In which it only rained.
The NWS cancelled the tornado watch just before I shut my computer down and the satellite went out. It got really windy and a storm front rolled in; it rained like hell for awhile and that was it. Bread called from Fairfield to say they were getting grape-sized hail.
No tornadoes. Whew. It did remain blustery and rainy throughout the night.
I made tacos for dinner at about ten. Bread ate a package of goldfish crackers (because apparently he no longer eats the vegetarian taco filling I’ve always served). We watched Big Love on HBO and went to bed.
Between the time change and the power flickering enough to set all the clocks flashing, there was absolutely no hope of my getting to work on time today. I still feel bad about rolling in late, though. I hate DST. It’s sooooo stupid. Why can’t we just pick a time and stay there all goddamned year long?
In which the weather is expected to get heavy, man, heavy.
Bread woke me up from a deep sleep this morning. Bread and three dogs and a cat all got in bed with me and wiggled and demanded my attention. I felt like I was surfacing from a still and silent depth into a world of wiggling, giggling, licking fur. I was annoyed to be awake but he came bearing a latte, a mocha he’d made, so that made it all right. I stumbled groggily out of bed, grasped my hot mug of creamy beverage, and followed him downstairs to sit in front of the woodstove.
He regaled me with a story of how he and all the pets had caught and released a bird that had somehow gotten into the house; at one point both Stella and Buz had launched themselves at the poor bird and smacked into each other. Bread admitted to nearly peeing himself it was so funny.
He tells me the Weather Channel wants us to go buy groceries and batteries for the weather radio. We’re to expect tornadic activity this afternoon. “Are we gonna?” I mumbled. “Get groceries and batteries?”
“We went grocery shopping yesterday,” he reminded me. “And we’ve got batteries. But I don’t know where the weather radio is.”
“It’s around here somewhere,” I said, gesturing vaguely and sipping my mocha, eyes barely open.
He laughed. “You should go back to bed,” he said, mussing my hair.
“I was sound asleep,” I mumbled, swaying in the chair.
‘Tornadic,’ I’ll have you know, is one of Bread’s most favorite words. He says it like he’s from Texas, with a silly little drawl. Tohr-NAAH-dic.
In which I consider how I spend my time.
I almost always drive in the left lane when I’m driving through Fairfield. The outside lanes are cracked and pitted and I don’t like them because they’re so bumpy, so I spend an inordinate amount of time behind people who are waiting to turn left. (The main drag through town is four lanes; no turn lane.)
When I’m old and dying, this is the kind of thing that will flash before my eyes.
In other news, I can’t stop clicking on the random image box and reading old posts. There’s just something so neato about trolling one’s own archives!
In which what the fuck?!
So when I checked on goblinbox before bed last night, everything looked fine. This morning my layout was all hosed and funky looking, and I — believe it or not — didn’t do it. I wasn’t even there! (It’s usually my fault, when the site’s screwy-looking, though I rarely admit it.)
So I changed my password just in case and then changed back to an older theme. I’m sure y’all recognize it. Links were orange, now they’re purple, but it’s an old theme. Maybe it’s time for a new spring theme or something.
I added Justinsomnia’s Random Image plugin today, which is amusing me greatly. It pulls an image from an old post and displays it over there at the right; if you click on the pic it takes you to the old post. Whee!
In other news, one of the two remaining Cobalt web servers here at work is dying a hideous death. (The password files are corrupted so users of the three remaining domains can’t connect or check their email or nothin’.) Been madly transferring domains to the new outsourced server, calling customers, faxing things, updating DNS. Whee again!
Starving. Going to get some lunch.
In which I write a short list.
1. It’s nice outside. Nice! No coat, no hat, breeze, walked-to-lunch, bugs are appearing, isn’t-this-lovely nice. (It’s about fuckin’ time.)
2. The Exploding Uterus Fairy has been by, and smacked me with her Cramps From Hell™ stick. (I hate her.)
3. I read this article today, and I totally resonated with it. But I can’t figure out if I’m an introvert or an extrovert. I need alone time, lots of it. Love too to be the life of the party. I think in public by talking, I also think in private in silence. I have no idea why anyone would want to have a conversation over breakfast, but I can party like it’s 1999 at the drop of a hat. I’m really extroverted. I’m really introverted. (Can a person be both?)
In other news, my co-worker Buzz just called my cell phone using CID spoofing and he rang in as Bread! I told him I’m going to kill him. What if I’d answered the phone with, “hey, how’s your cock” or something?!
In which I’m in SO much trouble.
I’m no longer allowed to post MP3s on this server ’cause I keep getting in trouble for it.
If I understand it right, goblinbox.com is physically located on a server colocated at The Planet, which is, I think, a server farm somewhere in California. I think my buddy Keef owns the box in question, and shares its operating costs with an awesome friend of his, Codergirl. Or something. To be honest I never really asked and the point is that I get free hosting so I need to be a good girl about it!
The first time I got in trouble for hosting copyrighted material, it was totally my fault. I’d been posting occasional playlists for y’all to check out, and/or uploading files for my own use and then spacing out on deleting the files later. The Planet got a lawyerly letter, which they forwarded to Codergirl, who forwarded it Keef, who forwarded to me. Codergirl’d gzipped’d the files together for me and put them below the site’s root, but I didn’t really need them so I deleted the file. Problem solved.
This time when I got in trouble The Planet actually disabled my account for a bit and said something about this being my second offence. Well, it’s actually all Jethro’s fault (tee-hee!) because I let him store a bunch of music files on my server while he was in between computers. (There were no links to the files, but because goblinbox.com is so well-indexed the files were easily located by lawyers. Natch.)
My account’s been restored now, and all those files are gone. Deleted. Erased. No more. The only MP3s on this site now are recordings I’m actually personally on. I guess if I feel the need to post music in the future, I’ll do it offsite at one of those free file hosting places.
The thing about these damned MP3 files is that you don’t really own them. Say you go out and spend your hard-earned pay on an album and take it home and rip it so that you can have a copy on your computer, another on your MP3 player, a copy in your truck, and so you can burn a backup CD in case the original gets scratched. You own the physical CD and can do pretty much anything you want with it: you can play it on any stereo you encounter, you can lend it to your buddy, you can leave it out in public where anyone can get it and listen to it, etc. But you emphatically can not store electronic files of that CD in a public place for your own use or the use of your friends and family without breaking the law and eventually getting a nice letter from a solicitor somewhere that goes something like, “We have learned that your service is hosting infringing files on its network. These files contain sound recordings by the artist known as Jamiroquai. These sound recordings are owned by one of our member companies and have not been authorized for this kind of use. We have a good faith belief that the above-described activity is not authorized by the copyright owner, its agent, or the law.”
The more ‘free’ MP3s come through my life, the more money I spend on music! I wish the entire world would go check out Baen’s Free Library experiment or JPK’s Free Reads or any of the thousands of musicians who post loss leader MP3s and shut the hell up about filesharing and copyright infringement already fer chrissakes. If I run across one or two songs I like, I’ll buy the album. I may not do it immediately, but I do buy it eventually. Since I don’t listen to the radio or watch MTV or have any exposure to new music whatsoever, the only way I’m ever going to find music I wanna buy is if it comes to me in the form of an electronic file I can put on my iPod.
Carrying around space-hogging CDs is so nineties.
In which I miss the BBQ. Of course.
Today a bunch of friends came out for a BBQ, but it didn’t really get into full swing until past 2:30. I had to leave for band practice, but Bread made me this stunning portabello mushroom with sauteed peppers and swiss on a bun thing, to go, so at least I didn’t starve.
I think there were five or six people here, enjoying the spring-like weather, eating outside, socializing. *sigh* I bet it was fun. (I don’t know for sure, though, because everyone was gone when I got home and Bread was asleep on the couch.)
Band practice was fun, as always. I have such a crush on those folks. PJK taught us his latest song and man is it good. Makes me feel like I need to bust out my guitar and write something new myself.
~+~+~
The memorial was lovely. The day was long, though.
MIL came over at 7:30. We left here at eight, caravaning, stopped in Ottumwa and went shopping at the Super Wal-Mart because it was the only thing open at that hour. Bread got black pants, a black sweater, black shoes, a black belt. I got a black purse… and a brown prairie skirt out of the fat chicks’ section. (I love half the clothes in the fat section. The first iteration of the new brown skirt that I picked up was like a size 22 or something, but I found a 14 that works. The waist is elastic, whew.)
After buying clothes, we ate at Country Kitchen then drove to JG’s eldest son’s house in Harford. He drove MIL, Bread and I rode in Bread’s truck. Eldest son and MIL went to the church, Bread and I stopped so he could get a haircut and his beard trimmed. (It was $13. For a cut and a trim. Love Iowa.)
The service was for both JG and his mother, who had passed in December. I think a mother/son service is particularly sad, but the pastor who did the mother’s service gave a nice homily about death being like the transformation a seed must go through to become a tree. A family friend did JG’s service and told the kinds of intimate stories and jokes only a good friend can. She played a Waylon song that had been one of JG’s favorites and MIL burst into tears.
After the service, there was food in the basement. A lot of people came, which MIL said was really gratifying. We’d arrived at 12:30; left around four. Met a lot of sweet people.
MIL bought us dinner at Spaghetti’s in Osky on the way home; we discussed the service and the distribution of JG’s things. She really seemed like the memorial service had given her a lot of closure… she even made a joke about forgetting her husband at the eldest son’s house (we had to swing back so she could get his ashes). She’s going back to work Monday, she says so she won’t stay home and wallow and sniffle all day. I think she’s terribly brave and strong.
Got home around eight. Hung out for awhile, ravished each other, went to sleep.
In other news, I’m practically well now, so my personality should be returning any minute. Amusing, thoughtful, well-written posts shall resume shortly.
In which goblinbox.com looks mediocre at 16 bit.
At work, I have a pretty hot computer and monitor. This is because I’ve worked there for so long that the box I had originally died and was replaced (finally). At home, I have a box my dad built me, with a monitor he got me for cheap.
At work, the orange banner is rich and beautiful, and the green is an intriguing olive with darker tones. At home? The site looks mediocre.
Oh, well.
I want a laptop, but I don’t want to spend two grand — even though I know I’d fall in love with a Mac laptop running OSX… I did a little used laptop shopping online today, and gave myself a wicked case of laptop envy.
I also want a new PPC. The one I have now is old and obsolete, and even though it still does everything I need it to do I want a sleeker, newer, faster, cuter one with the latest opsys.
And of course I want a new iPod, even though the one I have now isn’t even full yet. I lust after the form factor of the latest generation iPods, plus: video.
What else? Oh, I’d take a sleek, thin new cell phone, though the one I have does the job nicely.
In a nutshell, I lust after electronic devices. Maybe I need to get a second job. *wink*
In other news, we’re leaving at 8 tomorrow morning for the memorial service. We have to stop in ScrOttumwa to buy Bread some black slacks and shoes because he doesn’t own any (and redheads look, in my opinion, fantastic in black). Then we’ll drive a couple of hours up to some little town called Hartford, IA for a one o’clock celebration of life service, then back home again. Hopefully it doesn’t snow again, like it did today. MIL is doing as well as can be expected; we went out for dinner with her last night and it seems she’s soldiering through. JG’s union is coming through with a nice check to help her with all the expenses and I think that will ease her worry some, which is something she certainly deserves. I feel so much for her.
Again, I admonish you to hug someone you care for. Remember that Leo Buscalia guy, who was all about the hugging? Hugging is soooo good for you. Peace, my babies.
In which my day was so boring it’s practically a waste of pixels to even write about it.
I took so many naps yesterday I can’t even count them. Bread was in and out between here and his mom’s place.
I was awake at 6:30 or so when he called from the Dead Cock to announce that SB was in town with a bottle of Jamieson’s from Ireland and was I well enough to come have some? No, I wasn’t, but I encouraged him to have fun. He deserved it.
He rolled in an hour later with BoS and they ate the rest of the soup I’d made myself earlier — basically a cream of potato soup with peas and fresh dill in it — and BoS told me it was really really really good and they sat on the couch for awhile and then BoS left and Bread passed out from the whiskey.
I slept all night and then some, emailed work, hacked up a lung, worked on the Amma Iowa site a little, napped, drove the jeep to the barn for kindling (disgustingly lazy, I know, but it’s cold and I’M SICK), built a fire, took a nap, built another fire, made the world’s weirdest black bean coconut soup, ate, and am about to:
POP QUIZ!
Please pick one:
1. Make a sculpture
2. Take a nap
3. Do my nails
Didja guess 2, Take a nap? Didja? Because if you did, you’re right! Tonight we’re going to MIL’s for supper around seven so I gotta get my beauty sleep.
In which we all had a pretty awful day.
Saturday morning my MIL went up to Cedar Rapids to spend a few days with her daughter and granddaughter while her daughter, a grade school teacher, is on spring break. Monday, her husband’s oldest son called her to say he hadn’t been able to get in touch with his father. She couldn’t get JG on the phone herself, either.
Tuesday morning found me awake far too damned early — it was well before seven, and there was a rude and irritating few inches of snow on the ground — and sitting in front of the woodstove with Bread, hacking up a lung and listening to him call me Snot (like he always does when I have a head cold) when his mom called him and asked him to stop by her house on his way to work to check on things.
At seven-thirty, he called me. His voice was strained, husky. His mother’s husband was dead. He’d found him in the kitchen, slumped against the door. Thought he’d been there a day or two. Said he looked peaceful. It seemed he’d gone quickly, easily… Bread asked me what to do. I said I was pretty sure he didn’t have to call an ambulance in a case like this, but I didn’t know who he could call instead. I had that odd, dissassociated feeling one gets when things like this happen, and I could hear in my husband’s voice that he was freaked out, hurting. “My brain has just shut down,” I said. “Shit. Ah shit, baby, I don’t know what to tell you. I think you can call the funeral home directly, but I have no idea which one they’d want.”
“God, Mush. I don’t want to have to tell my mom this,” he said, voice rough. He cleared his throat. I could almost see him standing up straighter, throwing his shoulders back. “Okay. I have to call my sister,” he said. “I’ll call you back.”
When he called back, he’d told his sister and she was breaking it to their mom. He’d called 911 and services were on the way. He said people were probably going to converge on our place, since it was closest. I said I’d get the house presentable. He sat in his truck and chainsmoked. I had a cup of coffee and a big shot of NyQuil straight out of the bottle and started tidying the house, glad of the busywork. I worked up a sweat, sweeping, tidying, vacuuming, stacking all the dishes in a creative and coherent fashion right next to the sink.
Bread didn’t get back home until ten. He’d had to wait for the sheriff and the ambulance, the medical examiner, the guy from the funeral home. His sister and mother were on their way back from Cedar Rapids. JG’s sons had been called and were on their way, too, expected by noon.
I told Bread I was sorry he’d had to go through that experience… he lied and said “it was all right,” as men do, but that he sure wished for a shot of whiskey. Then he got up and did the dishes. I kept cleaning, then showered because I knew I couldn’t go anywhere smelling like a sickroom. Before too long his sister and her toddler and his mother had arrived. KW came in and while she and Bread talked my poor broken MIL wandered around outside for a bit, crying and breathing the air. When she came in I gathered her in a tight hug — she’s my height — and whispered the things you say to a woman who has suddenly lost her husband: I’m sorry. I know it hurts. I’m so sorry. We’re here for you. We’ve got you.
We waited — finding phone numbers, making calls, hugging, filling out the booklet Bread had received from the funeral home, tearing up and sniffling, guzzling coffee, chasing the toddler — until JG’s sons called again. Then we left to meet them at the funeral home.
KW and I stopped at MIL’s house to air it out and check on the cat and make sure it was okay for her to return to, which it was. Then went in to meet everyone at Behner’s.
Shortly after arriving there, my coffee/NyQuil cocktail wore out and I was wretched again and had to give the baby back to KW. I sat in the back and tried to breathe quietly. Eventually the arrangements were all made, the bill was presented, and the whole family went in to view the body. I sat with a box of kleenex in the big room and chatted with the funeral director and my MIL’s awesome bosses. (She’s Office Goddess for two attorneys, and they adore her.) The funeral director was sixty and had clearly chosen the right profession; he made the process bearable and smooth and balanced between compassion and humor. I liked him.
KW and baby and I rode together again afterward. It was after one o’clock and no one had eaten all day. We stopped at Hy-Vee for food and then went to MIL’s house where everyone was pouring over photo albums and crying and grieving.
I popped some cold meds and slammed a Coke and cooked. (Sure I’m a little sick but germs understand family emergencies, and those people needed food.) After everyone who was going to had something I tidied up, loaded the dishwasher, hugged and talked. Joined Bread in a foray to the bar around three, so he could finally get his shot of whiskey… and tell the barflies that JG had passed. They sent their condolences back with us.
Went back to the house, made dinner. Ate with my MIL while Bread and his sister went to borrow a playpen for the toddler and hit Wal-Mart for diapers. Sat and talked with her for a long while. She’s in pain, of course, but she’s a strong lady and she has the sense to let people love her when she needs to be loved — its a kind of grace. The whole day broke my heart, but it’s also only under such conditions that people really shine and their beauty shows. I was awed over and over by Bread and his little sister, how fierce and loyal and beautiful they are, how much they both love their mother and the lengths they would both go for her.
By the time her kids came back we’d finished our meal. I tried to nap on the couch but I can’t sleep in front of a TV. Bread finally poured me into my coat and brought me home at nine. I slept like a log. Woke up sicker, called in to work, and went back to bed.
Now Bread’s home from taking his mom to proof the obituary, and I’m going to make a cream soup and eat it. (Because when I’m congested? All I want to eat is dairy. Maybe there’s some brie left, that would really hit the spot.)
So, I love you all. Now go hug someone you love right now, because, as my second mom told me yesterday, “You can lose them so fast. So fast.”
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4 random books from my Library!
