A Note to Scott

Scott,

I remember the first time I met you - and maybe we'd met before, but it was the first time I got into my head that "Scott is Daddy's friend". You were newly divorced, moving into a new place, Ben & I were playing something along the lines of Tarzan and Meghan, one of the most beautiful and brilliant women I know, was around two, was diaperless and blessed your new place with a little offering. (She's been making strong impressions ever since.) I'm not sure we were invited over; back then we just seemed to appear on doorsteps from time to time and let me just apologize for anything I did. When I hear stories about myself from that age they tend to end with me leaving a wake of distruction behind me.

I heard the news a couple of weeks ago and I'm completely speechless and what I want to say is -

Scott, thank you...

...for being the most amazing and gifted story teller I know.

...for always treating me like an adult.

...for standing up for me.

...for being the uncle I never had.

...for sometimes being the parent I needed.

...for speaking your mind.

...for doing what is right.

...for not being afraid to openly call people on their bullshit.

...for always making me laugh.

...for always making me think.

...for being at every major event in my life.

...for homemade Struedel.

...for that time I was in high school and you and Gail read ElfQuest with me; thank you for showing an interest in my extreme nerdiness.

...for the letter you sent about Mom.

And for being the kind of person I hope to one day be.

I love you.

My heart is breaking.

What I'll Do for Indy

They offered us four hours of leave if we walked 3.1 miles on Saturday. The exact amount of time I need so I can be in line for the first showing of the latest Indiana Jones movie when it comes out.

I wouldn't be a "geek" if I had allowed this kind of opportunity slip by.

The day was beautiful, the air was cool and the only two things that could have made it more perfect were if I'd gotten a better parking spot (the 3.1 mile walked turned into a 4.1 walk) and if I'd had my friends to keep me entertained. Other than that... perfect. (Well, if someone had told me ahead of time they were just looking for that little label as proof - I could have slept in, enjoyed the weather and still gotten the four hours of leave. I guess some people knew better than to share that information early.)

Tech Support

I hate tech support and I'm pretty sure I'm not alone.

By the time I've called tech support, I've unplugged, re-plugged, checked plugs, checked wires, swapped cables, rebooted, refreshed, recycled every thing I own attached to whatever it is that's giving me grief - whether it's the cable TV or the cable modem. Which means that when I call, I've moved down the road from "have you checked your power supply?"

I always start the calls with "this is everything I've done" and while I know I've just jumped into the middle of their tech support script, I really am beyond the point of wanting to retry everything again while I listen to them loudly mouth breathe into my ear; it's just not sexy. I'm usually greeted with an exasperated sigh, "do you mind rebooting again?" Yes, yes I do. If I'm calling, I've rebooted more than once and thank you for asking, I am getting power. How can I tell? Well, things are on. GRR!

It's not that I don't understand the feeling that everyone who owns tech equipment is stupid. When I was IT I had my fair share of "Beth, if you don't receive this e-mail let me know" or "Beth, why can't I find the information on the disk" as I look and see the disk is laying on top of the computer. I've even had "Beth, the server is dead" only to find that someone had powered it off. I even created my "Wall of Shame" - a place where I pinned any e-mail that made me feel incredibly smart at someone else's expense. But when I call, I'm trying to give that "I'm not a complete moron vibe" which really comes off as the "I'm short-tempered, impatient and moments from losing it all over you" (which really inspires people to help).

What inspired this? Suddenlink. I can't say enough bad about them, but this time it genuinely isn't their fault (although, I'll work out how it is eventually). Our cable modem took a huge dump and died. The little power light was on and the PC/Activity light was on but it was done sending and receiving packets of information. There were at least two fun/stimulating calls with their help desk while I made low growling sounds. A tech was sent out and he declared the thing dead. Meanwhile, I twitched while trying to remember what it was I used to do before I had a computer. I was drawing a blank. (Jay suggested something called "reading" - seriously, way to step back in time 100 years.) So, yesterday I picked up a new cable modem, installed it and of course had to call tech support in order for Suddenlink to see it.

I got Sean the tech guy. I think Sean may now be my new favorite - everything to Sean was both "awesome" and "cool". Sean even played the "let's give every letter used in the MAC address a fruit name and every letter in the serial number a vegetable name". (I have to find ways to amuse myself on these calls, otherwise it's back to the low growling.) When we got to H and couldn't think of a fruit I offered up, "H... as in Banana" and Sean laughed at my corny joke and even made it sound sincere - bless his heart. For that, I had to write to his supervisors and send kudos his way for being the best tech support guy they had.

Sooo... I'm always going to dread tech support calls. I'm always going to make low growling sounds as I push in keys to get past "to set-up your email, press 1; to find the "any" key, press 2; to be stuck in this endless hell of key pushing, press 0 - your wait time is FORTY FIVE minutes, please hold while we play you this delightful music from Kenny G - we will interrupt it every 30 seconds to remind you you should have pressed 1 and you wouldn't be suffering - thank you!" At least, in speaking to Sean, there's some hope. Even if his name isn't really Sean but something unpronouncable with 12 more syllables.

Bad Things/Good Things/Updates

Life is a balance...

Bad Things

I lost my cell phone. My obnoxiously girly pink phone that plays the theme to Indiana Jones.

A long time acquaintance finally succumbed to Cystic Fibrosis after a 41+ year battle.

The IRS asked for a kidney this year. Why not, I have two! Big thanks to a former employer for not entering my W-4 information in correctly (they took out a mere $105 for the year) - I don't wish them ill. No wait, I do. Of course, shame on me for not noticing.

Oh, and for the record, I do think that funerals should be deductible.
...and really, I didn't want to continue to take viola lessons, go to the movies, go to lunch, go out of town ... I mean honestly, who does?

I did try to talk a friend out of one of her kids, but she's trying to convince me that the rebate they get for their kids is the government's way of thanking them for not putting them up for adoption.

Eddie Izzard tickets sold out immediately. :(

...and the number one - no, that deserves a special post

Good Things

Jay still had his old phone (my old one had actually died). I actually like it better than the pink one and it now plays the Pink Panther. (Indy wasn't even an option.)

We were missing our groundskeeper, Ray, and found out he'd been hospitalized due to a terrible bicycling accident. He's one of those people who puts everything he has into every job he does around the building - one of those people who doesn't just do his job, he launches a full scale assault - and he does it with a smile. IN the middle of it, he'll always pause a moment to say something that makes you feel special. I'm sure you're thinking "bad thing" and it is... but I said to a friend "I think it would be nice if we could get the money together to get him a new bike". I was hoping for a couple of hundred dollars tops. Well, we talked to each other, talked to a few co-workers and the word spread. The count as of a few hours ago - close to $1,000. When I talked to Ray at the hospital he said, "Beth, did you know if two people pray for me, God will hear them and I'll get better?" On Wednesday, Ray is going to see just how many people were thinking about him, praying for him and hoping to see him get better.

The new (final (that should be under not so good))season of Battlestar Galactica started. I wouldn't be a geek if I didn't list this as a "good thing". And it's Roslyn - we can put money on it if you're ready to send some my way - my kidney, the one that is about to be removed for shipment to the IRS, will thank you after dabbing the sweat off its little kidney forehead and breathing (yeah yeah, I know they don't breathe - thanks smart alleck you) a sigh of relief.

The new neighbors have moved in - they both have "B" names which means the reign of the Stepford Julies might be coming to an end and a new "B" era is waltzing in. You've got to love them, because the first thing they did was cut down all of their trees, throw out all of their bushes and dump a big pile o' dirt in their driveway. I'm sure the only Julie left (and the HOA) is having a complete stroke (there's a form if you sneeze on a bush and a fine if no one saw the form). Their pool is going in at the moment and every day after work there's the pounding sound of drilling (the ground is hard after 3 ft.) Of course, I'm at home sick today, so I see some Tylenol in my future.

Apricot chicken salad - ok, that may be the best thing EVER and it's even better sitting in April's cute new place.

Updates

Sam can almost regularly blink her left eye and is almost at the point where she can close the right. GO SAM!

Tap starts for me in about a month. I'M ECSTATIC! I LOVE TAP!!!

... and I'll think up a real blog idea one day. No really. I'm just trying to avoid being overly morose and self-indulgent.

TMI

A couple of my friends have recently come up to me to announce major health issues which have been followed with a statement like "well, I was concerned about telling you because I thought it was too much information". So, I'm writing this for them.

Too Much Information(TMI) - according to Beth

What constitutes TMI? Let's start with your bowels. I appreciate that the digestive system is a miraculous and wonderous thing - that without it, we wouldn't be here to discuss TMI or really anything else. And while I don't mind hearing about "product in", I don't much care for "product out" - what shape it made, how often this little miracle happened for you, what caused it - if it has the perfect DQ swirl, feel free to marvel at it, applaud it, take a picture of it for your own records, but don't share it with me.

Recently, I hurt a person's feelings. She was carrying on about the big bucket of popcorn she had at the movies and how all that roughage was just working it's way through. Then gleefully added, "I'll be running by you back and forth all day trying to make it to the potty." I'm pretty sure my face lost all color. Mid-way through the day she dropped by to explain that everything was going beautifully with her bowels and she was pretty sure the popcorn had cleared her system. I threw up my hands and started shouting, "TOO MUCH INFORMATION! YOU ARE REALLY SHARING TOO MUCH!" ... and I hurt her feelings - seriously. Too bad, because I am not your go-to girl for poo.

Your sex life. For starters, you don't play a major role in any of my sexual fantasies, but I appreciate that you're trying to give me the visual. I don't care how raunchy, over-the-top, frequent, or how heralded you happen to be, you've just given me the willies because I don't think of you that way. In fact, I prefer to think you've only gone so far as holding hands and that your anatomy is something Mattel pieced together. Unless you're Brad Pitt, you fall into the same category as Ron Jeremy or Flavor Flave or Sandra Bernhardt - because you just made me lose complete interest in sex with your talk - in some cases you made me lose control of my bowels; your story was that upsetting. WAY TO GO! Now those of you that see this as a challenge and are moments from e-mailing me what a bedtime casanova you are, feel free - since you feel like sharing, I'll post it on the blog with your full name attached - hey, if you can share it with me, you can share it with the world. And the world wants to celebrate your escapades.

Under the umbrella of your sex life is your pubic hair. Yes, I applaud your ability to shave in your name, your favorite team, Winnie the Pooh - you're a little barbershop prodigy. This is also TMI unless we're both falling down drunk, then the TMI lines get blurred a bit. But if I'm dead sober sitting at my desk or lounging on my couch, I don't want the visual of your curlies bouncing around like Tigger.

When "naked" isn't TMI - when you've bounded into the living room of your apartment fresh from a shower wearing what God gave you only to discover there are construction workers right outside the window who just locked eyes with you. And after the aforementioned locking of the eyes, you fled for cover (and clothes), and now have to walk the gauntlet by passing them on the way to your car. THAT'S just good times! (that's not TMI)

So, I'll say one more time to my surgery having friends - if your brain is exploding, if they're replacing major organs, if they amputate your pinky toes - this is not TMI - this is how you score presents and flowers and cards and balloons. I don't care if you wet the gurney, spewed on the attendant or had to have a catheter - that won't fall under the TMI umbrella. Now if Barry White showed up while you were seducing your doctor, that's TMI. It's a fine line.