/C. Generally, when it hits 90, I have no choice. But yesterday I was out all day with the top down, despite the reading going as high as 95 in my car. That's what Saturdays are for!

This is my first weekend in many that I was free to do whatever I want. So I began my exploration of my new home city. I was actually hunting for a good shoe store to take my sister Lisa to when she visits next month, so I had a map of the four retail stores in Atlanta that sell NAOT brand shoes. I was also looking for a vintage clothing store that my cousin Jenny and I discovered in January while I was down here apartment-hunting.

I drove down to historic downtown Decatur—a neat little town full of eclectic shops and restaurants. I ended up spending all my time in one place called Blue Moon Designs. I could've spent all day there! I definitely want to spend more time in Decatur. I wouldn't mind owning a house there.

I headed to N. Peachtree Street in midtown after having lunch at Rainbow Natural Foods in North Decatur. I located the vintage clothing store that I'd been looking for. It's called My! My! My! and is located near the gorgeous Spire building. I can't wait to take my sister to that place, too.

After that, I headed back toward North Atlanta where I live I was driving up Piedmont Road through the artsy area of midtown when I came across some guys holding up hand-made car wash signs on either side of the road. They were doing a good business in a side parking lot, and as I drove past them I realized why: they were wearing nothing but their underwear.

Yup, that'll bring in the customers! Too bad my camera was locked up in my trunk at the time.

I'm definitely enjoying Altanta. I think I'll stay a while. It's funny—this is the first place I've lived in five years that didn't make me miss New York so badly that I cried every time I watched an episode of CSI: NY.

Stress-free Living in the South

2010-05-30T09:23:00.004-04:00

Man, I haven't had a stress level this low since I can remember. I think that this is at least partially due to the relaxed Southern mentality that permeates my new world. (Plus being on a break from school.)

Life here is similar to being in laid-back Seattle, only without any pretentiousness. People here seem to treat each other with an equal level of respect and friendliness, no matter your social status. And this is coming from a near-Buckhead resident, where Bentleys and Ferraris are not a rare sight on the road.

So it's nice to have an easy-going life for a change. My job (albeit low-paying) is not demanding or full of the usual political B.S. that I'm so accustomed to in Corporate America. That's the advantage of working for a small start-up company. The risk for failure may be high, but the work has a certain sense of intrigue. And motivation is a natural component when you are an integral part of the start-up equation—your individual performance is critical, and your contributions can directly impact the company's success or failure.

The kitties are happy here, and so am I.

Jelly is the biggest whiner I know (besides myself)! Of course, that adorable face is hard to resist. Today is Sunday, and Jelly would not let me sleep past 7:30. She kept getting up in the bed to awaken me. I'd roll over to turn away from her and feign sleep. She would then proceed to stand up on me and push on my back with both her front paws. Repeatedly. And while squeaking loudly and with an increasingly whiney tone—like a kid on the candy aisle in the grocery store. She wanted a belly rub and wasn't going to stop pushing on me until I complied.

I finally gave in and rolled over. Jelly is so funny. She's the first cat I've met who likes to "spoon" in bed. She has recently developed this new routine, which plays itself out before I fall asleep, while I'm asleep, and again early in the morning when I'm trying to stay asleep. She jumps up on the nightstand, then over to the bed. If I'm on my right side, facing the nightstand, she plops down up against my front, stretches out, exposes her belly, and rubs the back of her head on my chin.

I'll start rubbing her belly. She'll start purring. But the problem is that the next automatic reaction on her part is to start licking. Jelly is a big licker. Whenever you rub her belly, she has to lick whatever object is closest to her, whether it be the hand of her masseuse, or Baby, or a pillow, or her own furry self.

Lick, lick, lick. I can't get her to stop! It's OK during the day, but at night it's kinda hard to fall back sleep with this spooning kitty licking my face or arm with that rough cat tongue. Last night (probably around midnight) I recall informing her, "I'm not in need of a microdermabrasion treatment at this time, Jelly," as she scratched my face with her motorized tongue.

She is a strange one, indeed. Sir Walter Scott was right: "Cats are mysterious kind of folk."

Busy, Busy, Busy!

2010-05-16T09:39:00.003-04:00

Moving to Atlanta has vastly increased my social activities (my social life rating has gone from about a 5 to an 80, on a scale of 100). In D.C., my idea of a social event was having my friend Rebecca over to my apartment to study for our computer-related law final exam. Although I did make a couple museum trips with friends from school. But that was about it!

Here in Georgia, I live near my 75-year-old parents, who live in a beautiful "active adult" community north of Atlanta and are busy, busy, busy—all the time. They are always going to parties, or hosting parties, or planning community events. Yesterday I attended the "Armed Forces Day" event that my dad helped plan at their swanky clubhouse. My mom and I helped serve the attendees (something I haven't done in 22+ years). Later, she and I went lap-swimming. So by the time I got home last night, I was pooped! I don't know how they do it!

I had just missed a big downpour by mere minutes driving home on the interstate with the top down. Whew!

Also nearby is my brother Dave and his family. They've had me over for dinner parties, baby-sitting, and other stuff. His house is a good place to meet up with my parents for events, like the Mother's Day dinner that Dave's wife planned at the Melting Pot. My adorable 4- and 7-year old nieces have active lives, playing pee-wee soccer on the weekends, which is fun to watch. Next weekend, we're all attending a crawfish boil (something I haven't done since I lived in New Orleans in 1996). The humidity is just starting to rear its ugly head, so I'll bet it's going to be hot that day!

We've had a beautiful, colorful spring here. I've enjoyed the weather so much. Living here, I've been spending a lot of time outdoors. Part of that comes from driving around in a convertible with the top down—something else I've enjoyed tremendously.

Between family time and work and enjoying the weather, I haven't taken much time to blog.

So what's new? For one thing, as of this month, we've had Jelly the cat for a year. She still hisses at Baby when Baby play-attacks her. It's a hoot to watch. Baby will go at her, baring teeth, jumping on the bigger cat. Jelly is a big rolly-polly. She immediately rolls onto her back, sticking her claw-less feet up in the air to fend off Baby's advances. Baby eventually gives up and falls over onto her side, as if to say, "Ok, your turn! Now you jump on me!" That's when Jelly gets up and walks away, in search of catnip. To this day, she will have nothing to do with Baby's form of rough play.

Me, I managed to lose 35 pounds since last August—basically by changing my intimate relationship with food. I was happy with the first 20 pounds, and started buying a new wardrobe then. That was a mistake, because the pounds kept coming off, slowly but surely. So I've had to spend money on yet another wardrobe. I got rid of probably hundreds of pounds of old clothes and basically just started over.

I'm working again, although at an 80% pay cut from my salary of two years ago. It's stress-free computer consulting work, and I like the people I work with, so it's a good gig.

My only stress comes from my Maryland townhouse, which is now worth $140,000 less than I paid for it. I have a lousy tenant who still doesn't understand that rent is due on the first of the month, not whenever she feels like paying it. I still haven't gotten May rent out of her. But I've had worse tenants (like the one who never paid at all, still requiring court appearances), so I'm dealing with it.

My sister-in-law Jacqui is back from Afghanistan, and I get to see her in less than three weeks when my nephew Matt graduates from high school. He's headed to the Citadel on an ROTC scholarship, so of course we're all beaming with pride. Meanwhile, his brother Jason is still fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan and can't wait to come home in August. I pray for him every night.

Quiet on the Set!

2010-04-20T08:06:00.015-04:00

I thought when I left NY that I wouldn't come across any more movie sets. I was wrong. Comedian/actor Owen Wilson has been in town for nearly two months for the filming of a 2011 movie called "Hall Pass."

There is a beautiful neighborhood near me known as the Brookhaven Historic District. It bounds the golf course of the Capital Country Club. A couple weeks ago, I found the country club on a Google map and went to check it out—to see if it would be a good place to go walking. It was beyond good. I fell in love with the neighborhood and its tremendous homes. The streets are lined with dogwoods, cherry trees, and multi-colored azaleas. The lots are huge, and the homes are fantastic. This quickly became my running trail.

On Saturday I was doing my run when I passed a security guard and some seriously long electrical cabling at an empty lot on Club Drive NE. I asked the guard what she was guarding, and she said they were filming the movie "Hall Pass" there with Owen Wilson. "Owen Wilson!? I love Owen Wilson!" I told her.

On Sunday, when I jogged past her again, I asked her if she was still waiting for the crew to show up. She said, "No, they start filming tomorrow night." So, on Monday after work, I grabbed my camera and went for a walk up Club Drive.

Sure enough, large trucks came up behind me, heading to the filming destination. The road was marked "Closed," but that didn't stop the Jaguars, Mercedes, and Lexuses of Brookhaven from navigating their home streets. Nearing the set, I saw all the lighting equipment set up and the trucks lining the street. A stunt company vehicle passed me.

I spoke with one of the guys in charge, who was standing in the front yard next door toof the adorable yellow house where filming was to take place beginning after dark. He explained how they'd come in two weeks ago and planted that huge tree in the middle of the front yard of the yellow house, and that the owners were ecstatic about it. Of course, they were also happy about the fee they received to allow filming at their home. He pointed to the front yard, which was scattered with kids' toys and bikes, and told me, "Those are my props." I took pictures of the crew and their vehicles, which you can link to here.

Pretty cool. I didn't stick around long enough to see Owen Wilson, although he's been spotted several times in Atlanta since arriving in February, per several online blogs and news articles like Follow Owen Wilson and Christina Applegate To Atlanta's Hot Spots and Farrelly brothers and Owen Wilson bring Hollywood to Castleberry Hill (Atlanta).

The Yellow Cars of Georgia

2010-04-11T08:26:00.010-04:00

You don't live down here without knowing what a Neti pot is. I can't get over how bad the pollen is in the South. As of last week, all of the cars in Atlanta were coated with a thick layer of yellow stuff. I'd walk up to my car to get into it, and I could literally blow pollen off the trunk lid. There was so much of it that I didn't want to touch my door handles! And I park in a garage.

It's a strange sight to see people using their windshield wipers to clear the pollen off— as if it were snow. Getting the stuff off your car is impossible. It keeps coming back. It reminds me of how cars look in the Northeast after a big snow when they're filthy from the road salt and dirty snow.

Yesterday I couldn't take it anymore. I had a free coupon for a $12.95 car wash, so I used it. I knew the line would be long, but the wait wasn't too bad because there were about 20 people working there. When my car came out, it was blue again. I was ecstatic to be able to touch the door handles. I felt squeaky clean, like I'd just had a long shower.

So I put the top down, (only temporarily, because you don't want the pollen inside your car too), and I drove to my brother Dave's for a dinner party—at which one of the big topics of conversation was, you guessed it—allergies. By the time I left that evening to come home, the first light coat of yellow was already on the car.

Walking around in sandals in Dave's heavily wooded back yard yesterday, I came back to the house with yellow toenails (previously painted red), yellow feet, and yellow shoes (inside and out). After sitting on a porch swing, my jeans were coated with the stuff. Puffs of yellow smoke emanated from the denim as I slapped away the pollen.

My poor sister-in-law Judy is really suffering because of her allergies. In fact, "pollen count" actually makes the news here. They've been talking about it on the news for at least a week now, saying this will last another month. A bad day is a pollen count of 1,500 particulates per cubic meter. Last Wednesday, that number topped 5,000. We had a temporary reprieve on Thursday when it rained, but the pollen is back in full force now.

See the MSNBC Video: In South, worst pollen in years, where the "run" on allergy medicine is causing pharmacies to restock their shelves daily.

Meet Baby II, the "Bimmer"

2010-04-01T21:49:00.003-04:00

I think I'm in love. Prior to this year, I'd never seen the inside of a BMW car before, much less driven one. In fact, for years I'd stereotyped BMW drivers as snobby speeders, zipping in and out of traffic with no regard for those of us in our practical Japanese cars or American hybrids.

Boy was I wrong. BMW enthusiasts know a good thing when they see it. The first time I drove one last month, I was in heaven. It was a used Arctic Blue 3-series convertible. The ride was smooth, the car a timeless beauty, and the attention to detail and owner comfort beyond exceptional. I had to have one.

I admit, I had similar feelings for the Mercedes CLK convertibles. Driving those cars was like walking on air. I now knew what I'd been missing all these years. I've owned Hondas, Toyotas, Datsuns/Nissans, Volkswagens, Ford trucks, a Ford SUV, a Ford hybrid, a Chevy, a Mazda, and even (briefly) a crappy GM sedan. But never a luxury car. Never a convertible.

Car shopping was a pain. It's a full-time job that is full of disappointments (at least three cars were sold out from under me during the process, including the Arctic blue one that I wanted). But it's also a chance to meet interesting people. There was Jimmy, the 67-year-old widower out in the country who asked me to a dance after test-driving his '99 Mercedes-Benz SLK. Although Jimmy was sweet on me, I decided against roadsters after driving that car—a two-seater just does not provide enough space around me. I wanted a four-seater convertible.

There was the 6'1" tall massive mountain of a woman from New Orleans with four cats who told me about the time she parked her brand new Mini Cooper in a friend's driveway in Florida. She'd left the top down when the automatic lawn sprinklers came on and drenched the inside of the car, ruining the radio. Bummer. I didn't buy that car, either. It was cute, but not me.

Yup, met lots of interesting folk.

Then there was the whore's car. I was stepping into a used blue 2006 BMW 325Ci convertible at an importer's lot when a middle-aged black woman with long hair stopped on the sidewalk directly in front of the parked BMW. She was staring intensely at the car—admiring it, I presumed. I said, "It's pretty, isn't it?" She said, "No." Interested in her opinion, I asked her, "What makes you say that?" She looked at me and announced, "Because that's a whore's car."

I couldn't stop laughing. Either she'd already been drinking that day, or she was a zealous Southern Baptist who thought I needed saving. Possibly both. When I told the dealer about it later, he apologized. I laughed, "I'm from New York - I've seen it all."

Two days later I went back and bought the whore's car. And I love her. One of the cool things about BMW is their 4-year 50,000-mile free maintenance program and warranty. Nice. I took it in and had a free inspection and oil change this past week. Talk about getting the red carpet treatment. This dealer's service department didn't hesitate to put me in a brand new white 2010 BMW 328i sedan to use as a loaner while they worked on my BMW.

Man, the sedans are even smoother rides than the convertibles! I almost felt fickle for enjoying it so much. Oh, and BMW doesn't return your serviced car to you without washing it first. Granted, the valet key copy I had made cost me 50 bucks, but for some reason I didn't mind paying it. (A master key copy would have been $175. Yikes.)

Lucky for me, the week I bought the car, my brother Dave introduced me to two neat women who own a startup technology company here in Georgia, and I found myself employed just five days later.

To top that off, it was 80 degrees and sunny today—literally a perfect day. I, of course, found an excuse to leave my home office and go to my brother's home office to pick up some network equipment for the job. I sure took my time on that drive! The sun felt great.

Yeh, yeh. I am fully aware that in about six weeks I'll be complaining miserably about how much I am sweating in the sweltering humidity here. . . .

Man, I can't believe how much I'm enjoying it here. Atlanta - of all places. Hmm.

Hello, Prince Charles (and Other Dignitaries)

2010-03-29T22:09:00.009-04:00

Apparently when General Stanley McChrystal stopped in at Camp Bastion and spoke to my sister-in-law Jacqui, he'd already heard about the fact that both she and her son Jason were deployed to Afghanistan. He sought her out and asked her about it. She was sure to tell the General, "If you see my son, tell him to write his mother." She really drove that point home, as you can see from the newspaper article referenced in my last post!

Man, she has a great sense of humor. But how else do you survive a war in the middle of a desert far, far away where you can't tell the good Afghans from the Taliban, and you never know if you're going to step on an IED and lose a limb?

Jacqui sent me email later today saying that her son's best Marine buddy Kevin, a machine gunner like Jason, was thrown from his turret when his vehicle struck and IED. His back was severely broken. Kevin was flown from Camp Bastion to Germany immediately for surgery. The good thing is, he still had some feeling in his lower extremities. I'll definitely be saying some prayers for that kid tonight.

Meanwhile, I had no idea that Prince Charles was as old as he looks in these photos. Here he is in Radiology, with my sister-in-law smiling behind him, to the left.

Family in the News!

2010-03-29T07:06:00.007-04:00

Yesterday the Florida Times-Union printed an article about my brother Pete's family. It's pretty good, talking about how Pete's wife and son are both deployed to Afghanistan. Here's the link:

Mom’s in the war zone — but so is her son

Southern Hospitality

2010-03-25T16:12:00.004-04:00

I used think that the "southern hospitality" was a myth. Maybe I was living in the wrong part of the South. Either that, or I was just in a bad mood for a really long time.

I've been in Atlanta for four weeks now, and I have to say that I'm blown away by how friendly, outgoing, and approachable people are here. Today I was pumping gas (into my new car) at Costco. There was an SUV adorned with two flying American flags parked in front of me. The little old lady who owned the vehicle looked at my car, then looked at me and asked, "Do you watch TV?"

She proceeded to inform me of a recent news story describing how the static electricity created by getting in and out of the car caused a fire after a woman had gotten back into her car seat after engaging the gas pump. The victim (who was unhurt) failed to discharge the static by touching the door before going back to the pump. (See video here. Also, the full story is here.) In any case, this very sweet woman just wanted me to know about it so that I'd be safe at the pump.

Last night I was following my brother in his car to a local WIT meeting. Being new to the area and not having a navigation system in my car, I usually have a Google map printed out when heading to a new destination. I had the top down on my car. At a stoplight, I'd pulled out my map to see where we were when a woman in the car next to me asked me if I was looking for a particular street. She and her boyfriend, the driver, offered to help me find my way if I was lost!

A couple weeks ago, at the post office, I overheard the female postal worker at the counter casually (and sincerely) call a female customer "Sweetie."

Not to mention, I've had a number of positive interactions in retail businesses here. (Shocking!) I've been shopping for new clothes lately at Macy's, Filene's, Marshall's, and other department stores; 95% of the retail clerks I've come across have reached out to see if I need help. Oh, and they all spoke English. In D.C. there were a number of frustrating experiences where I couldn't communicate with a retail worker because she/he only spoke Spanish. That happened twice at two different Marshall's stores. Who hires people who don't speak English for customer service work?

I did encounter one rather strange individual while car-shopping last week. I'll save that story for another blog post. After all, I need to post pictures of my new, already beloved convertible!

Restoring Order

2010-02-28T12:33:00.001-05:00

Wow, I just realized how long it's been since my last blog posting. Well, that's because I've been moving (yet again). I am officially in my 47th abode. Oh, and this is a new state for me—Georgia. So that makes 11 different states (plus Bermuda) that I've lived in.

Don't ask me how I ended up moving this far from New York, especially after I swore I'd never live any further south than Virginia ever again. I'm not a fan of sweltering humidity. Truth is, it's a lot more affordable to be unemployed in Atlanta than in D.C. or NY. So I blame the recession, combined with the absurd cost of living in the D.C. area, for my latest move. Plus I have family here that I don't get to see often enough.

The only thing I'm lacking at this point is a car. In the 12 days that I've been here, I've learned that Atlanta has THE worst public transportation system I've encountered. I live on a major arterial that runs right into Buckhead and out to the suburbs, and yet there is only one single bus I can hop on to go up the road. And that bus only goes about a mile before it's at the end of its route. Not to mention, it runs about once an hour. Pretty useless.

I live near a Marta train station, but the only time that will help me out is if I'm going to the airport. Everyone here agrees that the trains are pretty useless for commuting.

So a car will be a necessity here—something I haven't had to deal with in nearly three years. The insurance will be expensive. I found out that my medical insurance will increase by a whopping fifty percent. My renters insurance tripled. My apartment (plus storage) is 35% cheaper and 14% larger than my place in Virginia. At least the lower cost of housing makes up for the outrageous cost of insurance.

Baby and Jelly survived the trip, which was a 10-hour drive. Baby, as usual, made it quite clear to me that she was upset about moving. Cats are creatures of habit. They don't like sudden, drastic changes in their environment. Baby knew what was up the minute I started packing boxes in December. They were both unhappy about being stuck in a closet/bathroom on moving day.

Then when I put them in their carriers for the road trip that Saturday afternoon, Baby cried for nearly two hours of the 7-hour drive to a South Carolina motel. She finally gave up. The next morning she repeated the dramatic routine, but we were at my brother's place just 2-1/2 hours later, so it wasn't as big a deal.

At my brother's, we had an entire 1,700-sf finished basement apartment to ourselves. So I couldn't understand why the kitties hid under a bed on the cold tile floor, refusing to come out for about an hour. There was so much exploring to be done, so it was bizarre behavior for cats. I realized later that they were probably terrified because they could smell my brother's dog Buddy (a sweet, harmless yellow lab).

After the movers left my apartment that Monday, I went back to my brother's to gather up the girls for their final, brief car ride to our new home.

As soon as I took them out of their carriers and they saw (and smelled) our "stuff," they were ecstatic. There were boxes stacked everywhere, but the girls recognized our things, and thanked me profusely with extra affection for a couple days. Even Jelly, who has never been a "lap cat," crawled up on top of me while I was reading in bed that night and snuggled in on my chest, purring. That's a first.

So here we are. I'll be done unpacking, organizing, and decorating by the end of this weekend. My multitudinous bruises are finally starting to fade, and my sore muscles are starting to feel better. Moving is a tremendous amount of work (especially when your movers fail to produce enough manpower to do the job during the timeframe that you have the loading dock at your apartment reserved—but that's another story).

I'm off to visit my mom and dad (in my brother's borrowed car). Hmmm. It's been about 13 years since I lived within driving distance of my parents. That definitely means more gumbo for me! :)

White Hurricane

2010-02-10T17:45:00.005-05:00

Today, 02-10-2010, it is warmer in Reykjavik, Iceland, than it is here—by 20 degrees. We are in a white-out; visibility has been as short as ten feet on the highways. The wind has been howling around my building and up through the elevator shafts all day. My apartment door has been vibrating and the wind whistling outside the windows since I woke up this morning.

Even though I live in a completely enclosed high-rise, trying to open my front door earlier today was difficult due to an invisible and powerful draft. I had to push hard to get back into my place.

We have been in a true blizzard since early this morning, and this afternoon we broke the record for the most snow in D.C. in one winter—the total is nearly 56" now.

Looking out the window, all there is to see is whiteness. Newscasters are interviewing people snow-boarding down hilly streets in D.C. Some guys were out there playing football in the bitter cold and swirling snow. One idiot was out for his regular jog. The news reporter interviewed him near some trail, and when the camera man pulled back, both the jogger and news guy were standing up to their thighs in snow. How do you jog in that?? Geez. That can't be healthy!

Last night the mail carrier didn't come till after I went to bed, so I finally did get a Law & Order DVD and a movie from Netflix. I am sure we won't get any more mail delivered for another couple of days. I spent the day packing and organizing my boxes and containers for my move. There is very little left to pack, and I still have a full nine days before the movers arrive to load the truck.

Here is an unusual sign in the elevator of my apartment building, and some pictures taken from the lobby:

Snow 5.0

2010-02-09T19:27:00.005-05:00

You kno-o-o-o-o-w. . . I was pretty sure that when I left New York just over a year ago, I turned left. But now I'm not so sure. This is the South. I'd swear to it. Last time I looked, Virginia is below the Mason-Dixon line.

But we are in the midst of our fifth significant snow of the season. Since 4:00PM today we've gotten another inch of snow where I live, and it's only going to get worse through the night.

Roofs are caving in from the 12 million Olympic-sized-pool-fulls of snow that fell in this area last weekend. Grocery stores are sold out of bananas and dozens of other items. The Federal Government has been closed for days (although that can be a blessing because for once we don't have to hear about congressmen fighting like kids on a playground over the Health Care bill).

Schools have been closed since last Friday and are already closed for the rest of this week. I haven't gotten any mail delivered to my home since last week. And if I don't get my Netflix movies soon, I'm going to have to get a new hobby.

Of course, my cats think that I live strictly for them now because I'm home so much, and they are taking extreme advantage of that situation. Boy are they going to be in for a rude awakening when (if) I find a new job. Well, first we have to move.

At least I've fninished quite a bit of packing for my move. This time I'll make it a point to double-check my route—I gotta be sure I turn left when I leave D.C.

Another 8-12" On the Way

2010-02-08T18:04:00.006-05:00

Schools are already closed for tomorrow. The Metro is still down - no trains, no buses. They are running some underground trains, but that only helps if you're only going one to three stops (like Crystal City to the Pentagon, for example). The airport finally reopened today, but flights out were limited.

The roads are still being cleared here. The piles of snow are huge! Many of the sidewalks are treacherous. I walked around Old Town, Alexandria, today for over two hours, so I can vouch for that. The problem is that the street plows push the snow right back up onto the street corners, blocking in pedestrians.

It is truly a gorgeous winter wonderland out there! It was nice to see the sun today, but that won't last long. My face is still red, which I can't explain. I took more pictures and just posted them to a new Picasa album.

Tomorrow around noon we are expecting the next winter snow storm, with accumulations of up to 12" by Wednesday morning.

This was yesterday's view from my apartment window, around dusk:

4th Quarter Interception Scares Cats

2010-02-07T21:33:00.003-05:00

Woo-hoo! The Saints are about to wrap up this Super Bowl. With less than 5 minutes left, Tracy Porter of New Orleans stepped in front of a Colts receiver and ran the ball all the way down field for a touchdown.

Baby was at my feet just before the exciting play, and Jelly was across the room resting peacefully in her bed. As soon as I saw the interception, I jumped up and whooped! I was jumping up and down clapping and hollering as Porter ran toward the end zone when Baby ran off. As soon as the play ended, Jelly got up, headed to the bedroom and went straight for the bed skirt, where she ducked under the bed.

It's Saints 31, Colts 17. I love Peyton Manning (he is incredibly precise), but I am rooting 110% for the Saints. They deserve a Super Bowl win.

Blizzard Photo Album Posted on Picasa

2010-02-06T15:11:00.007-05:00

I went out at 11AM today to enjoy the deep snow. It is just beautiful out there. I tromped over to the Patent & Trademark Office, where the snow was up to 21" deep. There were a few steps that I took here and there where I had no idea just how deep it was until I found myself up to my thighs in snow!

When I came across my favorite ZipCar (named "Dalai Lama"), I decided to have some fun and clean it off.

Then I was headed to the back entrance of my building (I was going to go in through the loading dock area instead of ruining the marble floors and carpet of the lobby) when I spied a few snow shovels propped up against a trash bin. I grabbed one and spent the next hour digging out a pedestrian path through a 4' wall of snow that was originally created by snow plows after the last snow. It was a challenge.

It was either do that or go to the gym, and I wanted to be outside in the snow, so I dug until I was done (and totally wiped out)! At one point I wasn't sure I could finish, but I wasn't going to leave it partway done. I felt like I'd burned a thousand calories by the time I was done!

When I stepped inside the loading dock area I realized my pants were frozen in places, my hair was frozen with ice where it peeked out from under my snow hat, and every piece of clothing I was wearing was pretty much soaked through and icy.

Two hours after I first went outside, I got back to my apartment, put my wet clothes in the dryer, and took a hot shower. It was a weird sensation, feeling the hot water run over my frozen skin. I heated up some chili after that and read an email from my friend Rashmi up in Maryland where there was nearly 30 inches accumulated. Her car was completely buried in the parking lot and she couldn't open her front storm door due to the big drift up against it.

This is amazing. A church in D.C. essentially collapsed under the weight of the heavy snow. The newscaster said it looked like someone had sat on it.

Nearly 200,000 people are out of power. I really feel for those folks. I've got it good up here on a high floor where I never need to run my heat because my apartment is warmed by those around it.

Here's a link to some photos on Picasa. Enjoy!

D.C. Blizzard Feb. 2010

Woman Walks 3 Miles in Blizzard to Use Sandwich Coupon

2010-02-06T09:56:00.003-05:00

I was severely disappointed to hear that the Postal Service has suspended mail delivery today—meaning no Netflix movie for me tonight—but there's plenty of entertainment on the all-day local TV news coverage of the Blizzard of 2010.

A local NBC news station has quite the eccentric reporter, Pat Collins. He's standing outside beside Connecticut Avenue, interviewing people who venture near him in the snow. Each person who comes along is asked to insert the yard stick into an untouched pile of snow and provide us with the measurement live on TV. Thus far, the snow has measured 17 to 21" deep there in downtown D.C.

One local woman that Pat interviewed, bundled up and wearing a backpack, walked to Giant so that she could use a coupon before it expired to get a free deli sandwich. Sure enough, she came back with the sandwich a little while later and allowed Pat to dig it out of her backpack to display for the camera.

Another woman, wearing sneakers and heading for her daily jog, was interviewed regarding the plastic kitchen garbage bags, ZipLoc bags and rubber bands that she'd used to fashion some snow boots to keep her feet dry during her run.

Last night, I was watching the news when a reporter who was streaming video live via Skype or Ustream came across Senator Tom Daschle stuck in the snow. The NBC photographer got out of the vehicle and helped push the senator's car out of the snow. Of course, the video hit YouTube shortly thereafter.

Then you've got your darker humor exposed in stories like Gun-Free Snowball Fights Planned, a headline suggesting you can leave your bullet-proof vest at home this time—referencing the incident of late 2009 when an angry off-duty cop brandished a weapon during a harmless D.C. snowball fight.

Apparently, there's about 30" of snow in Howard County, Maryland, where I own a townhouse. (Since my tenant can't seem to provide the rent to me on time, there's no doubt in my mind that she won't bother to shovel the sidewalk.)

I'll be outside soon enough to take more pictures.

First Snow Images

2010-02-05T23:28:00.013-05:00

When I was a kid, after coming in from playing in the snow we'd strip off all our wet outer clothing in the garage, go inside the house, put fuzzy slippers on, and drink hot cocoa in front of the fireplace.

Today, when I came in from shooting some night photos of the heavy wet snow, I plopped down in my chair, put my laptop in my lap (for warmth) and immediately downloaded my pictures to the computer, compressed them, and posted them on my blog.

Gee, things have changed. But I did have fun out in the snow! Brrrrr. The wind was whipping up icy snow. That stuff stings when it hits you in the face.

Here are a few images, taken within a few blocks of where I live. It's a new camera, so I had to mess around with the settings to try to get pictures at the right exposure that aren't blurry. Still working on figuring that out. This camera has more settings than I know what to do with. But a handful of the 68 pictures that I shot during my brief excursion seemed to come out OK.

Bracing for the Snow

2010-02-05T11:46:00.002-05:00

The snow has started falling here. It's a wet snow right now, and the weatherman predicts 18-30" for this area. On Wednesday I got a ZipCar to run errands. I really didn't need to buy a lot of food. It was more important than anything that I got milk. I can't go a day without milk.

All week long, any time you turn on the news here, they're talking about the big storm headed our way from Texas. It's going to be rain for the southern states, but a ton of snow beginning with Virginia and heading north from here.

When I went to Whole Foods Wednesday around 5pm, it was a bit more crowded than usual, but I got in and out quickly. Then today I saw this story on the news—last night around 7pm the Whole Foods near my home was so inundated with last-minute shoppers that they actually had to close for a half hour to process the folks in there! Then they had to let groups of people shop in shifts. Too funny. One woman was on her cell phone panicking because they wouldn't let her in right away.

Funny, last night I realized that I had everything I needed except for green vegies. I wasn't going to be able to go three whole days eating just corn with my lunch and dinner meals. So this morning before the snow started, I walked to Whole Foods to buy some frozen peas and broccoli. I also needed to check my mail box downtown to see if my stupid tenant had mailed the rent for February yet. Nope. Of course not. It's time to take legal action against her—something I dread because of the amount of time that it will consume.

A wet snow started to fall on my walk to town. It was 36 degrees out, and the flakes melted as soon as they touched my clothing, so it was more like being out in a light rain than snow. But I got my peas, came home, took a shower, washed my hair, put my sweats on, and am ready to spend about 2-3 days in this chair. Thank god we have a gym in my building. Plus, what a great time to have the Super Bowl. That will keep people occupied on Sunday.

Go Saints!

When Will the Precipitation End?

2010-02-02T18:56:00.006-05:00

Man, I can't believe it's snowing again. On December 20th we had a record snowfall of 20 inches, which delayed my trip home from NY for five hours. The snow from that winter storm stuck around for a while. Not long afterward, we suddenly had a day near 70 degrees.

Then, on January 20 we had severe rainstorms that delayed my flight home from Atlanta by five hours. On January 30th we got seven inches of snow. The sidewalks are still slick with thick, lumpy ice from that, and today while walking home from errands, I saw people still shoveling snow.

For tonight, the weatherman has predicted another 3-6 inches of snow. For Saturday and Sunday, an even "bigger" winter storm is coming. How big? Who knows? They haven't said yet. They just keep calling it bigger than the last.

So my plans for tomorrow are all cancelled. I had a car reserved for the whole day, but ZipCar was kind enough to allow me to cancel penalty-free due to the forecasted snow accumulation.

Even when I lived up in NY I never saw this much snow. Sheesh! On the bright side, living in an apartment building has its advantages, as does not having a car. . . .

NutriSystem: After Five Months

2010-01-30T10:36:00.004-05:00

I must say that NutriSystem works. I started the program five and a half months ago and, although it took some getting used to (requiring much humor and sarcasm), I've lost 25.5 pounds.

During the first 35-day program, I stuck to the NS diet nearly 100%. For the next 35-day batch of NS food, I stuck to the diet maybe 75%, which stretched out my supply of NS food by a few weeks. But since then, I have yet to complete the third round of NS food that I'd ordered back in December; I've successfully been able to mix the NS food with non-NS food every day and still lose weight. On many days I've avoided NS food altogether, substituting my own stuff—albeit in the same vein as the program.

This is actually a good thing because I continue to lose weight while avoiding the NS MREs and occasionally indulging in a meal out or other treat. I have a thing for the Whole Foods cold bar, which I treat myself to once a week. WF also has these fantastic black bean quesadillas and chicken quesadillas that you can buy in the pre-packaged meals section. Oh, and I love the WF chili and some of their soups. Costco chili is pretty good, too.

So I've been substituting entrees. The rest is easy—I just eat lots of fruits and vegies. When I am hungry for a snack, I automatically reach for a piece of fruit, a container of yogurt, or a handful of almonds. If someone offers me a cookie or some candy, I politely decline. ("I don't do that anymore.") If I indulge one evening on a meal out, then I skip dessert the next day or do an extra workout. It all seems to balance out in the end.

It works. The idea behind successful weight loss is learning to eat right. It means breaking bad habits. It's basically that simple. It is really no different from quitting smoking. You just have to decide to do it. Once it becomes habit, it requires no second thought. Of course, excercising is necessary for good health, so that element goes without saying.

There is one drawback, however. If you lose a bunch of weight while unemployed, then you end up without a wardrobe. That's the situation I've gotten myself into now. Fortunately, I had saved a bunch of my smaller clothes in a big box that I dug out of the back corner of my storage closet a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen most of those clothes since 2004—when I was a smoker! There were items in there that still had the tags on them. It was like Christmas!

Meanwhile, I've made several trips to Good Will in a ZipCar. This time, I'm not keeping my fat clothes. I never plan to wear them again! Besides, I'm tired of packing and hauling three separate wardrobes (in three different sizes) every time I move.

So the good part is, I do have some clothes I can wear. Granted, my selection is limited, but I can't complain. It sure will be fun to go clothes shopping when I find myself employed again. Hopefully that will happen by this spring.

How I Jinxed My Own Flight

2010-01-28T09:21:00.007-05:00

The words came out of my mouth at my mom's house about four hours before my flight time: "No worries - Delta is always on time." It was raining cats and dogs—with tornado warnings plaguing the Atlanta area Sunday afternoon—so I suspected there might be flight delays. But Delta.com told me my flight was on schedule.

I should have known better.

Driving my sister-in-law Judy's Celica, I left my mom's house 65 minutes ahead of time for the presumed 50-minute drive, plowing through a torrential downpour to get to the Marta train station. I had planned to park the car in the Marta garage, hide the Garmin navigator and my mom's house key in the glove box, leave the car key on a tire, and catch the 5PM train to the airport for my 7:20 flight.

My biggest mistake was picking up the phone to return a call from Judy. As a rule, I don't like talking on the phone while driving. We were only on the phone for a minute, but it was just enough for me to miss my turn. The Garmin recalcuated, adding five minutes to my arrival time, which was cutting it close.

To make matters worse, the streets were flooded, so I had to drive slowly. As time passed, my arrival time on the Garmin lengthened to the point that I decided I'd just have to take the 5:20 train. This relieved some of the stress to get there on time, so I stopped to fill up the gas tank.

But the rain came down even harder and I seemed to hit every red light. This time when the phone rang while I was driving, I simply ignored it. That was my second mistake because it was probably Delta calling me to tell me my flight was delayed, in which case I wouldn't have rushed.

I got to Marta close to 5:12, knowing I'd have to rush to get a ticket. I parked quickly, tucked a $10 bill into the ashtray to cover parking and, in my hurry, threw the Garmin, the house key, and the car key into the glove box. No sooner had I shut the door than I'd realized my mistake. I'd locked their only key inside the car. Great. But I had to run to catch the train, so I decided I'd call Judy as soon as I got on the train. I'd just have to pay her to hire a locksmith.

First, I couldn't find the way to the trains and climbed three or four flights of stairs before I realized I was going the wrong way. When I finally got back on track, I struggled at the machine to determine what kind of ticket to buy. I got the ticket and ran up to the platform. As soon as I got on the train I got the call from Delta. The automated voice seemed to take forever to spit out the message that my flight was delayed until 8:32. Just before the doors closed, I jumped off the train to deal with the car problem.

After several phone calls with Judy, my brother, a locksmith, and my insurance company, we determined that I should just get back on the train and go. I tried to re-use my Marta ticket, but was forced to buy a new one. (Rip-off!!).

I arrived at the airport around 7PM. While verifying my 8:32 flight, I noticed that two earlier flights to D.C. had been cancelled. Yikes. This was bad. Another monitor later didn't list my flight at all, so I made my way to the gate and found a seat. It wasn't long before the announcement came that my flight was delayed till 11PM. No explanation was offered. Aargh. That's when I moved to the floor and plugged in my phone and laptop to get them charged up for the wait.

Thank god for the NFL play-offs. Everyone in the crowded airport was watching the Saints game on TVs everwhere. The crowd at my gate was a ton of fun. It was pretty exciting to see the Saints win in OT (despite the three bad referee calls in a row).

Long story short, the flight was delayed till 11:20. But by then we were still boarding and delays weren't even being announced by the busy Delta gate rep maintained a surprisingly fantastic attitude throughout the hectic ordeal. Fully boarded, we still didn't have pilots. After the safety check and the long line of planes waiting to take off, we finally took off at 12:20AM.

Arriving at DCA around 2AM, I went all the way to the Metro station, only to find it closed. Geez! What kind of subway closes at night?? Argh.

I had to make my way back to the cabbie stand, where the line was about 100 deep at that point. My entire plane was standing there. I road with two other strangers to my neighborhood, but the cabbie wouldn't let us split the bill, gouging us to pay full price each. It was a rip-off, but at that point I didn't care. I was tired, hungry, and just wanted my bed. Even when the meter read $16.01 and he quoted me $17.60, I just handed him a twenty in the pouring rain and wind and went inside my building.

I've only travelled three times in the past 1.5 years, but leave it to me to pick two return trips during the biggest east coast storms of the year. Both times I kept saying, "Everything will be fine." Wrong. See, I jinxed it!

Never again. From now on, I go back to assuming the worst.

Note - At least my 'girls' were really glad to see me...

Jelly Weigh-in

2010-01-18T22:06:00.007-05:00

This morning I decided it was time to weigh Jelly. I've been trying to get her to lose weight. It's not easy to get one cat to lose weight when you've got two, because it's difficult to separate food bowls when they both have free reign of the house. Plus, Jelly will eat anything.

So first I weighed myself. Then, I picked up Jelly and weighed both of us. The good news is that I lost half a pound. The bad news is that Jelly found it.

Arrgh. She's up to sixteen pounds! Last time I weighed her she was 15.5, which was bad enough. But 16 is over the top, especially considering she supposedly weighed 13.5 when I first adopted her (at least, that's what her paperwork indicates). I've got to do something more to help her lose weight.

I keep trying to give her less food and have cut way back on letting her lick the yogurt lid. But then she cries with her squeaky little voice to get me to put something in her empty bowl. It's pathetic. And pretty hard to resist. I feel like such a bad "mom" watching her cry next to her empty bowl. Then I feel like a worse mom for giving in.

The key is to get a job and get out of the house. Then I won't have any temptation to give in to her protests. This is the most demanding cat I've ever met! Lovable, yes. That's the problem. It's too hard to resist that chubby little jellicle face, especially when it's backed by the most pathetic squeaks imaginable. Trust me, the squeaking is a killer. You've got to hear it to believe it.

Even as I type this, she is reaching her little white paws up to the armrest of my chair, looking me straight in the eye, and squeaking with unbearable desperation. When I get up out of my chair, she gallops to her empty bowl, her belly paunch swishing from side to side. I put a small amount of kibble in her bowl. She chomps it down like there's no tomorrow. The bowl is clean within seconds. Sigh. . . . I'll try again tomorrow.

Family Reunion in Afghanistan

2010-01-15T22:41:00.005-05:00

My nephew Jason the Marine arrived safely in Afghanistan yesterday and was reunited with his mom at Camp Leatherneck in Helmand. Jacqui the Navy doctor was in tears, as she loves both of her sons to pieces.

Jason and his brother Matt are great kids. Matt is such a rock star. Yesterday he was promoted to Commanding Officer of his high school NJROTC unit. Earlier in the week he finished a marathon in the balmy Orlando 26-degree weather - in just 4 hours 20 minutes. The previous week he received another Congressional nomination to the U.S. Naval Academy. There is no doubt in my mind that he will one day be President, or something better - like Master of the Universe or King of all that is Good and Right in the World. Something like that.

I'm so proud of both of my nephews. Of course, it goes without saying that their father is proud too. I gotta hand it to my brother - he raised some pretty awesome young men.

Jacqui just sent us these pictures. Thank god for the Internet!

We're all praying for their safe and speedy return to the states later this year. Your prayers are welcome!

An Easy, Safe Way to Help Haiti Disaster Victims

2010-01-14T09:30:00.002-05:00

It's sad that there are malicious people who prey upon the good will of those wanting to help the victims of the Haitian 7.0-magnitude quake. Beware of fraudulent email and phone solicitations for such help. There are many organizations providing aid that you can safely donate money to.

For Amazon.com customers, simply go to the Amazon home page and click the Learn more and donate link in the upper right corner under Help Victims of the Haiti Earthquake.

For non-Amazon customers, check out the CNN article online Money needed most in Haiti earthquake relief efforts, which provides a comprehensive list of the highest rated charities providing resources to the Haitian effort.

It's That Time Again

2010-01-09T19:32:00.006-05:00

It is hard to believe that my 15-month lease is nearly up. I left New York City and moved to Virginia for school on Dec. 1, 2008. The apartment management here requires 60 days' notice prior to lease termination. That's a bit much. I never plan that far ahead when it comes to moving.

Frequently, I don't know where I'm going to land until just a few weeks prior to the actual move.

But because the apartment management company here wanted a ludicrous sum of $1,960 (!!) to proceed with my lease on a month-to-month basis, I turned in my form on its Jan. 1st due date, expressing my intent to vacate. Reason provided: "TOO EXPENSIVE!"

That's all I wrote.

Geez, I can get a 2-bedroom in Brooklyn for $2K a month if I want. Granted, it wouldn't be Brooklyn Heights, where $2,000 only buys you a 500-sf studio and you're only one subway stop from Manhattan, but it would be within 30 minutes of New York City. I don't know why these D.C. metro area property management companies think that northern Virginia is such a happening place—maybe for family-oriented yuppy suburbanites, but not for me. I'm outta here.

After the last move, which came just seven months after the previous move, which came just 4.5 months after the move before that, I'd swore I'd slash my wrists before packing another box to move. But, deep down, I knew that sooner or later, I'd have to face the fact that it was time to move again.

This week I started packing for my 47th move. That total includes short-term corporate housing and other temp housing. If I subtract temp places that I lived in for 45 days or less, then this is officially move #41 or thereabouts. It's still about 20 moves too many for someone my age. Heck, for anyone of any age.

I've lived in ten different states and Bermuda. I've owned six homes (and still own the sixth one, which now has a renter in it who has failed to pay the rent on time six months out of seven). I've owned 15 cars (and am currently car-less). I've lost track of how many jobs I've had—and boyfriends, too—ha!

Poor Baby. Since I adopted her in November 2007, she's lived through one local and one long-distance move. This will be her third move with me.

It will be Jelly's first move. Right now Jelly is confused about what's going on, but she's not quite freaking out. I think Baby understands that all-too-familiar box taping sound, though, and she's not too happy about it.

I'm trying to keep things organized and am hiding most of the packed boxes so that it doesn't feel like moving. I'm not ready to live like that—not just yet.

I'm not sure where our new place will be. I just know that it'll be cheaper than the apartment I'm in now.

Another Afghanistan Deployment

2010-01-07T08:12:00.006-05:00

My 19-year-old nephew Jason (pictured above, middle) is leaving for Afghanistan tomorrow. His mom is already over there, working as a radiologist at Camp Bastion Hospital, saving lives.

Jason is a Marine in the infantry. A machine-gunner. It's hard to believe that this day has come. Just a year and a half ago I was at his high school graduation, but I still think of him as that sweet, adorable child that he's always been. His deployment is due to last seven months.

I hope my brother Pete (pictured left) can hold his breath that long. It cannot be easy being a parent, sending your child off to war. Jason is a brave young man. And so are his parents. Your prayers are welcome, of course.

Meanwhile, his brother Matt (the red-head), just received his third Congressional nomination to the U.S. Naval Academy! What a great kid (not unlike his older brother). I hope he gets accepted at USNA. He's already been awarded some pretty fancy scholarships at other prestigious colleges, so for him it'll probably boil down to his choice. He's in a good place right now. I know his parents are proud.

More Fun with Holiday Travel

2009-12-23T09:41:00.011-05:00

I swear, I'm never going to travel in December again unless both my destination and starting point are in the southern hemisphere. I was in New York City this past weekend with a classmate from school. We knew the weather forecast was for heavy snow to hit the D.C. area on Friday night then work its way up the coast and hit NYC Saturday night.

But we'd bought our Amtrak tickets and made our hotel reservations in August, so we got on the train on Friday morning and hoped for the best. We kept saying that we were so glad we took the train because (surely) they don't shut the trains down for snow, do they? They can just plow the tracks, right?

We were out and about Saturday evening after an exhausting day of shopping when the snow started to come down. We went to Rockefeller Plaza then did the usual Fifth Avenue tour, stopping in to see the huge indoor waterfall inside the marble-lined Trump Tower. We passed the Cartier building, wrapped up like a big holiday gift. And, of course, we went to Tiffany's to shop on the Silver floor.

As we walked up Fifth, snow, wind and cold us in the face. After Tiffany's, we were ready to go back to the motel on the upper west side. It was just too cold. My classmate's husband reported that D.C. had received 20" of snow. Meanwhile, there was little accumulation (yet) in NYC. I checked the Amtrak alerts on my Blackberry, and they were still running on time and not expecting delays. It surprised me, but I believed them.

Sunday morning we awoke to 10" of snow in NY. My face was wind burned. We frequently checked our train status, which continued to report being on time. After a walk through a gorgeous, white Central Park laden with sledders, and a trip to FAO Schwartz, we checked out of the motel at noon and headed to Penn Station on the subway. Needless to say, the Amtrak area was packed wall-to-wall with people. Several trains showed up as cancelled or delayed on the big schedule board overhead. Our train was scheduled to leave at 3:06PM and continued to be advertised as "on time" for the next 2.5 hours that we had to kill before our trip.

We grabbed a couple seats as soon as they opened up. Over the next 2.5 hours, there wasn't one single announcement about our train. Finally, just a couple minutes before 3PM, we got up and went out to the waiting area under the big board, confident that our train was on time due to the lack of announcements.

As soon as we got there, however, the sign suddenly displayed "Delayed" for our train. We decided to run back and see if our seats were still open—they were not. So we stood there under the big board, awaiting an announcement about our train. Over the next hour, not one word was spoken about our train. I went back to the seating area and asked an Amtrak employee how long the delay would be. He wouldn't even look at me—just shook his head and said "no idea," without considering my question.

One passenger said that his wife checked the web, and it said our train was delayed until 4:15PM. As soon as I logged on to Amtrak.com on my Blackberry, however, it suddenly showed that the web site was down. It continued to remain inaccessible.

Meanwhile, several trains successfully left the station bound for Washington, D.C. According to the board, all the north-bound trains, however, suffered delays of up to nearly five hours. A guy from Providence who'd been seated next to us earlier said I could go over to Customer Service for information. So I waded through the massive crowd, stood in line at the counter, but got the same answer regarding our train's status: "We don't know."

How can Amtrak not know where one of its trains is? We were pretty frustrated by the complete lack of updates or other information.

Later, a girl sitting on the floor finally got through to Amtrak on the phone after being on hold for a half hour. They said that our train was delayed until 4:15PM. If those people knew, why didn't any Amtrak employees in the station know?? Why wasn't the new departure time being updated on the big board, like it was for nearly all the other trains?

We were tired. We had no choice but to stand. The alternative was to sit on the filthy floor. Finally, at 4:15PM exactly, an announcement was made about our train. It was still "sitting in Sunnyside Yards" (wherever that was), and we'd be updated later.

That's when I realized why our train was different from all the rest that seemed to be making it through to D.C.: Our train initiated its journey at Penn Station—the rest were passing through. It was hours later before it all made sense to me. The train had been sitting all night and needed de-snowing and de-icing. What took so long to do that, I don't know. Amtrak did their best to keep us in the dark.

We continued to stand there not knowing anything about our train. Finally, around 4:45PM, it was announced that our train was on its way from "Sunnyside Yards," (which I later determined is in Queens). It's the first real announcment with status that we'd received, and it came an hour and a half after we were supposed to leave. Finally, 20 minutes later, track 15 West was posted on the big board ("15W"), and the passengers on our train literally RAN to the gate for that track, practically running over each other. My classmate yelled at one person who went too far. We were piled 100 deep, squeezing to get on first.

Why the panic? Well, as I later found out when I got up to go to the cafe car for some food after pulling out of the station, many passengers were standing and sitting on the floor of the train. Every seat of every car was full. People stood amongst the piles of luggage at both ends of each car (right next to the stinky bathrooms). How on earth could Amtrak allow this?

As a woman in the line for the cafe explained to me, announcements were made at Penn Station that people whose trains had been cancelled were free to get on any other train heading that way. Wow. That plan had resulted in pure chaos. What a nightmare.

I still expected to get home by 9:30 (2.25 hours late), as this was the time continually posted on the Amtrak web. But as we got further into the trip, the delays became longer and I knew the web schedule just couldn't be right. I was so angry. We got no updates from Amtrak as to further delays throughout the trip. In the end, the 4-hour train ride took nearly SIX hours. Worst part? We sat at Union Station in D.C. for over an hour while the last two cars were uncoupled. I guess they were frozen together. I could have walked out and taken a cab home quicker. But I didn't because I had no idea we would be there for longer than the usual 20 minutes. Once again, not one single update was announced. At least when you're on a plane stuck on the tarmac for an hour, the pilot provides updates. Amtrak sucks in that regard.

The final blow came after that. I used my Blackberry to call several cab companies in the city where I live because the Metro web site was reporting that above-ground Metro trains were still suspended after the snowstorm that had hit D.C. a full 48 hours earlier. There was no excuse for this. The tracks were clear by then. But I guess Metro is paranoid after all its accidents this year.

Guess what? There were no cabs available either.

So when I arrived at the Amtrak station after 11PM, there was no train and no cab to take me home. My only option was to walk that mile at 11:30 at night. I dragged my suitcase through the massive piles of snow (and salt) at every intersection and through the uncleared sidewalks to get home. About halfway there, a Metro company car passed me on the street. I screamed, "You son-of-a-b****! Come back here and pick me up!! This is all your fault! Aaaaaaaaaaagh!"

Clearly he didn't hear me.

This was almost as bad as trying to get home to Midtown from "the other Jamaica" (Jamaica, Queens) in the NY winter weather about five years ago. Needless to say, this week I awoke sick Monday morning and have been miserable and apartment-bound ever since. Oh, and I'm supposed to fly out Friday morning to see family for Christmas but we're expecting a big ice storm from Virginia to NY.

That's it. Unless they move Christmas to October, I'm not participating in it anymore.

Ethics: Taking the Fun out of Handbag Shopping in NYC

2009-12-05T08:45:00.008-05:00

I've learned a lot this year in the MFS program that I'm enrolled in. This past spring I was talking to my friend Rebecca after class about potentially taking a weekend trip with me to NYC. I said, "Aw c'mon, we can go to Canal Street and buy some knock-off purses!" That's when the professor, a DOJ prosecutor in the Computer Crimes and Intellectual Property Section, gave me one of his infamous looks that says, I can't believe you said that out loud. When I responded with, "Geez, it's not illegal to buy them," he informed me, "You need to take ethics class."

Even then I didn't get what was so wrong with buying knock-off handbags. What did I know? I thought it was fun shopping in the secret back rooms behind hidden doors. And I didn't understand what was wrong with it because the NYPD virtually ignores these street vendor transactions happening right under their noses thousands of times a day. I was still naive about it. But after taking the cyber Ethics class this summer, it started to sink in.

I've always been against software piracy and the like. When it finally dawned on me that selling these knock-off designer labels is virtually no different from that and is a federal crime, I realized just how unethical my actions had been. Not only unethical, but when you purchase counterfeit goods, you very well could be supporting mass counterfeit operations that use child labor and probably fund terrorism.

My ignorance hit me in the face like a ton of bricks. I wrote to my law professor saying that I'd never buy another purse on Canal Street again. He replied simply, "Then my work here is done."

This fall I'm enrolled in his computer-related law class, one of the toughest courses I'll take in the program. This DOJ prosecutor is my favorite teacher. We've talked a lot about intellectual property (IP) law, counterfeiting, copyright law, and copyright infringement this semester, studying statutes like the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.

It wasn't until I took this class that I learned that all of those "dollar stores" you find in strip malls are really mass counterfeiting operations. When I registered my shock with a classmate, she said, "Well, where do you think all that junk comes from?" Who was I to know that a dollar tube of Colgate was missing a key ingredient found in the real Colgate that provides its gelatinous consistency?

Honestly, I didn't know; and because those dollar stores are everywhere, It never occurred to me that they were not legitimate. After all, if they were trafficking in counterfeit goods, wouldn't they all be out of business?

As any good investigator knows, things aren't always as they seem.

Hence, in addition to giving up knock-off purses (and watches), I vowed to never shop at a dollar store again. It's true that you won't be prosecuted for buying a counterfeit item, but if you knowingly buy one and give it away as a gift or re-sell it, then you can be prosecuted for trafficking in counterfeit goods under 18 U.S.C. 2318. Until I studied the law, I really didn't understand how wrong it is—and why. It is theft. It is theft in support of child sweat shops and international terrorism.

My classmate Suzanne and I are going to NYC for the weekend right after we finish our law final. A year ago I would have made it a point to take her to Canal Street. Not this time, and never again! She thinks I'm being "self-righteous." Honestly, I'm just trying to be a law-abiding citizen and not a hypocrit who chides people for sharing software or music files with their buddies instead of buying a legitimate license—something I've always been vehemently opposed to.

For more info, see the Wired: Threat Level article Feds Prosecuting More Counterfeiters, IP Pirates. To learn about the counterfeiting industry and the impact it has on the global economy, check out the No to Fakes web site. You'll be shocked at the ubiquitousness of the counterfeiting industry.

Saying Thanks to our Troops

2009-11-25T18:48:00.006-05:00

This Thanksgiving, I am thinking about the men and women who have given so much to ensure that Americans like you and I have the freedom to live the life we want. I think about what it must be like to go to bed on a cot in a tent in the middle of a dusty desert thousands of miles from home, and it makes me realize just how much our service men and women sacrifice for us every day. Not just today, but for the past 200+ years. I live a good life thanks to our veterans and active service people.

If you want to send a soldier a card, here's a freebie for you: Let's Say Thanks in Support of our Troops.

In the meantime, enjoy your Thanksgiving meal! Jelly beat me to the turkey, so it looks like I'll be spending the day doing homework :)

"Whaddayamean that turkey in the fridge was for tomorrow?!"

Just kidding, of course—there was no turkey in my fridge, not even of the NutriSystem variety. I fully intended to spend the whole holiday weekend writing my term papers. Happy Holidays, everyone!

A Note from Camp Bastion, Afghanistan

2009-11-22T09:53:00.009-05:00

Yesterday my sister-in-law wrote:

Today was my first real (almost) day off. The new British radiologist arrived last night and with he and Ian on board I was finally free to have a real day off. I planned to start the day by sleeping in until at least 0900. This plan was foiled, however, by casualties arriving at 0730 and since I was the duty radiologist the prior evening I got the honor of being hauled out of bed. Oh well.

I found that holding the US machine was a little difficult since I hurt my left hand yesterday playing baseball like a girl. After the morning adventure I decided to get it x-rayed to see if there was a least a small fracture to explain all the pain. It turns out the the left ring finger was completely dislocated (I thought it felt a little funny). After a digital block of the finger (about as much fun as it sounds), I had many surgeons offering to relocate it. Why does this sound like fun to these guys? Anyway, it is a disgusting feeling to have a bone slide back into place and I have decided to cut the baseball career very short to avoid any future recurrence.

With my free afternoon I roamed all the adjacent small bases including Leatherneck, Bastion 2 and the Danish base. While trying to get a good picture of the front of the Leatherneck sign I encountered a returning convoy that by the looks of it had been sent to clear the roads of IEDs. The truck just coming into the picture has a trailer contraption on the front to detect the bombs. The danish coffee house serves free real brewed coffee all day and fresh sheet cake at 1500 daily. I hung out with some of the Brits from the hospital and discussed what a nice day yesterday was (just a couple gunshot wounds) and how this has come to refine the whole TGIF concept. I then wandered over to Bastion 2 where I discovered the most awesome coffee bar in the back of the minimart. Unfortunately their coffee machine was down so it was back to the instant coffee. Oh well, the atmosphere was worth it.

I intend to sleep in tomorrow (god willing) and back to a regular work day on Monday. Hoping to make it to the American Base for Thanksgiving. hope everyone has a great thanksgiving holiday! Love Jacqui

Turning Point for Jelly

2009-11-16T21:30:00.011-05:00

My friend Rebecca from class came over Saturday so we could study our flash cards for our computer law class when, out of the blue, Jelly jumped up on the ottoman in front of me where Baby was sprawled out and started licking Baby's back!

I was in awe. That was a first for Jelly! My jaw dropped open as I exclaimed, "Oh my god!" I'm sure Rebecca didn't understand the significance of this friendly behavior of Jelly's—an event I'd awaited patiently for six long months.

The next day, I realized that I hadn't seen nor heard Jelly hiss at Baby in at least in a few days. Right now we are just past the 6-month mark since bringing Jelly home. It's as though a switch was flipped in her little heart and she suddenly opened up to Baby.

Man, this is good news. I'm so glad that Jelly is finally comfortable around Baby and has officially made our home hers. She's so cute. She is certainly the only cat I've ever met who comes running whenever I pull the foil top off the yogurt container so she can lick it. And she's the only cat I know who comes bounding toward me at the crunch of an apple or pear I'm eating. She insists on licking the core.

Not unlike me, Jelly is very food-oriented. (Uh, a nice euphemism for "has an eating disorder!") On Friday after I got home from a trip to Natures Nibbles with my friend Claudia, I was emptying the big bag of Innova Evo dry food into its plastic container when Jelly came over and stuck her face in it before I had a chance to put the lid on. She sat there and ate from the huge "bowl" as if taste-testing this new bag of food and giving her seal of approval. (We did get one bad batch earlier this year that neither of them would touch and I had to throw away.) Baby was much more restrained. She sniffed and walked off. She's the "thin" one of us girls.

Oh, and on Saturday, Jelly ate from the fresh strawberries that Rebecca had brought over. I'd never seen a cat eat fruit before! This cat is more and more like me . . . she'll eat just about anything.

I'm betting that maybe NutriSystem MREs are an exception to that, but knowing Jelly I could be way wrong.

"The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3"

2009-11-09T22:12:00.005-05:00

After inadvertently coming across the filming of the remake of the 1974 Walter Mathau movie "The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3" while taking one of my long NYC walks last year, I couldn't wait for the movie to come out on DVD so I could watch it. To wet my appetite, I rented the original version from Netflix and watched it while I was still living in Brooklyn.

I enjoyed it—especially the very last scene, which was the sneeze scene that gave the bad guy away.

So last night I started watching the new version. First thing that ticked me off was the big RED "6" emblazoned on the 6 train. The Lexington Avenue line is GREEN, not red! The 4/5/6 trains are green. And the 1/2/3 trains that run on the 7th Avenue line are red. Duh! Any New Yorker knows that. Even a lot of tourists know that, because the 4/5/6 runs through Grand Central Terminal.

How could the director get the most basic of details wrong?! Are you kidding me? They filmed in New York City. They were on subway platforms, inside subway tunnels, up on elevated subway tracks, inside subway cars, and on the streets of Manhattan where there are subway signs every few blocks—green "6" signs if you're on the east side. Heck, several of the subway platform scenes cleary display the green "6" signs—juxtaposed to the tracks where a train with a big red illuminated 6 is approaching. Whattup wit' dat???

I didn't finish watching last night because I was too tired. Plus, the red 6 really bugged me. I mean, seriously. The other thing that annoyed me was all the cursing. I don't mind when movies use the occasional "f" word, but when they use it Tourette-style, it gets very old very quickly. I do love John Travolta (and wished I'd gotten a chance to see him on the bridge that day last year), but I don't like him when his character is cursing like a spoiled punk. Of course, the 70's version of the flick didn't suffer the same annoyance.

Ok, so I need to watch the rest of the movie. But I wanted to watch Sunday's episode of Mad Men first. And I'm glad I did. It was the best episode ever! It even beat out the lawn mower episode. Matthew Weiner is a genius. It still tickles me that I had an engaging conversation with him last year in a Madison Avenue antique book store, all the while never knowing who he was. That was a little over a year ago. I recall it fondly.

God I miss New York. I can't wait to graduate this Master's program so I can go back. Every time I watch the latest CSI:NY episode I just want to cry because I miss it sooooooo much.

Ok, so I'll watch the rest of the movie and let you know if it's worth it or not.

"Yes Ma'am, Officer!"

2009-11-01T01:31:00.004-04:00

The funniest thing happened on my way to last night's Halloween party. I was actually dressed in a costume, something I haven't done in at least 20, 25 years. I went to a fund-raiser party dressed as a police officer.

On my way, I had to stop at Whole Foods to grab wine and cookies to take with me. I had some fun with the cashier and the guys in line ahead of me. Then I still had some time to kill before the party, so I decided that while I had a car I should check my postal box at the UPS store in Old Town. I drove the few blocks to that location and parked my ZipCar on the street across from the UPS store.

There was a white van parked on the street right in front of the store. Between the store and the van there was one of the standard blue USPS mailboxes next to the sidewalk. The driver side door of the van was open, and a young man was standing outside it, about ready to take a swig from his water bottle.

As I was crossing in front of the van, I said to him (in a firm, authoritative cop voice), “Sir did you know that you’re parked illegally in front of a mailbox?” and as I said it, I keep walking toward the store, my fake night stick swinging at my side. The guy quickly gulped back from the water bottle that he'd raised to his lips, grabbing the steering wheel as he clambered into the van, explaining to me in his slightly panicked voice, “I’m moving it now!”

I wanted to burst out laughing but kept walking up onto the sidewalk. I did say say, “Just kidding!” but am not sure if the van driver heard me. The UPS store was closed, and as I turned around to go back to my car I saw that there were three adults on the other side of the street laughing their butts off! I couldn't hold it in.

The van guy was still trying to figure out what just happened when suddenly it dawned on him that it's Halloween and he'd just been duped. I was bent over laughing when I said to the people across the street, “That was a good one, wasn’t it?!” They all nodded in agreement. As I got into my car, the van driver put his arms up over his head in a WTF gesture saying out loud, “A mailbox?”

I laughed out loud all the way to the party! And no, for all you party poopers, my actions don't qualify as impersonating a police officer because I didn't identify myself as a member of law enforcement and because there's no such thing as parking "illegally" in front of a mailbox. Not to mention, female cops don't wear dresses and funny hats.

NutriSystem: Week 12 Coming Up

2009-10-31T10:56:00.004-04:00

It's been eleven weeks since I first started eating NutriSystem MREs (meals rejected by Ethiopians) and I've finally broken the 15-pound weight loss barrier. I have to admit, I have much better eating habits now than I've had in years, but I'm so tired of the NS food that I don't know how much more of it I can take. The breakfasts are fine and the desserts are ok. It's the lunches and dinners that I'm sick of.

In fact, I'm on my second round of a 35-day supply of NS food, and I've finished all the breakfastes and desserts (for which you get one per day each). Funny how I ended up with a cabinet still stocked with lunches and dinners - at least six or eight each! That means I did some substitutions along the way. :)

My favorite substitution meal is the Whole Foods salad bar. It's a treat for me, and it's what I had last night when my friend Rebecca came over to study with me.

Rebecca and I have been in the same classes every semester since I joined the forensics program. We always sit together in class and work together when there is a group paper or other project. When she comes to class, she brings a 1-pound Tupperware bowl full of fresh vegetables for us to munch on.

It was her idea to make flash cards for classes this semester. So she created flash cards for our Protection class, and I created them for our Law class. It's a great deal 0f information to remember—we're talking the entire CISSP (information security) book, which covers every computer protocol known to man, and several statutes, including the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA), Copyright Act, Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), all the fraud statutes, and more . . . plus court cases. It's a lot to remember for the final exam and for comprehensive testing required to graduate!

But the flash card thing is working for us, so we're going to keep up these sessions at my apartment (where Rebecca gets a brief reprieve from toddler duty). As a matter of fact, it's Halloween morning and I have a party to go to tonight, I so I need to get cracking on my Law paper, which will answer the question, "Does digital evidence fall under the plain view category as an exception to the warrant requirement?" Hmmm. A great topic for me, as it's Fourth Amendment-bound. I do love the Fourth Amendment!

The Cat Sat on my Homework, Professor

2009-10-16T20:25:00.014-04:00

It's official - Jelly Belly is now a member of our family. No sooner did I complete the adoption than she started sporadically romping with Baby. I've seen her do it twice this week now! That's great. Jelly is starting to come around. I feel like the proud Mom.

It's really hard to get anything done around here, what with having two profoundly spoiled kitties. I have a small, windowless, room at home that I call my office. It is where I do my job (what's left of it) and my homework. I have a stand-up workstation, which is simply a tall desk that I can stand at to work, or sit at in a tall chair. It's better for the lower back.

Baby has always gotten up on the desk with me when I settle in to do my work. I don't know what it is about paper and books, but cats love to use them as beds and pillows. So I'm constantly removing Baby from my homework or my laptop. Poor Jelly is too chubby to jump up on the desk. So she usually meows for attention from her spot on the floor next to my chair. If I don't pet her, she gets up on her hind legs and reaches up to me on the chair seat. She wants to be scratched.

For a while, that drove me crazy. She whined and whined. Recently I found the solution: I pick her up and put her on the desk too. With two cats, a laptop, and the keyboard/mouse for my desktop computer, there is little room for work. So I squeeze my reading materials in, between cats, and try to get some work done. God forbid I get up and walk away for a minute, because I'll come back to find a cat sprawled out on my homework.

Yesterday I was trying to finish reading my Computer Law assignment from the electronic evidence Search and Seizure Manual. I was forced to come to a stop when Jelly settled in on Chapter 2, as so:

I got up and went around the corner to grab my digital camera. Within moments, Baby had joined her:

What was I to do? I didn't have to do much because, before I knew it, they were fighting over my law binder, which I found to be quite hysterical. (Baby: "Don't you raise your paw at me, Sista!")

Eventually, Baby gave up and left. The only way I knew to get rid of Jelly was to leave the room because eventually she follows me to wherever I may be in our small apartment. Only then could I finish my homework assignment!

A couple days earlier I was reading the big fat CISSP book by Shon Harris for my Protection of Info Systems class when Jelly fell asleep on my notebook, proving that the highly technical topic of cryptography is equally stimulating to her.

At the same time, I think the CISSP Exam Cram book killed Baby:

It's amazing I get anything done at all, what with the constant activity on my desk!

Fun with Guns

2009-10-09T11:59:00.006-04:00

The following is an email from my sister-in-law Jacqui, the Navy doctor who is currently attending combat training at Fort Stewart in preparation for her Afghanistan deployment:

This has been an especially long week and every day involves body armor (IBA) and guns. I have had about as much fun as I can stand! However, the Navy/Army always has a new twist to add and tomorrow it is off for more computer simulator training (on identifying who to shoot and not to shoot) and then land nav. I just hope someone brings a GPS to the course on Saturday.
Today was actually pretty cool except for the 3am wakeup and the 4am range time to shoot the m9 in the dark. We then went to another range to shoot 'big guns.' The biggest is a 50 cal, and the others were a 500 and 700 something. Please see [my son] or [my husband] or other military type to give you better pecifics. I just can't retain stuff like that. We had tanks and dummies to aim at and I hit most everything so that was good. We then did a "tactical" course with the M16 which involves being pulled out of a humvee and shooting at multiple targets from standing, kneeling and prone. I learned that 'double tap' means to shoot it twice quickly, not run faster. This was followed by an exercise in walking and identifying targets with people to our left and right with live rounds in our rifles. The goal being to bring the rifles to bear on the target without shooting the person next to you. Mission accomplished. Of course, after wearing the IBA for about two hours in the sun at that point, actually hitting the target was the least of my concerns.
We had a Navy Ball here last Saturday which was a blast. It was held in the Marriott and really was well done. The alcohol ban was lifted for the night and that was a plus. One more week or this fun and then off to Kuwait for desert specific training. Love to everyone, Jacqui.

For me, I wouldn't have lasted 30 minutes in the South Carolina heat in all that gear. When it comes to humidity, I'm a wimp.

I am encouraging Jacqui to start her own blog so that we can follow her in her mission. She seems pretty adept at picking up computer skills, so there's hope that she'll get it going soon.

Are Sure You're Logged in to Your Bank Account?

2009-10-06T20:39:00.003-04:00

Beware the rogue online banking statement—it looks like your bank statement but it's not. And it won't display that withdrawal that you didn't make.

It's getting scarier to conduct financial transactions online. A student in my Protection class pointed us to this new article on Wired.com: New Malware Re-Writes Online Bank Statements to Cover Fraud.

As the author, Kim Zetter, reveals, there is a new Trojan horse called URLZone that rewrites the basic HTML code that displays your online banking statement when you log on to your account. The account's been hijacked, and the funds are dwindling with successive withdrawals, but to you it looks like your balance is right where it should be. Yikes! If in doubt, try logging on to your bank account from another computer that is not likely to be infected.

Likewise, Facebook users should keep abreast of the latest in malware transmitted to your computer via your Facebook page, as described in the article WARNING: New Facebook Malware Attack Is Spreading. I'm not a Facebook user and don't plan to be one, (much to the dismay of many of my friends).

Just be careful, folks. If it looks suspicious, it probably is. Just say no to clicking.

The Cat Crashed Vista

2009-10-06T13:04:00.004-04:00

As if Windows Vista didn't have enough stability issues, my cat Baby had to go and break it to the point of inoperability yesterday.

Side note: I swear I'm about to convert to a Mac. The only reason I haven't replaced Vista with XP on my laptop is because I don't want to spend a day and a half reinstalling apps and restoring data and reconfiguring Outlook, which will switch all of my 350+ imported contacts to "Last Name, First Name" format despite my pre-configuring it for "First Name, Last Name" order. That pisses me off every time I restore a PST file, and I'm just not gonna do it again because the manual process of converting all my contacts takes too long and I've already lost too many hours of my life doing it in the past. I'll be lying on my deathbead, cursing Microsoft to give me back those hours!

Anyway, yesterday I had my laptop up on my desk as usual, running side-by-side with my XP desktop that I use for work. The laptop is primarily for school and personal business. It's hard to keep my cat Baby off the laptop—she's drawn to its warmth. Unfortunately, I came back to my desk and found her lying down on the keyboard and touchpad.

On the screen was a bunch of calendar icons showing the date "5," completely covering up the gadget side bar. I realized that Baby had clicked a series of commands that opened up new gadget calendars—a lot of them! First, I removed the cat from the keyboard. Then I planned to click each calendar to close it. No biggie. That should take care of it. Problem was, after the first one closed, the whole operating system froze. Frozen mouse, frozen keyboard. We ain't got no stinkin' Windows!

My only option was to wait. Clearly a CTRL-ALT-DEL intercept was impossible. When the OS didn't un-freeze, I had to cold boot the machine. The desktop finally showed up several minutes later (as Vista is the slowest loading OS in the universe). Again, the "5" icons covered the gadget sidebar. Again, I clicked one to close it, and the OS froze.

Next time I cold-booted it, I reloaded Vista in Safe Mode so that the gadget bar wouldn't load, which it did not. However, in Safe Mode, the stupid gadget control in Control Panel is unavailable. I had to boot again (Normal mode) and try to load Control Panel as quickly as possible so I could go into it and reconfigure the gadgets before the gadget bar loaded.

The problem with that is that whenever I click Control Panel in Vista, I get the little spinning blue circle of death while Control Panel s-l-o-w-l-y loads. Finally I got Control Panel up and was able to disable the option to load the gadgets on Windows startup. That was the extent of what I could do. The gadget settings wouldn't let me remove any gadgets! I even tried resetting the gadget bar to the way it orginally loads in Windows. No go. It still loaded up infinite calendar gadgets.

This left me with no choice but to simply stop using gadgets altogether. This is what we call an "infinite loop" in software. I can't stop the gadget bar from loading infinite calendars unless I start up the gadget bar to attempt to remove the calendars, but starting up the gadget bar causes it to load an infinite number of calendars, freezing up the machine. Catch-22. No more gadgets for this user!

Sigh. I think I'll go shopping on www.mac.com....

Foster-to-Adopt Jelly

2009-10-02T21:51:00.004-04:00

Well, it's been nearly five months since Jelly moved in. It's time to decide whether to keep her or send her back.

It's not too difficult a decision. Despite how she snubs Baby (even when Baby is acting like an angel toward her), Jelly has her good points—including her pathetic squeaking for attention, her irresistible wabble and those practically pinchable chubby cheeks.

The goal was to get Baby a playmate. And although Jelly won't engage in any play despite Baby's daily attempts to get her to wrestle with her, Baby seems to take it all in stride. I am convinced that Jelly is still a good companion to Baby. They keep each other company when I'm not home. Plus, Jelly's the only other one in here whom Baby can see eye-to-eye with. They are on the same level, after all.

One day I think they'll be best friends. It'll probably take months, but it's bound to happen.

Maybe I can get another, younger kitty for Baby one day when I have my own place again (instead of an apartment where I have to abide by someone else's rules). For now, it's just us girls.

Packin' Heat

2009-09-30T21:44:00.005-04:00

My sister-in-law Jacqui (my hero!) sent me email at 0500 hours today containing this photo of her. She'd been up since 0415—something my dad used to call "Oh-dark-thirty." I don't know how she does it.

As you can see from the photo, at the Carolina base where she's preparing for deployment to Afghanistan, it was "Weapons Day" yesterday. She was issued a pistol and an M-16. She is supposed to carry the M-16 with her everywhere she goes throughout training. And, at some point soon, she'll learn how to use it.

I'm sure this isn't what Jacqui had in mind when she went to medical school!

She still doesn't know too much about her future living quarters, although rumor has it that she has to share a tent with about 10 other people. That's something else I'd have trouble doing. I have so much respect for the military. It's not just that they are putting their lives on the line for our freedom and that many get killed or maimed in the process. It's the daily sacrifices they make—leaving their families behind and giving up their lifestyle and the comforts of home to live in a tent in the hot, dry, dusty desert or in the miserable, steamy, mosquito-infested jungle.

They don't get to "go home" every night after work—work that never really ends. There's no private shower or big screen TV with cable. No Simmons Beauty Rest mattress and Egyption cotton sheets to sink into at night. No air conditioning (god forbid). They don't get to eat whatever they want whenever they want it. There's no Starbucks or Barnes & Noble, no movie theater, no picnics in the park. The list goes on.

When most of us travel away from home we stay in a motel or B&B or other "home away from home." Imagine going camping in a foreign country thousands of miles away for nine or eighteen months straight. In the middle of a war, no less. It's the epitome of selflessness. It's takes a special kind of person to do that. Thanks, Jacqui. :)

Life at Camp Bastion, Afghanistan

2009-09-26T09:12:00.004-04:00

My sister-in-law sent this YouTube link of a BBC news report that covers Camp Bastion: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RUpr-1sleg#watch-main-area. She is in the process of deploying there right now. It's neat that she can actually acquire video of her future 'home.'

Right now, Jacqui is in Norfolk, VA, for a couple weeks of training. Then she's off to another base in South Carolina for combat skills training. Then to Kuwait. And finally, Afghanistan.

NutriSystem: Round Two

2009-09-25T20:46:00.003-04:00

Ok, as of today I'm back at it again. The truth is, the NutriSystem diet isn't that bad once you get used to it and determine which foods are good and which ones are worthy of the trash can. Plus, once you start eating well and stick with it, you stop craving the 'bad' foods (like triple-chocolate fudgy brownies).

My second 35-day box of food (weighing 37 pounds) arrived yesterday. That meant a weigh-in today. Last I'd checked, I was down seven pounds. As of now, I'm down nine pounds. I think the weight-lifting routine is finally kicking in.

I wish I could add caridovascular exercise to my routine, but my knee still hurts after a long walk. As soon as I discovered that the "semitendinosus" is a large hamstring muscle, and not a knee muscle, I realized that my problem isn't really a knee problem after all. Rather, my knee pain is actually directly tied to the hamstring muscle that I apparently tore one year ago on September 14th at the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.

From my research, I learned that a semitendinosus tear can cause knee pain. I wouldn't have known this if my sister-in-law hadn't read my knee MRI. She mentioned it may be an irritation of the semitendinosus or bursitis. I finally found out (via the Internet) that the semitendinosus is the exact same muscle I hurt a year ago but hadn't healed.

The doctor here certainly wasn't any help. It's pathetic when you get better medical advice from the Internet than from the M.D. you just paid $750 to spend three minutes with. I told him about the pulled hamstring that hadn't healed in a year, but he totally blew me off. If he'd paid attention and asked more questions, he would've sent me for a thigh MRI, not a knee MRI. I won't be going back to him again. I'm so tired of doctors like him that make you wait then usher you out as quickly as they can before spending more than a few minutes with you.

A word to the wise: If you ever pull or tear a hamstring, stop running. Get off of it, ice it for a few days, take some anti-inflammatories, elevate it, and wear a compression sleeve on it. Let it heal. Now I know this. But back then I did not, and I was too busy getting laid off from my big Wall Street job to even think about seeing a doctor. (I was in shock for a month, so give me a break!) :)

I kept running on it thinking that it was "just a pull" that would go away in time, like most pain. Bad idea. I should've learned from my last year-long bout with plantar fasciitis.

Live and learn. I finally have a thigh compression sleeve and I'm icing the correct muscle (instead of the knee). I haven't run since last November, and I've cut way back on my walking. Maybe it'll get better. If not, well then it's time to find a new orthopedist. Ergh. It sucks getting old!

Destination Afghanistan

2009-09-18T18:31:00.004-04:00

I was blessed with two really cool sisters-in-law. Both Judy and Jacqui are the kind of people that you can't help but like. They're down-to-earth, funny, and deal with life head on. My kind of women!

My sister-in-law Jacqui—who was my inspiration for going back to school—went to med school when she was in her 30's and now is a radiologist and commanding officer for the Navy. She is leaving for Afghanistan this Sunday. A month ago, just three days before Jacqui's 46th birthday, the Navy notified her that she was on the deployment list as first alternate. It was quite unexpected.

Several days later, when the primary officer was let off the hook, Jacqui was notified that she'd be deploying in two weeks. Then she was given a one-week reprieve. Finally, her deployment date is rapidly approaching.

She'll be going to a large British camp about 100-150 miles northwest of Kandahar, literally in the middle of nowhere. Endless miles of nothingness. Dust-storm land. From Camp Bastion it is nothing but flat, dry desert as far as the eye can see. The camp has a fully functioning hospital manned by Brits, Danes, and Americans who have saved a lot of lives over the past few years in the war.

Although Jacqui is currently head of radiology at the naval hospital in Florida where she works, she'll likely be practicing general medicine over there—she's not sure. In fact, she doesn't know much at all about her tour. It's one of those "You'll find out when you get there" things.

Her deployment is supposed to last seven months. But with the military you just never know; it could be longer. Her youngest child Matt is due to graduate from high school in early June, so we're all hoping and praying that she comes back in time for that event. Her eldest child Jason is in the Marines. He's due to deploy to Afghanistan in February. Because their deployments overlap, they won't be able to see each other for over a year.

I know how close Jacqui is to her boys, so it's not going to be easy for any of them. And of course my brother Pete isn't happy about it either. Me, I'd probably be terrifed. I know I certainly wouldn't want to leave my family and wonderful job to go into an unconventional war in a barren land on the other side of the globe. Jacqui has been amazingly strong about the whole thing. She's a true hero, like the rest of our service men and women who have gone off to war.

Sure, I don't like it. But my family and I can only pray that Jacqui and Jason both come home safely and timely. Your prayers are appreciated.

Impulse Control in America

2009-09-15T20:51:00.005-04:00

What's going on? We've got a lawmaker yelling "You lie!" at the Commander-in-Chief during a congressional address. And a tennis player flying off in a profane rage at a line judge for a foot fault call. To top that off, some idiot rapper stole the microphone away from an MTV award winner on stage to let the world know that he thought someone else should've gotten the award.

What do these events have in common? They all took place in front of TV cameras, and we get to see (and hear) it all.

Everyone who knows me knows that I don't blog about politics and I do everything in my power to sidestep politics in the workplace (something that can cost you your job on Wall Street where it doesn't pay not to play). I admit, I've lost it before. Haven't we all gotten so mad about something that we just exploded? But most of us learn to control it by the time we reach middle age.

The difference between us and them is that most of us aren't celebrities or national figures, much less high-ranking political leaders. Most of us aren't being video-taped during our outbursts. And most of us have enough common sense not to lose our cool in very public settings, especially those endowed by the leader of the free world.

So, even though I normally don't blog about politics, when I saw the news blurb tonight that the Legislative branch of our federal government actually took time out to vote on the impropriety of Joe Wilson's outburst, I thought, "Are you kidding me? Isn't this carrying it too far?" Seriously, a "disapproval resolution??" Joe Wilson's behavior was beyond idiotic. Why in the world do our lawmakers need to waste precious resources to vote on it?

Getting back to the point, either this type of unprofessional behavior is far too commonplace these days, or America is just having a bad week. Some of us are a bit stressed because we had to watch the twin towers disintegrate all over again on TV, eight years later. Others of us are probably miffed that the Times afforded Osama bin Laden the title of "Mr." in its latest article about his recent anti-American rants. D.C. folk might be a tad on edge because the Redskins are, once again, 0-1. But there's no good excuse for the childish behavior that we all witnessed this past week.

We expect to see unsportsmanlike conduct in sports arenas because it's gone on for years there and we all know that many sports celebrities are grossly overpaid spoiled brats. Besides, clearly our national sports organizations don't have scruples. First it was the baseball players we idolize all getting caught with their hands in the steroid jar. Then came the Eagles' brilliant hire. How many outfits do you know would hire an ex-con? I'm sorry, but shouldn't there be an NFL rule against that? Maybe the NFL took Vick back because no one else would hire him (because most organizations have the sense to leave convicted criminals off the payroll). But I'm pretty sure it was about winning, and money that winning brings to the organization.

So on the tennis court, Serena's behavior was pretty much on par with what many of us have come to expect of these overpaid sports stars. And I certainly wouldn't put it past a rapper to be a total jack ass in front of the cameras. But I gotta say, I do not expect this type of conduct of one of our own congressmen toward our President.

I used to work for Microsoft. I cannot imagine standing up at a televised company meeting attended by thousands of my peers and screaming at Bill Gates that he is a big fat liar. I'd be fired in a heartbeat and escorted out by security. And that's just a software company.

This, on the other hand, was a televised Presidential address! Was Wilson thinking when he did it, or was it a temporary lapse in judgment based on his uncontrollable rage? Was it pre-meditated, or should he plead insanity?

I don't care if you're Democrat or Republican. This isn't about that, and the media shouldn't make it about that. This is why our country is so divided, because the media makes it so, and forwarded email threads perpetuate the blue vs. red mentality. The world just is not that black and white. Nonetheless, the Times article (naturally) had to go and make a big point about how many Democrats voted against the disapproval resolution and how many Republicans voted for it.

Who gives a rat's patooty? Joe Wilson's embarrassing behavior is no less disrespectful than that of the Bush shoe-thrower. And that guy went to jail for his actions. Did the media report on the shoe-thrower's political affiliation? Nope. Do we care? Nope. But here in America, we sure as heck care. Too often, too much.

This also isn't about the First Amendment. It's one thing to speak your mind and voice your opinion freely; it's an entirely different thing to display unconscionable disrespect to the President of the United States in front of Congress and the world.

Rather, what this should be about is a basic human right that is much more intrinsic than even the right of free speech— and that is our right to be treated with respect and dignity by our fellow human beings.

I'm quite sure that many people disagree with me on this. And that's fine. But to me, this whole Joe Wilson event isn't about agreeing with Obama or disagreeing with the health care plan. And, contrary to popular belief, it's not about being a Republican or a Democrat. It's about common decency. There just isn't enough of it anymore. We can do better than this.

Next week I will be happy to revert to much simpler blog topics, like the love of chocolate or the joy of kitty cats.

NutriSystem: One Month

2009-09-13T09:57:00.002-04:00

Ugh I've only lost 5.5 pounds after over a month of susbsisting primarily on MREs, vegetables, and fruit. Even after virtually giving up my favorite meal of the day—dessert, and all my favorite foods (like cheese, bread, popcorn, and chocolate), I only lost half as much weight as I expected to.

I started lifting weights nearly three weeks ago. I've been doing that five times a week. My knee still isn't 100%, which makes any other form of exercise nearly impossible. Could it be that I've been building muscle mass, which weighs more than fat? We shall see. In my experience, a weight-lifting program will cause either a weight gain or stagnation for the first six weeks; then, suddenly, the pounds start to come off.

Or it could just be wishful thinking.

I looked in my cabinet for lunch earlier this week and screamed, "I'm so sick of NutriSystem!" I think I just skipped lunch that day.

I'm not a big fan of NutriSystem because some of the food tastes so badly that you have to throw it away. Like the breakfast egg fritata - blech! And a few of the dinners that I started to eat but couldn't finish. But now that I know which foods to avoid, maybe I'll have a better go at it next time.

So I ordered another month's subscription through Costco. This time I'll know which foods to pick when I place my order. And I went to the grocery store this week, loading up on about 20 bags of frozen vegetables. Thank god for those steam-in-the-bag microwave vegies—they're easy and good.

Looks like I have another six weeks of this "diet" to look forward to. Yippee.

Sweatshirt Weather!

2009-09-11T21:29:00.003-04:00

After a long, icky, sweaty, sultry hot summer in D.C., we finally had some Seattle weather here today. It was cloudy and gray all day, and cool and breezy. Upper 60's. Just lovely. When I told the postal clerk to "Enjoy the weather!" she probably thought I was nuts. I could've jumped for joy when I stepped outside.

School is in session, and this semester is going to be another killer. I'm taking "Protection of Information Systems," which uses the ~1,200-page Shon Harris CISSP book. The amount of reading I have to do for that class surpasses even Ethics class from this summer. The class technically isn't a CISSP prep course, but I figure that, if I'm going to read so much of the book, I may as well do the whole chibang and take the CISSP exam when the course is over.

It's the kind of test you want to pass on the first try because it costs over $500 to take it.

Certified Information Systems Security Professional (CISSP) is one of the hardest certifications to acquire in the IT industy—also one of the most esteemed and valued by potential employers. I know a handful of people who've passed the 6-hour 250-question test. They're all very smart guys, but even they have told me how incredibly hard the test is. If my brain is still functioning after final exams, I'd like to sit for the test in December or January. We shall see.

I'm also taking a class that I know I'll enjoy, "Computer Law," better known as "Computer Crimes" by the teacher. This is the same teacher that I had for the criminal procedure class that I loved so much last spring. He's a DOJ prosecutor. He's tough, but we all love him.

So far we've been talking a lot about U.S.C. Title 18 Section 1030, otherwise known as the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA), which has only been around since the mid-80's. By constitutional standards, it's a relatively young statute. I'm glad I recently read Cliff Stoll's book (The Cuckoo's Egg: Tracking a Spy Through the Maze of Computer Espionage) about the first documented hacker attack because one of the cases we study in this class is the United States v Robert T. Morris case, and Cliff was one of the folks that help track down RTM, the creator of the first known Internet worm.

Mr. Morris, a graduate student, was convicted under the CFAA for his 1988 release of the worm, which brought down thousands of government Arpanet computers across the U.S. His primary defense was based on his claim that he had no intent to do damage; (and he was basically given a slap on the wrist and a $10,000 fine for his crimes). No intent? Really? That's strange becuase he went to great lengths to hide his tracks.

For example, he released the worm without authorization from MIT's network, not from the Cornell network where he was a student. In addition, he later released his "Oh-crap-what-have-I-done-here's-how-to-kill-the-worm" email from Harvard's computers where he'd formerly had an account, not from the Cornell network. Not only that, but he'd built a fail-safe into his worm ensuring its replication on at least every seventh computer it was passed to, knowing it would multiply at an exponential rate.

All of this stuff fascinates the heck out of me. I love reading about it. I never knew school could be so enjoyable. So this is what's it's like to work on a degree in a field I actually enjoy!

I can't wait for the day that I graduate and can get out there and do work that I enjoy. It's too bad that many of us run off to college at 17 or 18 years of age when we really have absolutely no clue what we want to be when we grow up. I was one of those, and I struggled with it for a good 18 years after that.

Why can't we have the kind of wisdom that comes with middle age when we sign up for college? And the kind of body in middle age that we had when we signed up for college? Just more of life's mysteries....

NutriSystem: Week Two

2009-08-27T13:53:00.005-04:00

I don't recommend shopping at Costco if you haven't had a meal in a few hours. It's even harder to resist the tempting concoctions there if you know your next meal is a 200-calorie NutriSystem entree with two sides of vegetables.

I love Costco food—they have an awesome bakery and deli area, and that's just for starters. One of my favorites there is the brownie bites. Or Berger cookies (only found in this area of the country). They also have great spinach salad, stuffed salmon, and creamy pumpkin cheesecakes and chocolate pies that they put out at Christmas time.

So, at Costco this week, I breezed through the warehouse without looking at anything yummy. I had to avert my eyes and jog past the food-tasting carts that they set up at the end of the aisles with free hand-outs of things like warm cinnamon buns or sausage bites.

I'm not only hungry; I'm disappointed. Thursday marked the end of week two of this NutriSystem diet. Two full weeks of going to bed hungry and feeling an empty stomach about an hour after I've finished a meal. All of that, and I only lost three pounds. Three pounds! I really felt that I deserved more.

Granted, I haven't been burning any calories due to my knee injury. I'm sure that's what has minimized my weight loss. But it's really hard to deprive yourself of life's pleasures day in and day out and not be thoroughly rewarded for it by something more substantial than three pounds!

I so want a cheeseburger. Or a rib eye steak with garlic mashed potatoes. I miss the Whole Foods salad bar and their oatmeal raisin cookies. A couple days ago I had a major craving for peanut butter. I could have opened the jar and spooned it into my mouth. The night before it was popcorn. I just know I'm not going to last another two weeks without popcorn. Aaaagh!

Dan Marino must be a masochist.

The Girls

2009-08-24T15:16:00.006-04:00

Well, Jelly and Baby are getting along better. I see progress every month. As of just a couple days ago, Jelly is willing to jump up on the ottoman to lie down even if Baby is already perched there.

That's a big step for Jelly. And this morning when Baby jumped up on the bed and walked right over Jelly to lie down close to us both, Jelly didn't immediately jump off the bed like she normally would.

Baby has had some really sweet moments. She walks up to Jelly, sits next to her, and licks the side of her face! It's really cute. See, I told you she was really making an effort at this relationship. ;)

Not only that, but Jelly doesn't hiss at her when she does that. So, yes, we're making progress. Slowly but surely.

I wish I could say the same for this stupid NutriSystem diet. I am sorely disappointed after putting up with it for a whole eleven (endless) days now. My overall loss is just 1.5 pounds! I have stuck to the diet but somehow managed to gain back a pound. Ergh.

I know why - it's because I've been stuck indoors resting my knee. If I was outside doing my usual multi-mile walks almost daily, the pounds would probably be melting off.

Still, with all the starving I've been doing eating these low-calorie, low-carb meals—added to the grave suffering I've endured by completely giving up chocolate and popcorn, I feel I deserve more. I better see some improvement by Thursday or I'm gonna have to take drastic measures—like go for the cortisone shot in the knee. Yuk.

Oh, and by the way, I was just kidding when I wrote that the hamburger patty is probably something that you "just add water to" in order to get a burger out of it. Guess what?! I was right! You add boiling water to the plastic tray it comes in and let it sit for two minutes. Then you're supposed to put the soggy burger on a non-existent roll.

Check it out:

NutriSystem: Week One

2009-08-20T10:19:00.003-04:00

I survived a week on NutriSystem without blowing it. It appears I've lost three pounds. Or maybe two. My scale tends to fluctuate. So let's call it 2.5. Not bad for a week of going to bed hungry, although I sure feel like I deserve more! But I won't make jokes about being hungry because it's a very real problem for a lot of people around the globe.

One thing that I've found about this diet is that I'm having the most bizarre dreams. One dream of a couple nights ago was so horrific (involving murder and dismemberment by hatchet), that I won't repeat the specific details here. Early this morning I went through an entire wedding day preparation that involved my ex-husband's little sister (whom I used to babysit back in the 1970's).

I know I could've lost more weight this week if it wasn't for my knee pain preventing me from walking my usual 10-15 miles. But the good news is that, as it turns out, the problem is not a torn meniscus (thank goodness) as previously diagnosed in a hurry by a local orthopaedic surgeon. Thanks to spending my entire $1,000 deductible on an MRI, it was revealed that this is a problem with the semitendinosus tendon—either it's irritated, or the pain stems from bursitis (fluid around the tendon). It sure helps having a sister-in-law who is the head of radiology at a Naval hospital.

At least I know I don't need surgery. I haven't decided whether to go back to the local doctor, who refuses to discuss possible treatment over the phone after all the money I've already shelled out for this. He obviously prefers that I fork over another $500 to sit in his waiting room for an hour and spend three very quick minutes with him before he rushes me out of his office to get to the next patient, only to find out he wants me to come back daily for expensive rehab that I could do myself at home. I just can't afford that right now.

Anyway, I can't believe I lasted a week on a diet. Yuk. I'm just no good at self-deprivation, except when it comes to the really bad addictions, like nicotine. Speaking of which, I just realized that it's been five years to the week since I quit smoking. Hence my chocolate addiction. . . . Oh, well. It could be worse.

NutriSystem: Day Four

2009-08-16T19:30:00.002-04:00

Well, I'm almost done with the fourth day on this NutriSystem thing. Surprisingly enough, I haven't blown it yet. But after a week of this I'm sure I'll be craving some serious chocolate. Lots of it.

I gotta say, this might be an OK way to lose weight for the short-term, but there's no way I could eat this stuff on a regular basis. It's not great. In fact, the "beef pepper steak" I had for dinner was mostly liquid. I actually had to add some brown rice to my plate just to try to absorb some of the soupy stuff that had spread across the entire dinner plate. I couldn't even put my peas on the same plate. They would have drowned.

Same with the stroganoff last night - it was about 70% sauce, 29% little tiny beef-flavored chunks, and 1% pasta. I think there were two small pieces of pasta in the whole thing. Good thing I left that one in its plastic container instead of dumping it on my plate. I didn't like the taste - it reminded me of burnt roux. This is not my mother's stroganoff.

On Wednesday I'll weigh myself and we'll see where this gratification deprivation program is going.... It better be worth it!

NutriSystem: Not for the Hungry

2009-08-14T17:06:00.003-04:00

I don't know what they call the "Freshman fifteen" for grad students, but I'm definitely suffering from it, whatever you want to call it. I've gained about 10 pounds since my last move in December. (Moving is my best weight loss program - works every time.) Between school, studying, a sit-down job, and all my various aches and pains that have forced me to cut down on exercise, I just couldn't keep the pounds off this year.

I've had a bad case of plantar fasciitis in my right foot for over 13 months, plus a painful right hamstring injury of some sort for 11 months that just hasn't healed yet. And today I was diagnosed with a meniscus tear in my right knee that I've had since late June. It's frustrating because walking is my favorite activity. In fact, it's a required activity because I don't own a car. When I lose that ability, it really screws up my day-to-day life.

So since I can't lose weight with exercise right now (and it's too soon to move again!), I thought I'd use my Costco discount to try out NutriSystem for 35 days. I managed to survive the first 1-1/2 days, but here it is 9PM on Day Two and I'm starving. Again. It's Friday night. It's time to put in a Netflix DVD and pop a big bowl of popcorn—in oil, of course! Oh, wait. That's not on my list of "allowed" foods. Drat. The only thing I can have the rest of the day is four servings of vegetables. Yuk. That's just not gonna cut it.

I'm not sure if I can make it a whole month and then some. Last night I was so hungry that I ended up going to bed at 9:30 just so I could sleep through the hunger. It was that or eat something and be a failure on my first NutriSystem day!

I didn't know what to expect when I ordered a month's worth of food online. Would it arrive frozen and packed in dry ice? Who knew? Boy was I disappointed when I discovered that what I got was a 46-pound box of MREs. Now I know what the astronauts get to dine on.

First of all, I don't have room in my apartment for 46 pounds of food. And secondly, I didn't know that a lot of this stuff requires that you add water and watch it grow into food in the microwave. Blech. That's no fun.

Don't get me wrong, the stuff tastes OK. But the portions are so small that you couldn't feed a bird with this stuff. I poured a little bag of cereal out into my bowl this morning and it was barely enough to cover the bottom of the bowl. I ate it in about 90 seconds. And then I was still hungry.

See, this is why I don't diet. For one thing, I can't go around hungry all day. For another thing, I don't like having my daily routine prescribed to me. And I don't like tracking everything I eat on paper. It's a pain and takes the fun out of my day. It's like organized exercise. I'm an adult; I don't want anyone else telling me what to eat or how high to jump. I like my freedom. In fact, I've been single for so long that I'm used to doing whatever I want and being spontaneous about it. If I'm in the mood for steak, I have a steak. A big spinach salad? Sure! Popcorn for dinner because I'm too tired to cook? Popcorn it is!

Those days are gone. With NutriSystem to look forward to, why get out of bed in the morning? Besides the tiny portion size, these NutriSystem meals just aren't appealing. There's a box marked "beef patty" that weighs about the same as six paper clips. I can't even look inside because I'm afraid I'll find out that I need to add water to this bun-less hamburger and call it"dinner."

Sure, I could do this for a month and probably lose 10-12 pounds. But then as soon as I go off, I'm going to want to reward myself with a big bowl of popcorn or some Giradeli triple-chocolate brownies. I'll go right back to my usual eating habits. What's the point?

I'll eat the stuff. I have to. I paid for it. But let me tell you, I don't give myself one more day of making this work. In fact, I probably won't make it through the next hour without making popcorn. I'm just not cut out for this!! Aaaaaagh!

Tanless Summer

2009-08-10T18:46:00.004-04:00

This is the first summer in my recollection that I don't have a tan. I have been indoors too much. That's what summer school (and the D.C. heat and a bad right knee) will do to you. For the Masters program that I'm in, summer session means cramming 3.5 months' work into 10 short weeks. I swear I read over 900 pages of articles about cyber Ethics in that time.

Truth is, some of the ethics stuff was pretty cool - especially an article called The Dark Art of Interrogation by Mark Bowden. Most of us fail to receive ethics training when we enter our computer careers; it should be one of the first things taught and it should be regular corporate IT training. But I digress.

So I stayed inside every single weekend this summer. I had to stop my frequent walks in late June when my right knee went out (and stayed out!) anyway, so I spent the weekends icing my knee and doing school work. I managed to swing two A's out of it, so I can't complain. I am fortunate to have a 4.0 (which isn't saying much because it's based on only one semester's worth of classes because the previous semester's grades in the forensic pre-reqs don't count toward my GPA). We'll see how long it lasts. This ain't rocket science, but it's not undergrad school either. It takes a lot more effort to get an A than I'm accustomed to.

And, needless to say, it looks like I'm going to be unemployed again soon because the contract I'm working on is going south. There's nothing like paying two different companies to do the same job. Oops. I now have clarity on the phrase "good enough for government work," which my mom used to say to me when I was a kid. Need I say more?

That's OK. I'll survive. This job wasn't "me" anyway; I really didn't like the work, which didn't last long. It's been exactly five months since I started. But the staff has basically been sitting around the past eight weeks while the government works out the contract mess they're in, and I couldn't take much more of that. It's not easy spending eight hours a day doing next to nothing.

Besides, I'm ready to get out of IT work and do real forensics work. I can't wait until that day arrives. I'll have to start at the bottom and work my way up, but it'll be worth it to finally do something I'm passionate about. It's time I made my contribution to society—something beyond helping big-time corporate execs make their multi-million dollar bonuses. Ick.

It's corny, but I have a need to contribute to the greater good, not just be another cog in the corporate wheel. And I need a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a job that I'm excited about. If I can work in a law enforcement digital forensics lab for the same pay I was making in 1996—which is probably the way it'll go—I'll be happy. :)

Help Eliminate Binding Arbitration Agreements

2009-07-26T20:32:00.004-04:00

Below is the crux of a letter that I'm sending to my Congressmen this week. (I've eliminated the first paragraph that contains personal information.) For more information, see the Arbitration Fairness Act of 2009. If you want to help save the consumer against the perils of big business gone bad, there's still plenty of time to contact your legislative representatives.

8
A couple of years ago I decided to have LASIK surgery to correct my poor vision. I didn't know anything about "binding arbitration" then. Just before going into surgery, I was asked to sign an arbitration agreement. When I read the agreement, I thought to myself, "They can't do that. Don't I have a constitutional right to a trial?" I questioned the doctor about it; she told me "Oh, that just means you have to go to arbitration first." She indicated that it didn't mean I was giving up any rights.

I was reluctant to sign the agreement but they would not perform the surgery without it. I'm just a consumer. I don't carry a lawyer around in my back pocket. I'd already sacrificed several hours' wages to make the 45-minute drive to the surgeon's office for various appointments. In addition, a friend of mine had driven me to the surgeon's office that day and I didn't want to inconvenience her. I felt like I had to go through with it. Without really understanding my rights, I signed the document and had the surgery.

To make a long story short, the surgery was botched, leaving me with a decentered ablation in my left eye. My vision is beyond blurry – it is blotchy, inconsistent, hypersensitive to light, it has floaters, and it is not correctible by any means – not by glasses, contacts or even another surgery. I've lost a lot of work time and wages since then, seeing many doctors and dealing with the big laser vision company and all the hoops they've made me jump through. I have headaches that render me unable to function at my job where I am unable to focus on the computer all day. I can't drive a car safely or drive at night at all.

Essentially, this surgery ruined my life. I can barely do my computer job, yet I have no legal recourse. Whenever I think about arbitration agreements and the unsuspecting consumers who sign them, I question how any such contract that removes my Sixth Amendment right to a trial can be legal.

Out of justice and fairness, please vote for the Arbitration Fairness Act of 2009. Your support is appreciated by American consumers everywhere.
7

New Toy for Jelly

2009-07-04T19:41:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I went to the Pet Sage store to get cat food—they only sell the good stuff (all natural with no meat by-products).

Because Jelly is such a toy lover, I picked up two new toys. One is a wand with a dark fur band and rattle attached to the end. The other is just a little white fur band with feathers.

When I got home I put all my bags on the counter and floor of the kitchen and left to return the ZipCar across the street, a task that took all of maybe nine minutes. When I came back, I unloaded the groceries first, then I called the kitties to the kitchen, "Come see your new toys!"

I started taking the kitty stuff out of the cloth Whole Foods bag when I noticed that the feather toy was missing. I looked around for it. I thought back to when I checked the ZipCar for personal items before locking it up. It hadn't fallen out of the bag. Hmmm. Did I drop it in the parking garage? Did I even buy it to begin with?

I checked the receipt. Yup, I was charged for both toys but had come home with just one of them. So I called the store to ask if I'd left it behind on the counter when I checked out. They said they hadn't seen it but offered to refund my credit card. I took them up on it and said I'd just pick up another feather toy on my next visit.

A little later I went into my office (also known as the kitties' room). Almost immediately, I noticed the missing feather toy on the rug, half-buried in a pile of other kitty toys, the sales tag still attached. I wondered, "How did that get in here?"

A moment later I realized who the culprit was. While I was returning the ZipCar, Jelly had gone into the Whole Foods bag and retrieved only the feather toy out of the bottom of the bag, transporting it in her teeth to her toy haven. I couldn't believe how quickly she found it.

Of course, I immediately called the store and told them to cancel the credit. The woman was laughing and said of the feather toy, "Well at least we know it's a hit!"

I've never had a cat who enjoyed toys as much as Jelly. What a nut! Too bad she and Baby haven't become friends yet. :(

Case Dismissed

2009-07-01T21:52:00.006-04:00

In case you've been following my story here about my deadbeat ex-tenant who never paid me one dime in rent and has made a career out of cheating creditors out of their money, here's a quick update.

Tonight I logged into the U.S. Bankruptcy Court web site to get the latest on the case. The confirmation hearing was scheduled for July 7, and any objections to the Ch. 13 Plan my debtor filed had to be submitted by June 30. I submitted my (three-page) objection, based on bad faith, last week. I checked the web site every couple days to see if my objection was logged. Tonight when I checked, instead I saw an "Order of Dismissal."

Woo-hoo! I queried the records. Turns out, the bankruptcy case was dismissed just yesterday because the debtor didn't file her tax returns as required. Probably because she either cheated on them or lied to the court about her income. Actually, I just learned recently from the online creditor register on her case that she owes the IRS $39,000. That's in addition to all the state taxes that she owes. So she simply doesn't pay taxes—year after year.

So, I'm relieved. Not because I'll be getting any money out of her anytime soon, but because this case was a big stressor in my life that I didn't need right now. (Like anyone needs a legal suit anytime.)

The bad news is I can't garnish her wages. Today's her last day of work on her current job. I ran to Kinko's tonight (got there 7 minutes before closing) to fax the dismissal paperwork to the wage garnishment department at my debtor's employer. She probably has at least one last paycheck coming to her. If the wage garnishment department doesn't screw me (again), then I should get 25% of whatever her remaining pay is from there. We shall see.

Then I need to follow her to her next job (if anyone will hire her) and try to beat the IRS and the state comptroller to her wages. Sigh.

Kitty Conundrum

2009-06-28T20:48:00.005-04:00

The kitties are still here, still running lukewarm and cold with each other. And even calling it "lukewarm" is a stretch. There was one sweet moment that gave me hope last week when one of the kitties licked the other, and vice-versa. But it wasn't long before Baby was chasing down Jelly and I'd find my poor chubby baby four paws up, defenseless against my vicious princess.

One minute they're sitting next to each other on the ottoman, the next it's mayhem. Tonight they were both on the ottoman when Baby reached down and licked Jelly on her back. Jelly turned, hissed, and jumped off the ottoman. Rejected again! I think Baby lashes back because she's truly made an effort to be friends, but Jelly maintains her independence. She's just not a cat person.

I'm not giving up on them, though. I just can't. It's not like Jelly is afraid of Baby. If she was, she wouldn't walk right past Baby two minutes post-attack, as if nothing ever happened. And Baby is all bark and no bite, so I'm not worried about anyone getting hurt. We'll keep giving it another week and see what happens.

One of my cat friends from King Street Cats suggested I go away for a long weekend. Chances are, I'll come home and they'll be best friends.

Hello, Secret Service

2009-06-19T16:59:00.015-04:00

There was an email at work last night about some K-9 sniffing drill going on in the parking garage this morning. I delete any emails having to do with parking, so I didn't read the whole thing.

About mid-morning I looked up from my computer and saw a couple strange men walking past my office door. The third guy to walk by had a small dog (with a big nose) on a leash. Like everyone else, I stepped out to see what was happening.

It turns out the K-9 sniff was building-wide. Our office is on the 12th (and highest) floor. Anyone who asked 'why the sniff' was told that it's just a drill.

It was about 12:50PM when a bunch of people were gathered in our kitchen looking out the window. Someone reported that Obama was coming at 1:00. We all hung out by that window for the next half hour, debating whether it was the President or his wife coming to visit. We watched local police blockade the street below our building and keep people off the street. We watched and laughed as police turned away a jogger running blindly through the plaza, headed straight for the entrance to our building intended for the presidential limo. This happened to several pedestrians beneath us.

In the reflection of the building windows directly across N. Pierce Street from our building, we could see at least two snipers, maybe three, on the roof above us. One of my colleagues took a photo in the reflection itself and emailed it to us later.

We waited. We joked. We got impatient. But we were all too excited to leave that window. Someone asked what's the charge code for frivolity. I had a Change Advisory Board meeting scheduled for 1:00 but none of us cared. Three of us raised our arms, announcing we had a quorum. Meeting over. So much for change management.

Finally, around 1:20, the suits on the street started to scramble and move into place. Secret Service. Then about 12 motorcycle cops came around the corner from Clarendon Blvd. and lined up in two-by-two formation on the street beneath our building. Several black motorcade vehicles followed, very quickly. There were two limos (one is always the decoy). The second limo pulled directly into a "tent" stood up outside the garage entrance. Then people in dark suits jumped out of all the vehicles, running under the tent. Following them were at least a dozen press personnel.

I shot pics with my LG phone and, of course, called Mom to tell her the President was entering our building. He was on the 3rd floor, which put me about 90 feet from him, as the crow flies straight up. That's probably the closest I've ever been to the President of the United States.

He stayed an hour. I didn't watch the departure (I was too busy downloading photos from my phone). It was just 49 minutes later that the news article popped up on my Google home page. The President was there visiting Year Up, a nonprofit program that trains 18-to-24-year-olds from urban backgrounds for college or professional work.

Pretty exciting stuff!

Sultry Hot Here!

2009-06-12T20:18:00.006-04:00

The last time I was this miserable was when I lived in Maryland. It is unbearably humid here. Each morning I dread getting out of bed.

On the weekdays, I get up in the morning, spend time on the makeup and getting my thick hair all smooth and shiny with the curls finally resting in all the right places. I go outside, walk back to the corner, wait three minutes for the light to change, and walk the other direction to the Metro. Sometimes I have to run to make my train because the stupid walk light take eons.

Usually the escalator is broken at the Metro (it's a 50-50 chance). When it's out of commission, I take the two flights of stairs up to the outdoor platform and wait about six minutes in the thick hot air for the yellow train. I get into a barely air-conditioned car and start fanning myself with whatever ethics article I am supposed to be reading for class.

A couple minutes later I get off at the first stop and wait up to four minutes outdoors for the blue train. If I'm lucky there is a slight breeze. I get on board into a sometimes air-conditioned car. If I'm lucky I get a seat. By now I feel that one single droplet of sweat drip all the way down my back and into my waist band.

I fan myself. Depending on how many times the train stops and sits waiting for the platform ahead to clear, about twenty to thirty minutes later I get off at the Rosslyn station. I cross the platform and climb as far as I can up the 6-story escalator (one time I counted over 90 steps). Sometimes I stop to rest before continuing. I get to the top of the outdoor station and start walking up Wilson Boulevard to my office. I feel the hot sun searing my back.

Usually I'm carrying my purse, my eco-bag containing shoes, lunch, water bottle, etc., and my school book satchel. I hike several blocks all uphill to my office. I arrive in the un-airconditioned lobby, commiserate with the miserable security guard, and wait for one of the three slow elevators. I fan myself.

Eventually I make it to the 12th floor and go straight to the bathroom to dry off with paper towels and try to repair my hair. The back of my shirt is soaked. My underwear is soaked. The makeup is running off my shiny face - not worth fixing, so I just pat it dry. My mascara is smudged, giving me racoon eyes. My scalp is sweaty. My bangs are gone, having been replaced with curly, pointy, frizzy hair spikes sticking out from my forehead in multiple directions. My hair has doubled in size and is surrounded by a halo of frizz.

I look in the mirror and reiterate out loud how much I hate living here. I'm reminded that I have to face another eight hours on a job I hate. I walk to the office suite wanting nothing but a cool shower and a fresh change of clothes—something I won't be privy to for another 14 hours if it's a school day.

Someone says good morning and I grunt back, walking briskly to my dark office where I ensure that the thermostat is cranked down. I turn on the fan on my desk and plop myself in front of it. I put down my ethics fan and sit to change shoes. I'm so hot that all I can think about for the next 30 minutes is cooling off. Anyone who dares stop by my office and ask me to do work is immediately shunned with the fakest of smiles.

Thirty minutes later I feel a sinus infection coming on because I'm sitting in a blissfully freezing cold room in my still-damp clothes. I try to work. After about an hour my clothes are somewhat dry.

Eight hours drag miserably by, I change back into my walking shoes, and I do the humidity commute all over again.

Mean Girls

2009-06-07T16:57:00.005-04:00

Last weekend Baby transformed into one mean girl. I think she got fed up with Jelly ignoring her after repeated attempts to get Jelly to "play" with her—the Baby version of playing, which is more like fighting than playing.

Three times I saw Baby chase Jelly down and attack her. Each time I yelled louder and made sure Baby knew that her behavior was not OK. I also stopped play-fighting with Baby (despite her requests to the contrary), something we used to do every night.

I think she got the message. She's been much sweeter to Jelly this week. I think Jelly is starting to chill a little, too. She still hisses when Baby ventures too close to sniff her, but I witnessed at least two encounters where Jelly resisted hissing. Maybe Jelly is finally starting to cave.

For a chubby little girl, Jelly sure is an active cat. She never stops squeaking at me, she loves to play with toys, and she runs around a lot. She's quite demanding of attention, constantly asking to be brushed or petted or fed catnip. And she eats twice as much as Baby

So, we're still hanging in there, despite the disastrous encounters of last weekend. We'll see what happens the coming week . . . .

Liar, Liar, Debtor on Fire!

2009-05-31T19:54:00.005-04:00

I hate hearing about Welfare abuse—people taking advantage of the system that is designed to benefit those who are truly in need. Recently I learned of another such abuse—it's called filing for bankruptcy so you don't have to pay your bills.

Here's how it works. You rack up a bunch of bills like student loans and credit card debt. You sign a lease to rent a much larger, newer, luxury home to replace your cheesy apartment. You trade in your Kia SUV for a new 2008 Lincoln. You're living the high life as a single person making about $90,000 a year. As soon as you have everything you need, and you've racked up about $60,000 in debt and court judgments, you pay a lawyer half of his $3,000 fee and declare bankruptcy. Even if you are ineligible, you still get to do that. It's the law. And as soon as it happens, your creditors aren't allowed to collect a dime from you.

The system works for people who have lost their jobs and their homes, or for the seriously ill who have depleted their savings on medical care. It probably also works for people who lost their life savings to scum like Bernie Madoff. But it should not work for people like my ex-tenant who signed a lease but never payed me one dime in rent. And yet it does.

On Friday I lost another day's pay (plus the cost of a ZipCar rental) to drive an hour and 45 minutes to Baltimore to attend something called a "341 Creditors Meeting." My debtor was there, with her very young attorney. There is no judge at this meeting, just a Trustee, his assistant, and a very small audience of other indigents and their attorneys. I was the only creditor.

The first few cases I sat through went very quickly. There were no anomalies. When time came for my debtor's case to be called, the Trustee whispered something to his assistant and then brought in other people from the waiting room (who were scheduled for a later meeting). He knew that my debtor's case was a doozie, so he deliberately let others go first.

This might be because I'd sent him a 5-page report outlining fourteen false or otherwise inconsistent statements or claims that my debtor had made in her bankruptcy petition. The facts were all backed up based on information I obtained through my own investigation. (I spent a lot of time on this!)

When my debtor's case was called, I was invited to the table by the Trustee (whom I could tell was a man who does not take crap from people). Sitting directly next to the Trustee, I saw him silently read through my 5-page letter. The other parties at the table were unaware of what he was looking at. I was inwardly pleased that he cared. He then hid the letter beneath other paperwork in the thick file for my ex-tenant (let's call her G.S., but believe me, she's no girl scout).

After her identity was established and she was sworn in, G.S. was asked if everything in her paperwork was correct. That was Lie #1 (otherwise known as perjury). The Trustee first told her that she hadn't submitted her tax returns by the deadline and then called her to the mat on several other items in her paperwork.

This turned out to be the longest bankruptcy case of the morning. At one point the attorney claimed that he "thought" they'd filed an amended petition correcting one of the falsities that the Trustee nailed them on. This peeved the Trustee, who asked the attorney just when exactly such amendment was filed. Neither G.S. nor her lawyer could answer. The Trustee looked at his computer and said with the slightest aggravation, "It's not in the system" before continuing his questions.

Aside from other paperwork issues, G.S. actually failed to list two of her four previous bankruptcy filings, which she claimed that she didn't think she had to list because they were dismissed. The Trustee corrected her, indicating that the question clearly asks for all previous filings, not discharges, and that she'd failed to list a 2003 and a 2004 bankruptcy. Her statement of financial affairs failed to list her 2007 income. She failed to list any law suits within the past year, of which the Trustee knew there were two. Several amendments would have to be made to the petition.

The Trustee also asked her why I was not listed as a creditor, as I'd indicated in my letter to him. Instead, G.S. had listed the court (and the wrong amount for the judgement awarded to me). That too would have to be corrected in the petition.

The trustee questioned her $732/month charitable contribution claim on her list of monthly expenses. (Just like I later questioned how she could spend $250/month in gas.) She claimed the donations were for her church, and the Trustee asked if she could provide proof.

He brought up other inconsistencies that I'd outlined in my report, like the disclosure of compensation (to her attorney) showing three different amounts across the paperwork. He asked her if she'd had other bank accounts in the past year. On her paperwork she'd listed "none," but now, caught in another lie, she was forced to disclose three accounts she'd closed so I couldn't garnish them. When asked why she hadn't included it on her petition, she mumbled she must've forgotten.

He asked her if the Comptroller of Maryland was still garnishing her wages$mdash;a $2,458/month expense she claimed on her paperwork. That, too, was a lie, and I knew it. When he asked her if she'd sold or given away any property valued at over $200 in the past two years, I made a note on my legal pad.

Finally it came time for me to ask questions. First thing I said to her was, "Ms. S., you stated earlier that you hadn't sold or given away anything valued at $200 or more in the past two years, correct?" She reluctantly answered "Yes," not knowing what I knew. I looked directly at her and said, "What happened to your Kia Sorento?" I knew she'd traded it in on a new Lincoln just six weeks prior to her bankruptcy filing.

The look on her face. She stammered. "Uh... uh..." She started to answer but wasn't sure what to say. It's horrible being caught in a lie. She looked at her attorney, asking if she had to answer. He told her yes. She finally admitted, "I traded it in."

I questioned why she put $2566/month as her rent, when I knew it was $2200/month. She claimed she'd spread the security deposit out over six months (which is not rent). I caught her lying about her income, asking her which was the truth, "the time you said under oath on November 20, 2008, that your gross income is $10,000 a month, or the time you said under oath it is $7,500 a month?" She stammered again. "Uh... I was talking about gross income."

"So was I."

"Uh. . . it's closer to $7,500. . . I guess."

I asked her why she got a car loan for $37,885 for a car she claims is only worth $22,400 on her paperwork. She got defensive and said "It wasn't for that much" (a lie). This went on a little while longer before the Trustee nicely said I could have one more question since there were so many people waiting. I did. In the end, there were over a dozen "amendments" that she needed to make to her petition and her Ch. 13 plan. Of all the other cases in the room that day, not one change was needed. G.S. needed enough changes for several days' worth of cases.

If I was a judge, I'd dismiss the case now.

This is what I don't get. She still gets her confirmation hearing in July. She's guilty of perjury (many times over—in both this case and in mine against her last year), and yet she still gets relief from paying any of her debts. The honest, trustworthy creditors are the losers. What's wrong with this picture?

The whole thing sucks. Believe me, I've learned my lesson about giving the poor person with bad credit a "chance" because she's truly trying to clean up her credit so that she can buy my home from me. Get this - she used the same exact ruse on her new landlord in her new luxury town house that she moved into just six weeks before declaring bankruptcy.

She's a scam artist. Well, I guess you gotta be good at something. It's too bad that the courts give these thieves the benefit of the doubt as well.

Kitty Playland

2009-05-22T19:14:00.008-04:00

I came home from work tonight to find cat toys scattered everywhere. It seems little miss Jelly Belly is a toy freak.

A few days ago I woke up and found a toy mouse in my bed. That's a first. Later I saw Jelly with a toy that I hadn't seen in eons. In fact, it's so old that it was one of Martin's early toys. I had no idea where she'd found it. The next day I saw another old mousie out on the floor that had never interested Baby.

I still wasn't sure where Jelly had found it until later when I was in my home office. Beyond the loveseat on the floor was a cat toy basket that I'd forgotten about, which had been stored on one of the lower shelves of my book case. I can picture Jelly standing up on her hind legs pulling it off the shelf. I'm sure that's exactly what happened.

Trust me, she's not destructive. She just loves her toys!

I wish she'd love Baby as much.

I am so proud of Baby. We've had Jelly for two weeks now. At first Baby gave her a hard time, chasing her down, and I felt sorry for Jelly. I was afraid that Baby would never give up the fight. But within 10 days Baby was like a new cat. She has tried several times to make friends with Jelly. And now Baby is literally falling over at Jelly's feet in an effort to be friends, but whenever Baby gets a tad too close, no matter how gentle and unagressive she is, Jelly hisses at her and walks away.

Earlier I gave them each some catnip on the kitty scratch pad. Jelly immediately started eating her pile of catnip; Baby started rolling in hers. (These are typical responses for each of them.) They were inches apart and all was fine for a minute until Jelly got hissy. Baby just looked at her as if to say, "Rats! I wish you'd play with me."

I'm still giving it time. Jelly is such a cute little girl. That squeak of hers makes me laugh. And the past three nights she's slept on my pillow just like Martin use to do, wrapped around my head.

Baby is really making an effort to be friends. When she gets in her playful mood at night she tries even harder to get Jelly's attention, but Jelly will have nothing to do with such foolishness.

We'll see. It could be that Jelly is better off as a single cat. Or, they might be best friends a couple weeks from now.

One Week with Jelly Belly

2009-05-15T18:16:00.008-04:00

I must say, this is the third time I've tried (in as many years) to introduce a new cat to an existing cat in our home. I guess the third time is a charm, because things are really looking up for Baby and Jelly Belly.

I kept them separated the first day and a half. Sneaky little Jelly Belly managed to get out and was basically chased down and attacked by Baby three times. That's how the weekend went.

On Monday I worked from home. I have a tall stand-up desk in my home office that Baby likes to grace her presence with while I'm working. I figured that was a good time to let JB out of her space and let her wander around. Baby would feel safe up high, and the two would be able to observe one another without directly interacting.

In fact, I worked at home the first four days of the week and repeated the process each day. It seems to have worked. That, and the constant praising and petting of both of them to reassure them that they are both good girls. Trust me, that part makes a big difference!

I was also careful to quelch all of my "fears" about the relationship not working. Cats reign when it comes to reading human emotion. So I remained as positive and indifferent as possible, and I think both of them got good vibes.

After a couple days of that, I let them out in the same room where each was basically on the same level as the other. I had to break up relatively few skirmishes, each of which was less severe than the previous, until it primarily seemed to be nothing more than posturing.

Even as the two girls jockeyed for position, I was soooooo proud of Baby. She improved on getting past the whole "alpha stance" behavior much more quickly than I imagined. Jelly Baby has been quite a brave soul and relatively fearless—not to mention thankfully unaggressive toward Baby. I think that her easy-going personality has a lot to do with the success of this project.

Today I left home and went into my office to work, but I kept the girls separated; they weren't ready for unsupervised visitation with one another. When I got home, I let them both out. Each day they walk a bit closer to one another, with JB generally (and carefully) giving Baby a wide berth.

It was so cute. Baby went up to JB very gently and slowly, and she just sniffed the tip of her tail. Clearly she was making an effort. But JB hissed! Later, when Baby wasn't looking, JB walked up to her where she was lying on the carpet and sniffed at her tail in the same fashion. Baby turned, swatted with one paw, hissed, and threatened to attack.

But moments later both were fine. If I remain positive and continue with the hearty approbation, I think this is going to work!

Kitty v5.0

2009-05-11T17:45:00.005-04:00

This weekend I volunteered at King Street Cats, helping out with Saturday adoptions. Of the 24 kitties that we are sheltering now, one of them was adopted yesterday - yay!

Um, and guess who was the adopter? Little did I know that I'd be coming home with Kitty version 5.0, but this little girl touched my heart and I just had to try her out as a companion for Baby. Starting next week, I'm going to be gone about 15 hours a day on Mondays and Tuesdays, and I hate to leave Baby alone that long. So I hope this works out.

The new kitty already has a new name, so that's a good sign. (Remember New Kitty the spaz from a year ago?) Well, this newer kitty was called Sable at first. You can see her on petfinder.org. Not unlike Baby, this poor thing has had two previous families - both military; both left her behind when re-stationed. Despite the trauma she has endured, she couldn't be sweeter. She's actually a snuggler! I'd never met a cat that snuggles with humans. And she squeaks. She's very talkative, but it comes out as a squeak, not a meow. It's so cute!

She's a slightly chubby Tuxedo—which just means an all-black cat with white feet, chest, and face. I Googled Tuxedo cat and found out that T.S. Eliot called these black-and-white cats "Jellicle Cats." A while after reading that, I was sitting on the floor with Sable when she walked away from me. I took one look at her squarish body and that paunch of hers, and out of my mouth came the words, "Jelly Belly!" She had a new name.

Baby is not pleased. I'm keeping the girls separated. Twice they accidentally ended up in the same room, and before I could stop it, an evil Baby (whom I didn't recognize as my sweet, lovable Chantilly kitty) viciously chased down Jelly Belly and attacked her. When I separated them and a couple chunks of fur settled to the floor, poor JB was lying on her back, all four paws up in the air. Now she's scared of Baby.

I have told Baby that she's made it quite clear that she is officially the Alpha cat, and she needs to leave it at that.

The reason this kitty captured my heart is she is what's called an "all-four declaw," which essentially means she's suffered through ten amputations. It's inhumane and can scar a cat for life (psychologically), not to mention leave the poor animal with all kinds of physical problems. Remember, when these 10 amputations occur, the cat isn't given a wheel chair to get around in—it still has to walk on all fours while they slowly heal, and it's excruciating.

On her first day here, Jelly Belly would try to jump up on the bed. But she'd miss and slide down the side. It about killed me to see that. She's only five years old and she's not that fat, so I couldn't understand why she couldn't jump up on the bed. Later I noticed that she frequently displays balance problems trying to walk. It's primarily in her hind legs. That's when I realized why she can't jump up on the bed - it's because she's an all-four declaw. She'll have problems walking and balancing for the rest of her life.

Many people don't realize the mutilation that declawing entails; when I was younger, I used to be one of those people who thought it was OK to get a cat's front claws removed. Now that I know how painful it is and the lasting effects it has on a cat, I'd never ever put a cat through that again. And a four-paw declaw is just cruel.

It breaks my heart. All the more reason to hope and pray that Baby will warm up to her and become her best friend. Jelly is going to need lots of loving.

Fingers are crossed! This girl is a real sweety, and I hope I can keep her.

No Justice for us Good Tax-paying Folk

2009-05-10T18:34:00.008-04:00

If you want to learn how to screw your landlord out of his or her money, read on for some tips. I've learned a lot over the past 18 months from my deadbeat ex-tenant, who continues to get away with not paying me a dime despite the court order that she do so.

Unfortunately, it doesn't matter if someone breaks a lease, takes money from you, never pays their taxes, repeatedly commits perjury, doesn't show for trial, lies to the court about her whereabouts that day, and files a fraudulent bankruptcy petition (also chock full of lies) to stop a wage garnishment—the justice system ultimately errs on the deadbeat loser's side.

It's been nine months since the Court awarded a judgment in my favor. I haven't seen one dime from my ex-tenant the loser.

Thanks to the loser defendant's repeated schemes designed to get out of paying me, I find myself spending more time and money on this case. And unfortunately, it ain't over yet.

For one thing, she lied under oath throughout our case, and got away with it. She lied about her employment status and provided a false residential address on her responses to interrogatories, which are in written form but are signed under oath and penalty of perjury. She didn't show up for trial, then had the gall to write a letter to the court three weeks later saying she'd been called out of town on a "family emergency" on the day of trial. Accompanied by that letter was her request for a new trial, a request that she'd missed the deadline for by 10 days.

The problem is that the judge that reviewed the letter and illegal motion for a new trial must've been sleeping, because he/she called for a hearing, in complete disregard for proper procedure (and law). Never mind that I'd won the judgment, and the judgment was absolutely final as of ten days post-trial. Because some judge or clerk wasn't paying attention, I had to go back to court during Christmas week, to appear for the defendant's motion.

Guess what? The defendant did not show to argue her own motion. The judge literally laughed at the absurdity of us being there at all. (Why couldn't this have been the judge who reviewed the ludicrous motion?) My attorney and I were walking down the aisle away from the bench, and the judge couldn't stop laughing. We never should have been there that day.

So you'd think that would be it, right?

Wrong. It's difficult to get an uncooperative defendant to confess assets. When mine didn't do that (as ordered by the court), my lawyer had to remind her. So, last November, a full 60 days after the deadline, she responded to interrogatories yet again. And she lied yet again—claiming all her bank accounts (3 separate checking accounts) had a zero balance, and that she owns virtually no furniture, no clothing, no car, has no retirement accounts, etc.

So then I had to file a motion to compel her to come to court, bring specific financial records, and orally confess her assets to me in front of a judge. This was scheduled to happen on April 20 of this year.

Meanwhile, I had been unable to garnish the defendant's wages because I had to get in line behind the Comptroller of Maryland. Seems my deadbeat ex-tenant had a bad habit of not paying taxes. When I checked the court record, I found five tax liens against her, dating back six years. She somehow evaded paying over $60,000 in taxes. Most of that was written off in a Chapter 7 bankruptcy that was discharged on behalf of the defendant just three years ago.

The defendant had an attorney buddy call my lawyer early on in our case. This two-bit lawyer never entered an appearance and therefore couldn't legally represent her. But that didn't stop him from calling my attorney and lying about the defendant's employment status. He told my attorney, "You'll never get a dime out of her. She's unemployed. And she'll just file bankruptcy again." My lawyer was worried when he heard that, and so was I.

But I'd done my own investigation and found out about the defendant's previous bankruptcy. She had to wait eight years to be eligible for bankruptcy again. Great! Maybe there was hope yet.

Then later on, again based on hours and hours of my own investigation over several days that included Labor Day weekend last year, I tracked down her employer and found out she'd lied under oath about being unemployed. (That was also when I found out that she'd lied about being out of town on the day of our trial.) The garnishment would start as soon as her tax levy was paid off. Unfortunately, I lost my job two weeks later.

I did the math and found out that my garnishment would start in mid-April of this year. I was looking forward to collecting 25% of her wages every month until she left that job, which was a contract due to expire on June 30 of this year. I was due to collect just a few thousand dollars this way—only a portion of the judgment—but it would be a start.

In March, I did a little more investigating and discovered that the defendant had purchased a $38,000 Lincoln at the Ford dealership and had upgraded from her $1,300/month apartment to a new 2,100-square foot $2,200/month luxury town house. Her income was still the same. She still was paying a dime on her mounting student loans. She still owed me over $25,000.

And yet she was living in the lap of luxury, conning more suckers into signing leases with her and loaning her money that they'll never see a dime of. (As of March her credit rating had sunk to 466. She used her mom to co-sign the car loan application with her.)

On April 20 I gave up a day's pay and $75 for a ZipCar rental to drive up to Maryland for our court date. It was a nightmare. I was on the docket for "orals," which were supposed to start at 1:15PM. When I walked in at 12:45, a long-winded case was dragging out. I could tell it wasn't about to come to a close.

Finally, at 1:15, the judge stood up, announced she had to go get something to eat, and would be back within a half hour. She said that since there was no food in the building, she had to go off site and might take longer. I was worried because I knew I had to be out of there by 3:30PM to make it to class that evening.

So I sat on the hard wooden pew as the clock ticked off an hour. I'd spoken to the clerk already to let him know my situation. But I worried the entire time. The defendant hadn't shown, but if I walked out, there was nothing I could do to discover her assets. So I stayed and waited.

Finally the judge came back. I thought she was going to go back to that lengthy case, but she did the right thing and took the quick cases first, followed by orals. I was out by 2:30, but it was all bad news. When my turn came and I stood in front of the judge, she pulled out a piece of paper stating that the defendant had filed for bankruptcy the day before. I know my jaw dropped open. I didn't say one word. I knew the defendant wasn't eligible for bankruptcy, but somehow she'd gotten away with filing a petition for Ch. 13.

My heart sank. It was already a rotten day. I'd missed a day's pay. The hour-long drive up had been in pouring, blinding rain. My hair was toast. Now I had to bttle traffic back to VA, and I was going back empty handed. All that for nothing. My ex-tenant had managed to screw me again.

Hence began my investigation into the defendant's bankruptcy, into bankruptcy code in general, and into the MD bankruptcy court system. These things take time. Plus the paperwork I had to fill out to file a claim. Seems the loser forgot to put me down as a creditor on her petition. She knows I'm the creditor but listed the court as the creditor of the judgment instead, probably on the advice of her sleazy lawyer who never should have filed the bankruptcy to begin with (which, by the way, costs $3,000 to do). Not surprising. Maybe she thought I wouldn't find out about it and would miss the creditor's meeting on May 29 (that'll be another holiday week ruined with yet another trip to court to continue to battle this loser—not to mention, another day's pay lost).

I went through her bankruptcy report, which is downloadable online (for a fee, of course), and found several inconsistencies (read: lies) about her assets monthly living expenses. ($285 for a phone bill??) She even lied about the amount of rent she's paying, putting down $2566 instead of $2200. She lied about the tax levy, which shouldn't have shown up on the report at all because it was paid off. In addition, she exagerrated the amount of the levy. She lied about her monthly wage amount on her 11/20/08 interrogatories, as I found out from the bankruptcy petition.

So I spent hours yesterday before going to my volunteer job, writing up all these (and more) 'inconsistencies' to send to the trustee, along with my claim form. According to a bankruptcy attorney I spoke with last week, this particular trustee in Baltimore is pretty smart and doesn't let anyone pull the wool over his eyes. I hope that's true.

Unfortunately, that doesn't help me now. I received a letter from the Court stating that she is ineligible for bankruptcy—but that doesn't stop the proceedings. Unbelievable. This is what I do not comprehend. A person can continue to file bankruptcies to stop paying their debts, whether they are eligible or not. I can't garnish wages because filing a bankruptcy petition (fraudulent or not) invokes an automatic stay for the debtor's creditors. No one can collect squat until the case is either discharged or dismissed, and that will take months. And by then she'll have a different job and I'll have to spend more hours tracking her down all over again. And by then there'll be a new tax lien against her . . . well, you get the picture.

You can't get blood from this turnip. If my defendant continues to pursue this Ch. 13, she might be facing jail time and a $500,000 fine. Not because she's ineligible—because she lied under oath on her bankruptcy petition.

This isn't a fair world at all. Oh, and God I miss New York. Just had to throw that in . . . .

One Semester Down, Six to Go!

2009-04-29T22:41:00.002-04:00

Wow, I can't believe that my first semester at GW is over. Those three and a half months went by fast. I had one final exam on Monday, which consisted of four essay questions, for my Criminal Investigations class. My other final exam, for Criminal Law, was 100 multiple choice questions plus extra credit for writing out the Fourth Amendment.

I have never enjoyed school more than I did this semester. In fact, I recall being so sick of school in my Junior year at Virginia Tech in 1984 that I dropped out . . . to work in pizza, no less! My, how things change in a quarter of a century. I only wish I'd chased this dream of mine years ago.

Well, I have 2.5 weeks off from school. Summer school starts May 18 and only lasts 10 weeks, so it's pretty intense. I'm taking Risk Analysis & Loss Prevention and Ethics & Leadership. Classes are three hours long, which will put me home around 9:30PM on school nights. Those are going to be some long days, leaving for work at 7:30AM and getting home 14 hours later. Poor Baby. She doesn't like to be alone that long. She really needs a playmate!

Off to bed. It'll be intersting trying to work tomorrow with a fried brain.

Baby Antics

2009-04-26T09:08:00.008-04:00

What is it with cats and water? Several weeks ago, Baby stopped drinking from her fancy bubble fountain bowl. Since then, she only drinks from my water cups or licks up remnant water drops from the bathroom sink.

I keep a little acrylic water cup on the bathroom counter top. Every time I turn on the water in the bathroom sink, Baby comes running and jumps up onto the lavatory. She plops herself down on the counter and waits patiently for me to fill the cup for her, then she starts lapping away. Never mind that she has a full bowl of fresh bubbly water in the room where I feed her.

Almost always, I have a big glass of ice water next to me, either on my desk or on the table next to my TV chair. Baby doesn't hesitate to help herself. I know that cats like their water fresh, hence the bubble fountain which keeps the water circulating. I give the bowl a thorough cleaning every weekend and refill it with cold water from the Brita pitcher. What more could a cat ask for?

I recall Martin liked his water cold. So, with Baby, I've tried adding ice cubes to her bowl. Still no go. She liked her old fountain, which was on its last legs and finally had to be thrown away during the last move. She used the new bubble fountain for several months; suddenly, it just isn't cutting it for this spoiled little girl.

This is cat behavior that I just don't understand. True, they say that cats like their water really fresh. The bubble fountain should provide that. Several explanations are offered on this web page. The only one I haven't tried is separating her food and water dishes. I'll do that next and see what happens.

Surveillance: Not for the Weary

2009-04-11T09:36:00.010-04:00

March 9th was surveillance night for my Criminal Investigations class. I had been looking forward to this night as much as our earlier crime scene night. The teacher warned us that our measely 1.5 hours of surveillance would wear us out.

She was right.

My team of four was tasked with tailing a young woman who had suffered a fall at her job at Staples. Doctor's orders mandated strict bed rest for this employee, who was receiving workman's compensation for her injury. She was supposed to be at home, healing.

The subject left by car, and we had two cars following her. I was a passenger in the second car. Naturally, we were parked on the opposite side of the road when our subject took off past us in the opposite direction. The lead car was able to stay behind her. (Thank goodness we opted to use two cars.) I had suggested GPS units, and my driver had one - but it was in his glove box, not mounted on the dash board ready to go. There wasn't enough time after we got going to set that up. (A huge chunk of surveillance is planning.)

Meanwhile, my partner circled around the block and managed to get on the wrong road. Using my cell phone, I remained in communication with the passenger of the lead car. He kept telling us "turn right on Fillmore," but we weren't even close to Fillmore. We were off in a completely wrong direction. I had brought a map and was juggling getting the GPS unit up while also looking at the map and talking to the other agent on the phone and trying to listen to my partner barking questions at me while I was on the phone listening to the other agent.

Finally, we were headed in the right direction. We turned on Fillmore, and found no Crate & Barrel, so we knew it was the wrong street. Our teammate couldn't remember the street name, so we went up another street and finally found the shopping center where the subject had pulled in and parked. We lucked out and got a parking space out front, like the subject, but on the other side of the median from her car. Perfect. Not only that, but the woman in the car parked in front of us came up to our window and told us to use her spot because there were still 30 minutes left on the meter. Such luck! We pulled up and parked.

Meanwhile, the other two agents had parked in the garage and alternately followed the subject into Barnes & Noble and Ann Taylor Loft. Fortunately, one of those agents got some fantastic photos of the subject bending and reaching for books in B&N. Unfortunately, he hadn't set his camera to date- and time-stamp the photos, like we'd all agreed ahead of time. He had the date stamp enabled, though, which is better than nothing—especially since his partner failed to enable the time/date stamp at all on her camera.

Communicating via Bluetooth, I got out and sat on a bench that faced the rear of the subject's Toyota hatchback. I was wearing a lavender cap and black pullover. It was windy that day—and COLD. I about froze my butt off sitting there while she shopped for what seemed like forever. I realized I needed a prop, so I called another agent on my cell and had her bring a notebook over for me to casually flip through as I waited.

The subject shopped in just about every store at this outdoor mall in Arlington. We watched her go to William-Sonoma, Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel and more. But surveillance was tough without having 4-way communication available to us. I had a Bluetooth headset and kept my phone in my pocket. I was pretty much on the phone with one of my teammates for the entire exercise, until near the end.

It was clear that our subject was feeling no back pain. She was out out trouncing around in her high heels, shopping, bending over and reaching up for books at B&N, and looking completely healthy. She even picked up a huge 15-lb. vase in C&B and set it back down.

As I sat on the bench, trying not to shiver or look obvious, I came up with a plan to get the subject to bend over. All I needed was for one of my fellow agents to photograph the encounter. I was on the phone with another agent when I asked him to call my partner and tell him to get his camera ready and be in position when the subject returned to her car and I accosted her.

I continued lying in wait while the other agents moved about.

Suddenly, my partner took off in his car. Another agent called me wondering where in the heck he was going? Our subject was on foot and we had a perfectly good parking space, yet this agent left the scene—and without communicating with any of us. It made no sense. I asked my fellow agents to be ready with their cameras.

When the subject returned to her car, I photographed her from about 20 feet away, right behind her, as she bent over and looked in the hatch. I was still snapping photos as I walked right up to her and called out, "Is this your car?" Hiding the camera when she turned to face me, I told her, "That guy in front of you hit your car when he was parking," pointing at the blue SUV parked in front of her. Sure enough, the ruse worked. We went over together to look at her front bumper. She easily squatted down to get a closer look. I'm praying that someone on my team is shooting the scene.

Nope. No such luck. My partner had returned and was looking for a parking space, of which there were none available. I parted ways with the subject, crossed the median, and signaled my partner to pick me up. In the car, I removed my hat, let my hair down, and put on a beige winter coat—all part of the plan we each had to change our appearance.

I went inside Crate & Barrel where there was a perfect window view to her car. I spoke to my partner on the cell phone, and we agreed he'd call me when the subject left Baja Fresh and headed back to her car. I was going to photograph her getting into her car and driving off. Meanwhile, I kept an eye out as best as I could from inside the store, hoping the store clerks wouldn't think I was a shoplifter. I made a small purchase and hung out, awaiting my partner's call and periodically passing by that window.

Finally I saw the car leaving. I was too late! My partner hadn't called as planned. He later claimed he texted me instead, but I never got a message from him. It wouldn't have mattered; my phone was in my pocket and I never would have heard the text alert.

Despite all of our little blunders, my team managed to get some great photos of the subject bending over, carrying shopping bags, squatting, reaching, walking in high heels, etc. We pulled the info together into a report with a timeline of our subject's activities and will present it on Monday.

It was fun! I must say, though, riding home on the subway that night, I suddenly found myself exhausted. I can't imagine how tired I'd be had I participated in a surveillance that lasted 12-18 hours, as can be the case in real life.

You gotta love this stuff! I've never enjoyed school this much in my life. Guess I finally picked the right field to study. And I'm 45 years old today, so it's about time!

Letter to the Editor

2009-04-02T21:26:00.003-04:00

Dear Editor:

I recently moved to Alexandria from New York City. I didn't own a car in NYC, and I don't own one here (despite it being a lot harder and more time-consuming to commute without a car here). I use the Metro to get around.

Each morning I must cross Eisenhower Avenue to get on the train. There is no crosswalk for pedestrians there. To cross at a crosswalk, apartment dwellers must either backtrack to the light or walk past the Metro and cross at the next light. Both of these lights are three long minutes when red. Long story short: everyone walks across the middle of the road to get to the train station. I see it every day. I assumed that this is how it's done here. In fact, in all my years in NYC there was no such thing as NYPD ticketing people for crossing the street. NYC is a pedestrian-friendly city (and New York's finest have better things to do than ticket jaywalkers).

Yesterday morning around 8:00 I was headed to the Metro. When the road cleared, I stepped one single foot into the gutter of the road. All of a sudden, I heard this booming voice screaming, "No, no, NO, NO, NO!!!" I looked up and saw a burly motorcycle policeman across the street, pointing angrily at me and screaming at the top of his lungs. The look on his face couldn't have been uglier; the tone of his voice could not have been less intimidating. I turned to my right and took two steps in the gutter, looking back at the big mustached officer; he contorted his face in anger and screamed threateningly at me, "Get OUT OF THE STREET!" in a tone that should be reserved for a fleeing felon.

Being used to the friendly, courteous NYPD, I was astounded by the excessively aggressive behavior displayed by this public servant. I stepped onto the sidewalk and ran the distance to the next light. I, of course, had to wait minutes for the walk signal, and missed my train.

I have two complaints: First, this officer's behavior was excessive and uncalled-for; it ruined my day. The sad part is, that was obviously his intent. If you ask me, this guy is in the wrong job. Scaring residents half to death is not fulfilling an obligation "to protect and serve." There's no place for that type of behavior when dealing with an alleged minor misdemeanor resembling attempted jaywalking.

Secondly, make the Metro more accessible and convenient. Compared to NYC where you can go anywhere (on bus and/or train), transferring endlessly for a mere $2, public transportation here in D.C. is exorbitantly priced. It's $1.65 to go one single stop. Obviously, jaywalking is a misdemeanor in Alexandria—as I am now aware. Why not use some of those Metro dollars to install a crosswalk to the Metro station or shorten the excessive length of red lights at those intersections?

Until pedestrian accessibility improves, people will continue to jaywalk there. Instead of coddling the motorists and punishing those who are doing the right thing for the city and our environment by using Metro, why not address the Metro access problem at Eisenhower Avenue and other stations? A pedestrian overpass would be a good start.

Your Tax Dollars at Work

2009-03-20T21:57:00.006-04:00

I work for a consulting company that won the bid for a Department of Defense web project. Fortunately, this week we began moving our people into the building in Rosslyn where the DoD folks on the project sit. It's pretty nice - the office space was just completely renovated, and the building is as close to a "downtown" as you can get around here; I definitely prefer it to the suburbs.

The woman whose cubicle is adjacent to mine is probably in her mid-forties. Her 11-year-old son is 5'3" tall, weighs 140, and plays two sports after school. They live in an 800-sf apartment near King Street and like to shop at Whole Foods. She picks her son up from his after-school activities in the evenings, while another mother drives the boys there. She's gained 10 pounds since she started this job. I found all of this out in less than two days of work (or, rather, what I call 'work').

And how do I know this much about the woman on the other side of my cubicle "wall?" Because Queen Gab Fest spends half her day on the phone, that's how.

And she is LOUD. I brought ear plugs in today and ended up putting them in and pulling them out of my ears all day long while Ms. Gabbie made her loud personal calls. To make matters worse, she's a fan of speaker phone. That was too much, I thought to myself while beating my head against my desk. But the kicker was when she turned on some video on her computer, with no qualms about airing the sound through her PC speakers. At that point, I finally spoke up, "What is that?"

"Oh, it's my computer. Sorry." Unfazed, the audio continued.

Anyone who has ever worked in a cubicle environment knows these unwritten rules: No loud voices, no music, no computer audio without headphones, and no speaker phone. Period. No, no, no, no, no!

The funny thing is, all of us consultants sit together in one area. The DoD folks sit on the other side of the floor. I'm surrounded by empty cubicles right now. Any occupied cubicle near me has one of my teammates sitting in it. Most of my teammates are still in the old office across town.

And yet, in this vast sea of empty cubicles, who ends up sitting just inches from me, with nothing more than two one-half-inch thick corkboards separating us? The loudest, most talkative, oblivious woman on the floor. Why isn't she sitting with her own folks? Hmmm.

So there you have it. Your tax dollars at work at the DoD. I can't imagine taking a job and then sitting on the phone half the day. It's either a Southern thing or a government thing because I saw it the last time I left NY and moved to this area. You figure, if she's spending a good four hours a day on the phone, she must be one of those people who surfs the Web and responds to personal email at work too. When does she work?

Maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe her boyfriend works at AiG . . . . but let's not go there. Not today.

Need a Day Off!

2009-03-14T20:03:00.004-04:00

On Monday I started my new IT job and its associated ugly suburban bus commute (accompanied by extensive walking while carrying my mobile office and school books to and from the bus line).

By end of day Tuesday I had a severely pulled lower left back muscle, I could barely walk, and I was exhausted.

The topic of the lousy, overpriced D.C. Metro bus system here is something to be addressed later. God I miss my NY subway.

Monday and Wednesday were long days: Commute to the suburbs, walk to work, spend 8 hours at work, walk to the bus, commute by bus and train to school, attend a 2-hour class, then do the 50-to-60-minute commute home by train.

On Friday when I came home from work, I'd planned on getting caught up on my school work, but I was so tired that I went to bed at 8:30PM—I wanted to at least read for a while but I had to turn the lights out at 9:00 because I couldn't keep my eyes open. I couldn't believe it, myself.

Saturday morning came around quickly. I got up, did my weekend chores, then went to a 2-1/2-hour King Street Cats volunteer meeting.

After the meeting, I got a ride to Old Town, checked my business mail box at the UPS Store, then walked the 1-1/4 miles home from there, stopping at Whole Foods for a meal to bring home. There were more chores to do at home (including unloading part of my huge storage closet to dig out two boxes containing office iems for my job). After wrapping my dad's birthday present for shipping, I finally did some homework for the first time since last weekend.

This afternoon I was supposed to work at KSC doing adoptions for another four hours, but it was just too much. They were overly staffed, so I bowed out. Looks like I'm going to have to cut way back on my volunteer role from here on out. There's no way I'll survive doing that job, in addition to school and my full-time job. I know my limits!

And now I am ready for a day off! I've always admired people who can go to grad school and work full time. Now, I'm not quite sure how they pull it off. My mom says to just "keep slogging," so that's what I'll do. I'm so ready for my new career, but I have to wait until I finish my degree to get to the part where I finally get to do something meaningful by fighting crime.

Baby and I are watching a movie. Well, I'm watching; she's begging me to pull out the little red bug toy (also known as a laser light). I really need to get her a playmate.

A Day at the Newseum

2009-03-07T19:21:00.008-05:00

Saturday, March 7, 2009

We were expecting great weather today, so I got out of the apartment and took the train into D.C. to explore a couple of museums. I'd planned on stopping by the National Archives, but they are still closed. Every time I try to visit the Archives, it's all roped off.

Anyway, I went straight to my other destination—the Newseum on Pennsylvania Avenue. The huge six-story, glass-encased museum is both expansive and bright, and comes complete with both a news chopper and tremendous video screen hanging in the large atrium.

The building rests on the same location where the National Hotel once stood. With the big exhibit "Manhunt: Chasing Lincoln's Killer"on location, it's an appropriate place for this museum, as John Wilkes Boothe had stayed at the National Hotel when he came to town to carry out his conspiracy to assassinate President Lincoln in April, 1865.

I arrived at the museum around 11:30 and scanned the many displays of today's headlines from around the country outside. I bought my $20 ticket and went downstairs to watch the 8-minute orientation movie, which was helpful. Then I visited the 12' tall sections of the Berlin Wall, which weigh 3 tons each and are covered with grafitti and art. That exhibit was neat. I walked inside the original East German security tower located along the wall at Checkpoint Charlie.

Starving, I stopped in the cafeteria for a delicious bowl of chili before continuing my tour. I was really impressed with the chili! Next, I went through the FBI exhibit "G-Men and Journalists," which was reminiscent of the National Museum of Crime & Punishment that I so love. On display were things like the Unabomber's Montana cabin (basically a small square hut with no running water nor electricity), and the FBI-fabricated vehicle used in the D.C. sniper trial to demonstrate how the snipers hid inside the rear end of the vehicle to target their defenseless victims.

There were also displays for Waco, the Oklahoma bombings, the Lindbergh kidnapping, and several of the infamous 1930's gangsters like Machine Gun Kelly, Baby Face Nelson, and Pretty Boy Floyd.

Then I took one of the big glass elevators up to the sixth floor to do the recommended top-down tour. The view of the U.S. Capitol is great from the outdoor pavilion on the top floor. The elevators are the tallest hydraulic-lift elevators in the world. The museum was so large that I didn't finish seeing everything.

The newscasts being aired in the 9/11 exhibit on fifth floor got me all choked up. I don't recall previously seeing interviews of people shortly after they escaped the towers. The tears of both the interviewers and interviewees were moving, to say the least. I guess it never gets easier.

The center of that exhibit holds the crumbled tip-top of the radio tower from the WTC, and there is a touching tribute to a photo-journalist named William Biggurt whose final photos were taken (and later retrieved) just before the north tower fell, crushing him. One wall contained headlines from around the world from that fateful day.

The 4-D movie about the history of news was informative, recounting the story of Nellie Bly's undercover stay in the Blackwell Island insane asylum, and other historical news events. I couldn't figure out what the fourth dimension was until I felt a "rat" running under my legs and the guts of a squashed cockroach fly into my face. Pretty cool effects.

After over three hours there, I was getting tired (and my plantar fasciitis was killing me more than it has since it cropped up last summer), but I couldn't stop looking at the exhibits.

I came upon the newscasting area and just had to get in line to perform my own newscast. That was fun! For $5.00 I was able to purchase a photo and web video of my brief report at the U.S. Supreme Court. (Participants got to pick which background they wanted to be filmed in front of—the white house, the capitol, a weather map, cherry blossoms, and the supreme court were the primary choices.) The teleprompter moved faster than I expected! And, of course, I couldn't help but laugh at the end when I had nothing else to say for the final 13 seconds. Duh.

It was after 4:00PM when I finally left and was barely walking. I came straight home and iced my right foot. This episode of plantar fasciitis is the worst I've ever had. I don't recall having this pain for eight months.

The worst thing is that one injury leads to another. The foot pain changes your gait, whether you realize it or not. This all started around July when I began adding some jogging to my very long walks in NYC. A couple months later, when I ran the Susan G. Komen 5K Race for the Cure on Sept. 14th, I pulled my right hamstring. I continued to run on it through the end of November when I started to enjoy running around the Central Park Reservoir, just assuming that the muscle kink will work itself out. It didn't.

Finally, I decided to give up the running and take it easy so I could heal. Gentle stretching (several times a day!), icing, and anti-inflammatories haven't helped. Ultimately, about a week ago, my right knee went out. I guess it was working too hard to compensate for the other two injuries.

I just can't win. My right leg is virtually out of commission. And just when the nice weather comes around and I want to get outside and explore! Aaargh. . . .

In any case, if you come to D.C., be sure to try to make it to the Newseum. You won't regret it.

America's Most Wanted

2009-02-22T18:55:00.004-05:00

Last night I tuned in and saw part of "America's Most Wanted" on TV. I almost immediately recognized the skeletal form hanging behind John Walsh.

Hmmm . . . that sure reminds me of the Crime Museum, I thought. It really did look like the place where my friend Rashmi and I participated in a free CSI laboratory workshop a couple weekends ago.

I watched and waited. A little later in the show, John Walsh was broadcasting from the very room where the workshop took place, and that's when I knew it was the same place. I opened up my laptop and went straight to the AMW web site. Sure enough, the show is being filmed right here in D.C. at the National Museum of Crime & Punishment.

How cool is that!