fun fun fun

The irony of the title is that I'm off today, 1) because of my medical bit yesterday, and 2) because I *have* to get our truck registered. The problem is that it's going to take replacing the washer pump and an exhaust leak to get everything up and running and get it to pass inspection/emissions. Lucky me, eh? To speak nothing of the need of going down to the DMV and waiting in some ridiculously long line (since it's the last day of the month, you know . . .).

So you can see how the title is actually rather inaccurate in that regard

HOWEVER . . .

Sunday is going to be a LOT of fun. My brother and his wife and kids are coming over for the Super Bowl; my buddy and his wife and kids are coming over; my old college buddy is coming over (I think . . . I'm still trying to confirm that) . . . it's going to be a blast. We're getting a sick amount of pizza and drinks, and OH!!! Just thought of this . . . I should go get the drinks today while I'm thinking of it and no one else is shopping. Ha ha. I'm a genius. ANYway, yah . . . everyone else is bringing a munchie of some kind.

So that'll be fun, right?

The First Great Nostalgic Waxing of 2008

So, the other day, I was in some funk. Not necessarily a bad funk (though granted that is generally the accepted connotation), but a funk of some kind. It's the only way I know how to describe it. I felt "funky," so I was in a funk, right? Anyway, I looked up a bunch of kids I knew from the one year I lived in northern Ohio--grade 9 (I guess I shouldn't tell them that I like Duran Duran . . .). One amongst the search was a girl that I liked. It took some prodding and poking and massaging of Google to yield some results, but finally I found her. On LinkedIn, of all places. So I sent her an connection invite. Haven't heard back yet, but it doesn't look like she's all that active on there anyway. I'm curious to see if she writes back or cancels her account.

So that was Monday morning. Today, I got an email from an old friend. I'd say "ex-", but I wouldn't know what to say after that: it's a long, sad story . . . one for which I still wish had had a different way of letting go, but it is what it is . . . and, honestly, I think we're all better for it. ANYway, she sent me a lovely email, wishing me a belated birthday, which was really nice. It got me thinking about my college days. Well, single college days, anyway . . . lots of which were great, some of which sucked, but they were mostly good.

My father in law asked me a question about a month or so into my marriage to weef. We were visiting with them in their home on a nice, quiet, Sunday afternoon . . . until he dropped this bomb on me: "Do you ever wonder, 'what if . . . ?' about you and your ex-?" My answer surprised me a little, but apparently it didn't startle him in the least. "Not a day goes by that I don't wonder that." That kind of surprised me. His response nearly leveled me: "And it never stops . . ." Well!!

See, he kind of went through a similar experience to what I (and, consequently, "ex-" and weef) had to endure--the nerve-wracking decision of choosing an eternal companion, though I think his choice was somewhat truncated by the fact that his at-the-time girlfriend broke up with him. It's just weird to hear someone who had been married for well over 25 years say that he wondered nearly every day what would have happened if he had married "the other girl."

I can happily report that he's wrong. At least, in my case, he is. Weef and I are as happy as we could be, and I'm pretty positive that ex- is as happy as she can be with her man, to which I can only say, "GOOD! I'm so happy (and relieved!) to know that!"

Anyway, I'm sure there'll be other great nostalgic fits. This one in particular just felt blog-worthy.

That is all. Please return to your regularly scheduled lives and happiness. :)

HI!

So. Who's missed me? Who's actually noticed that I haven't posted anything since 1 December? :)

Well, Christmas has come and gone, new year's day has come and gone, as has my 36th birthday. My mom's birthday has come and gone too, but we'll leave that one alone. :)

See, the whole reason I chose this forum to blog from is because I could access it from work. On the days where I can actually take a small lunch, it'd be nice to vent in the form of some other kind of writing other than the boring "second person imperative/third person indicative" style that we're forced to use by MIL-STD 38784. BORING! But hey--it's my job. I'm happy to have it. Sometimes.

The whole blog thing came to a screeching halt back at the beginning of December, when I tried to log in to here from work. I got the "big brother is watching" screen that basically says, "no no . . . don't go here. Oh . . . and by the way, we're logging your IP address. Ha ha." Okay, so it doesn't say "ha ha," but I know the Comm nazis are thinking it.

So I couldn't post from work. That sucks because by the time I get home, I'm so mentally drained from having to save the world from lame program managers that I don't *want* to type anything. Lunch time is perfect: get a little boost of energy from eating, use the carbs and protein to stimulate what few neurons and dendrites actually function . . . but nooooo. No joy from the Comm folks.

Until today! For some reason, I checked to see if I could log in, and behold--new blog from work. Pretty sweet, eh?

So being the wonderful editor I am, I will now condense all of that into 3 sentences: 1. I used to be able to blog from work; 2 Comm dorks killed the fun; 3. Now I can blog from work again.

Look at that. MAN I'm good! *pat pat pat*

Anyway, I'm glad to be here. "Here" as in this blog--not at my physical location. That's actually rather irritiating.

I bet I post again before the end of the day . . .

Best wife EVER

So, as I'm sure you gathered from the other 4 previous posts, I'm sick. "So, get in bed, dummy." Factoid: once I'm up, I'm up. There is no going back to bed for me. Trust me--this has been tested for decades, and with only one result--futility.

Weef has confined me to the downstairs. Her exact words were, "You are to go downstairs, do NOT come upstairs until 11, get some rest, and I'll make sure the girls leave you alone."

So I've been sitting here, staring at the screen. Weef came downstairs with a HUGE glass of V8. "Here. Maybe this will help you feel better. I'm going to make some eggs in a bit. I'll bring them down to you."

Isn't she sweet? I sure do love that girl.

Love and Death, pt 4

Okay . . . hopefully, this will be the last post.

So I left work at 4:30. I felt like crap on so many different levels: physically, emotionally, mentally, professionally, humanly . . . it was just a really, really rough drive home. AND I had to pick up girls 1 and 2 from the sitter.

Weef stopped to pick up some pizza on the way home from her job. That was a pleasant surprise. While we were eating, I realized that I felt a lot better. I looked at the clock--5:30. "Ya know, honey . . . if we hurry, we can be on the road by 6 and to the reception by 7-ish."

"Do you really want to risk going up there? I mean, you've been sick all day. I think your family would understand."

"Yes, they would . . . by I really need to be with them right now. I don't get to see my family very often because of where everyone is; I'm not going to miss this chance."

So we went. And it was great. I felt like death the whole time we were there; the drive up was fantastic. I didn't cough once, and I felt really half way decent.

Without going into a lot of details, once we got to the reception, I had to run all over the place. It was cold and very, very dry, even with the falling snow. Once we got inside, my cough returned with a vengeance. Standing in line to see my cousin, I almost passed out. Sitting at the table, chatting with my mom, I almost blacked out. My back flared up, I was sweating profusely . . . but I was surrounded by loved ones. That's the first time I've seen all 7 cousins from my mom's youngest sister's family in a long, long time. It made me happy, and I *really* needed it. My mom and grandma were there; my brother and his wife and kids were there; all 7 cousins with their accompanying kids were there . . . even my cousin who's fighting the good fight was able to attend, and that just about made me weep with joy. It was just such an amazing experience.

I just hope I didn't get anyone sick. I slathered on the Purell as much as I could, coughed into my elbow as much as possible, etc. If I did get any of you sick, I apologize profusely . . . but I *needed

Funny ha ha . . . here's the summary of the last 4 posts: NEVER choose work over family. You will always regret it. If you have the chance to spend quality time with your family, take it; you never know when you'll get to see them again.

The end.

Love and Death, pt 3

Now . . . having said all that, I thought that I would make a good-will gesture to my team and show them that I *will* be there for them. I expect them to be team players; I can't do that if I'm not a team player.

Problem: today was my youngest cousin's wedding. My wife and I were invited to attend the sealing, wedding breakfast, and the reception tonight. After the lambasting I took on Tuesday, I felt that it would be better for me to stay with my team and be there for them.

I'm not sure I've *ever* been more wrong.

See . . . as the day progressed and it got closer to 10:30, I realized that work was the last place I wanted to be. I looked around at all these people that aren't as important to me and thought, "My family is 60 miles up the road at a wedding, and I'm stuck here because I made a *really* bad choice." At 11:00 am, I was as grumpy and mad at myself as I think I'd ever been.

Later in the day, as I talked with my branch lead, he asked why I had come in. I told him, and he said that was admirable, but then he asked if I'm going to regret the decision. "For the rest of my life, Barry. For the rest of my life, I'll always think of today--where I chose work over family. I feel sick to my stomach."

Of course, I really was sick in the physical sense. I have this tickle in my throat that produces this incredibly unproductive cough, all the while destroying muscle tissue and nerves spanning my entire back and neck. I cough so hard that I almost black out. Everyone at work yesterday was saying, "Dude . . . go home. You look like . . . . . ." I think you can guess the last word.

Part 4 is on deck!

Love and Death (pt 2)

So there's all that. I took it all in stride, listened to their "concerns" (the human resource and politically correct term for a word whose equivalent is vulgar colloquial slang for "complaining" and rhymes with "hitching"), and went about my business . . . but it ate at me. And ate. And ate. And ate . . . until today when I finally had a chance to talk with my branch lead about it. In the "order" of things, he's directly over me--my boss. Team, me, my boss. Anyway, he filled in some additional details, during which a guy who sits in my 4-pod cube farm turned to us and said, "I'm not trying to listen, but I can't help but overhear. Dude, you need to know this: you have a pot-stirrer on your team."

"Really. Who?"

I've had some shocks in my life. Finding out my brother was getting married was a really good shock, but one that I saw coming. Finding out weef's sister was marrying my ex-roommate was another really good shock. Finding out that my dad was dying, very bad shock. Finding out my grandfather was dying . . . very VERY bad shock. This was somewhere just below the very bad shock. Hearing from an outside, unbiased source that someone on your team is berating you in front of the whole office is one thing. Finding out that it is the same person with whom you had a conversation TWO MONTHS AGO (does "two months ago" ring any bells?) about coming to me with any issues or concerns is a flat-out heart-stopping, paddle-gelling shock.

Not to mention I have the cold from hell. Literally. I think Satan has vexed our whole household with colds, sniffles, ear aches, achy joints, spasmadic coughs and general illness, the likes of which have only been told in the Old Testament. And last time I checked, Satan is supposedly from hell. Okay, fine . . . I hyperbolize, but only to emphasize a point--I'm sick. Really sick.

Part 3, coming up!