So by this evening, we will have an additional 4 adults and 5 children, ages ranging from 6 months to 7 years, all camping out in our house. Jesu Cristo - makes the ganglia twitch!
On Saturday Todd, Wy, Wee and I attempted to go to Comic-Con - but we were soon thwarted by the sheer enormity of the line to get in; it was, quite literally, one mile long, winding away from the Convention Center down to the Embarcadero, threading through Seaport Village, and then back toward the skyscrapers of downtown. We would have had a good 2-3 hour wait just to get in the door, standing in the sun with 85% humidity wilting us the whole time, and once we got in we knew the crowds would be thick and annoying and we'd have missed a good majority of the presentations. All this for the bargain entry fee of $25.00 each!
I couldn't think of anything or anyone in there that I wanted to see anywhere near that badly, so instead we hoofed it back up to Horton Plaza, where we'd parked, and saw "Pirates of the Caribbean". Great flick! Johnny Depp totally hits the mark with his Keith-Richards-inspired portrayal of Captain Jack Sparrow. The latest ingenue playing opposite him looks distractingly like the lesbian-love-child of Natalie Portman and Winona Ryder (not surprisingly, she also played the "decoy" Queen Amidala in Episodes I and II - apparently when both she and Natalie were in the full geisha makeup, not even their mothers could tell them apart). Orlando Bloom was good, and it's nice to see him continue to take roles that involve the wearing of snug breeches (heh); Geoffrey Rush was duly sinister as the Black Pearl's mutinous captain, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the guy who plays Steve on BBC's "Coupling" pop up as a priggish Royal Navy officer. If you're in the mood for a really entertaining swashbuckler, check it out. (And yeah, if you've been on the ride at Disneyland there are several sets/props that'll have you thinking "Hey, that's just like the ride!" - but it's definitely not necessary to have been on the ride to totally enjoy the movie).
Anyway, it turned out to be a fun weekend even if I didn't get to have my meet and greet with the former Wesley Crusher. Whateveh.
An update in case anyone was wondering about the tadpoles... they're ex-tadpoles now. I've come to suspect that raising them successfully would entail an investment of research, money and effort that exceeds my interest level. A pity; but then again, their own parents would have eaten them before they ever made it out of poppyseed stage, so at least with me they got a few days to cruise around.
Guess that means I have to give my Science Nerd title back, huh? Wonder if I can still cancel those orders for the pocket protector and the Bunsen burner...
It's Comic-Con time - I'm looking forward to going, and not just to say howdy to Wil. I've always wanted to go, but have not yet managed to make it. I (we, assuming Wee joins me) plan on going Saturday morning. I'm really looking forward to it. I've never been to a convention like this, which is kind of surprising considering science fiction has always been my favorite genre, and although I'm not a huge comic book fan I imagine I've still read more of them than 99% of women in the world. Maybe part of me was holding back from going to one because it would mean I'd crossed the line from "person who enjoys the sci-fi genre" to "sci-fi geek". Now I realize that I don't mind that at all. And let's face it - it'll be one hell of a people-watching opportunity. Neil Gaiman has a major role in the festivities as well, which is incredibly cool, since pretty much anything in which he participates is bound to be interesting and worthwhile. I'd like to see Kevin Smith's presentation, though I'm sure it'll be packed.
Anyway, there's how I'm spending Saturday. If you're in town and I know you and you want to come along and you're capable of being awake and mobile by 9 am or so, let me know! =)
The day unofficially began at 3 am; this was when I woke up stressing about a piece of equipment I was supposed to have on order last week that was not yet on order. Couldn't get back to sleep. Thought about getting up and reading for a bit. Didn't. Layed in the dark and felt useless adrenaline goading my heart into a fierce thumpathon. Total overreaction; but at 3 am every bad thing seems worse than it really is. Finally fell back asleep, and had weird frenetic dreams. Woke up again as soon as the sun came up, which was about 45 minutes before I needed to be up. Slapped my hand around on the dresser until it located my eyemask, which I fumbled onto my face to create the illusion of nighttime again. Had more weird dreams, in the twilight zone between sleeping and awake. Finally fell back asleep about 10 minutes before the alarm went off. Hit snooze. More weirdness, none of it solid enough to survive the trip to wakefulness.
Alarm. Snooze button. Two minutes of yearning denial before accepting that I'd been punked by the clock's inexorable advance. Flung myself forcefully out of bed. Tripped over the dog, who was stretched out lengthways next to the bed, her head shoved under the dust ruffle - her version of an eyemask, I guess. Shower. Glanced at the scale as I dried off; winced, glared at it, did not step on it. Didn't want to confirm what I already knew to be the horrifying truth. Downstairs. Got coffee going. Upstairs. Faced the tyranny of my closet, full of clothes that had ominously shrunk overnight; the only ones I'd feel comfortable hiding myself in today were too wintery � I'd be melting by noon and people would wonder why I was wearing long sleeves. Checked the wash pile for something salvageable. Pulled out my black overall-style dress � not stained or smelly, just wrinkled. Good. Took it down to the dryer for emergency dewrinkling. While waiting to get dressed, drank my coffee and read a few pages of a book, "Why Girls Are Weird" (written by Pamela Ribon, a well-known online journaller - this is her first book. It's well-done and I'm digging it a lot, so I'll digress and gladly give Pamie a plug here since I've gotten a lot of amusement out of her site over the past few years. If you liked "Bridget Jones' Diary", you'll likely enjoy this one too). Back upstairs for grooming. Lamented my straw broom hair, which was resisting like a mutant virus the generous application of various healing treatments. Time for a cut, apparently. Or a shave and a wig. Tempting.
Late again getting into the car and on the road. Driving out of the neighborhood, I actually caught myself wishing for an accident. Not a major one, mind you; minor injuries at most, nothing debilitating or long-lasting � just enough to justify not going to work for a few days, guiltlessly using up some of the 100+ hours of sick time I've accrued. Tricky part would be that the accident would need to be another other person's fault, so they'd have to pay for car repairs and medical bills. Not wishing harm to anyone else, of course � I'd take the pain if they took the insurance hit. Soon realized that this was a pretty sick line of thought, and hoped I hadn't somehow willed it into actually happening (I think my mother-in-law calls that "binding" it). Wished I had some wood to knock on. Mocked myself for being superstitious. Reminded myself that if I did end up getting in an accident any time in the near future, I'd feel really shitty and guilty and would wish I'd never wished for it in the first place, especially just so I could get out of going to work. Lame-o.
Took a couple of minutes to hate California as I sat in a line of cars logjammed into a standstill in spite of the green light, compounding my lateness. Thought back to the conversation Bill and I had last night at Islands about moving to Oregon, and how great it would be, and how we never felt like we really belonged in SoCal anyway, and how we could make a bundle of cash by selling our house right now, and could put about 50% down on a killer place in, say, Corvallis, for half the price of a house here, and live off the rest while we looked for jobs. Remembered how we looked at the housing market and the job market on the Web when we got home and realized that houses cost a little more than we thought � though still a relative bargain � but that jobs definitely looked to be scarce, even in Portland. Sighed.
Home stretch to work (not that I'd ever think of work as "home". That's just not right). Noticed the absence of the little memorial vignette - a metal sign and an agave cactus - that had been at the side of the road ever since I started driving this route. Wondered who removed them � a city road crew, or the people who placed them there, or maybe just some random vandal? Missed seeing them. Regretted never stopping to actually read the sign and find out who I was being asked to remember.
Arrived at work, seven minutes late. Plodded into my office. Fed Pescadito. Cleared my email in-box of offers for enhancement of my nonexistent penis, online pharmacies (Soma! Vi@gra! No prescription needed!), crazy-low interest rate loans, and hot coed pr0n.
Hilarity ensued for the next 9 hours. Luckily I survived, with barely a scratch, my confession to El Jefe about the belated equipment order that woke me up last night � sometimes it's all about throwing yourself on the mercy of the court (and gauging the mood of the judge, and how one's overall record happens to look on that day). Several fires were put out; a couple flared up despite application of retardant, and reinforcements were called in. I know others are biding their time, waiting to combust and flare up behind my back while I'm fighting the current batch. I can smell the smoke already.
Lunch was a deliberately low-cal affair � instant miso soup from a packet, water-packed tuna from another packet, nonfat yogurt and an apple. Around 1:30 my traitorous stomach began to grumble again, and by 4:00 pm was issuing angry manifestos and burning its own lining in protest over the supposed depravation; but still I resisted the urge to give in and snack. (I have myself to blame; after a halcyon youth of consumption without consequence, my treatment of my digestive tract in recent years has become an inconsistent see-saw between harsh discipline and spoiled indulgence � no wonder it acts out like this. Maybe we need therapy. Anyone know a decent organist? Yeah, OK, forget I said that. In fact, feel free to ignore everything in these parentheses).
So now it's after 5 pm, and I can turn my attention to the joy of completing the reams of paperwork my efforts generate each day. If there were a Paperwork Kingdom, I would be a princess in that kingdom. My loyal minions would shower me with paper clips and fan me with collating folders; a sweet miasma of toner fumes would linger in my wake, and all who inhaled it would be infused with the particular sense of euphoria and well-being that only a well-organized report can bestow. The phrase "PC Load Letter" would be verboten in my kingdom, for none of my subjects would ever go to bed with an empty paper tray in their printer. Origami offerings would litter the carpet outside of my luxury cubicle. I would have file cabinets made of platinum, and staple removers encrusted with rare jewels. Administrators the world over would flock to my palace to witness the wonder of me, and my files. Ah, what a sweet life it would be!
As things stand, however, I'll be lucky to get out of here with only a paper cut and a headache. And tomorrow morning the whole cycle repeats. But y'know� it's a living. Any of you unemployed (or underemployed) people out there, feel free to berate me for being ungrateful... although I'm not, really. Disgruntled and burned out, but not ungrateful. I understand that it could be much worse. I just can't help wishing it were better.
Feel free to skip this entry if you're sick to death of hearing about my fine floating friends...
Round two of Tadpole Madness is in swing, with about two dozen of the little guys swimming around this time, having hatched on Thursday. I've put them in a larger vessel in case their older siblings' demise was caused by too high a concentration of toxins in the smaller one. So far they're hanging in there despite our weekend absence (I read that they live off the remains of their yolk sac for the first week or so anyway), and seemed to be enthused about the infusoria. We'll see how it goes. I'm wondering, actually, if I should put them in multiple containers - maybe there's too much competition for food?
Pescadito survived his four-day fast as well, although he seems a little edgy now. I suppose I would be too, really... He jumped out again last week, and this time he flopped down behind the desk when I tried to fetch him - when I finally got to him he was covered in floor lint (which made him look sadly like his brother Bluto right before he died), but it all seemed to wash off OK and he doesn't seem to have sustained any long-term damage. Gotta keep that lid closed.
As if I didn't have enough of a budding menagerie, I'm in talks with my brother-in-law Mickey to take possession of his pet cockatiel. He adopted the bird from a family friend who couldn't take care of it anymore - it's a geriatric thing, on year 17 of it's 20-year lifespan, but it seems bright, and very lonely, being a social bird with few opportunities for interactivity. Mickey's got cerebral palsy and thus can't hold him or whistle to him - in fact no one in the house can whistle, oddly, which means a whole form of bonding with the bird is lost to them. Mostly the bird sits in his cage and stares at himself in the mirror. My father-in-law, not a huge pet fan, has been campaigning to get the bird relocated and Mickey's finally agreeable. Wee is tepid on the issue but willing to consider it. All I need to decide is whether I really want the responsibility of caring for one more pet and all its associated mess. I have been thinking about getting a bird for a while, though, and he comes with a very cool cage and all the accessories, so it's a minimal investment on our part. I dunno - what do you think?
So this weekend Wee and I loaded the pup into the back of our shiny new 4Runner and hit the road for Addulam Lodge, the family's cabin in the Mogollon Rim area of central Arizona, about a half-hour north of Payson. Traffic was, predictably, heavy, but we were comfortable in our new rig and happy to be getting out of town.
As we approached Phoenix we saw one of my favorite landmarks � the abandoned Phoenix Trotting Park. Viewed from I-10, the huge abandoned grandstand has a funky art-deco style that makes it look like a set piece for an alien locale from some 60's sci-fi show � one can just imagine the seats filled with bumpy-faced spectators beholding a loin-cloth clad Captain Kirk posturing his way through a gladiator-style battle against their baddest warrior. Here are some pics of it from the fascinating website Lost America (check out Gallery 3, sixth item down), and here is a history of the site taken from the Arizona League website:
Trotting Park, west of Litchfield Road, opened in 1962 and is highly visible from I-10. Briefly after opening a 100 year flood occurred, washing out bridges across the Agua Fria River.
Flooding made it impossible for people to reach events and subsequently the organizers went bankrupt and the site was donated to Grand Canyon University with the stipulation that the site be operated as a rodeo grounds for 2 years. After 2 years the park was placed up for sale.
About 5+ years ago the site was used as a movie set for an explosion scene**. Despite efforts to get all the birds and pigeons out of the structure approx. 500 pigeons were killed as a result of the explosion. Naturally, there was an outcry from animal lovers. Roles Inn later bought the site (date unknown) and is currently converting the old trotting park into a horse motel and RV park.
I have an inexplicable love for this place, albeit that I've only seen it from a distance. The architecture is just so whimsical and odd in a nostalgic retro way, and its desolation only serves to add to its sense of intrigue. I like the plan that these Roles Inn folks came up with for the place, but I've seen little evidence of renovation so far. If I ever became ridiculously wealthy somehow, I swear I would buy the place and turn it into� something. A bed and breakfast? The world's largest cyber-pub? Or just a kick-ass desert mansion � turn the enclosed grandstand into a huge greenhouse and create my own Garden of Eden. A girl can dream�
Anyway, we had a good time hanging out with Wee's mom, brothers Mickey and Shawn, and Shawn's wife Lauren at the cabin � the weather was hot hot hot, unusually so for a location with an elevation of over 7,000 feet, so we didn't venture out as much as I'd have liked. We didn't really even ride the quads much � I rode one around the back field a little to refamiliarize myself with how it worked, and Wee and his mom went zooming around on the roads a little (yeah, his mom rides ATV's � how cool is she?), but that was about it. It was still a great change of scene, though. The cabin is backed by national forest, so looking out back you don't see any other cabins, just field and forest and sky. We saw a small herd of female elk in the woods near the road up and a coyote slinking down the hill behind the cabin. At night you can step out on the back deck and see the Milky Way spilling across the darkness and the shimmering stars - a rare and wonderful sight for the city-dweller I've become. Being there reminds me of being in Oregon. I really love that place, and we're going to do our best to support keeping it in the family for as long as possible.
So here we are, home again, the 4Runner wearing the red dust of Arizona like a Little League uniform with its first grass stain � proud proof that it's in the game now. I miss having not seen fireworks this year, sparkly-things slut that I am, but being at the cabin was great too. I'm already looking forward to our next vacation from this daily grind�
Woe is me. The tadpoles have suddenly developed a failure to thrive.
We came home last night at an ungodly hour, having spent over 3 hours at another Toyota dealership trying and failing to negotiate a feasible deal on trading in Wee's truck for a new 4Runner Sport. Ugh. At least the sales guy was an actual human being instead of a blood-sucking parasite; he did a good job of going to bat for us with the sales manager on our admittedly aggressive targets, didn't pawn us off on a more aggressive salesman when we proved to be tough customers, and was a good sport about not making a deal in the end. Once we do a little more thinking on it, I'm sure we'll be back to talk to him some more - whether he likes it or not... heh Anyway, I checked on the tads, and was alarmed to find them either dead or moving very sluggishly. Thinking it was something wrong with the water, I transferred the ones that still seemed alive into a new dish. I glanced at them this morning, though, and they don't seem too perky. What went wrong, I wonder? Something in the infusoria water that wasn't good for them?
Oh well - the next batch is already forming in their eggs, so if at first you don't succeed, try try again... at least until you get bored and decide to toss the whole mess down the drain. We'll see how it goes.