Did I Die and Pittsburgh is Heaven??

Work is Grand

2008-07-29T20:11:00.003-05:00

Now that I've shaken the chaos out of the two programs I was given, they are rolling along quite nicely. The schedules I cobbled together 4 months ago are exactly predicting the progress I am making. It's like I know what I am doing. I've got a plan and the plan is solid. Even my budget guesses are accurate. Damn! If it were someone else, I'd be impressed, but I know how I came up with the numbers... so I'm less impressed as I am amazed. Here's an example. I have to run a routine test on the seals. I shrug my shoulders and say, eh, that should take 3 days. Then I add my nuclear industry time factor, and it comes out to 3 weeks. And sure enough, it takes 3 weeks. Guessing costs is similar. That test should cost $300, multiply by my nuclear industry cost factor, and I predict $3000. Yup, that's what they quote. Oh, and I know not to use any factor when my lead design engineer has anything to do with something. He overcomes the industry quicksand and does it in the time that a normal person could do it without the shackles of the industry. He's the best.

I sure do have to give a lot of presentations, though. I wish I could just record myself giving a briefing and send a tape to any and all who request an update. It's not that I don't like giving presentations, if only it didn't take away from making progress. Well, wait, if I recorded my presentations, that would allow me to make progress and then the briefing would quickly become outdated because I would make significant progress. Well, damn, that wouldn't work.

Besides the miracle-working lead design engineer, another bright spot in my work has been the freeing of the seal expert from the field. It is off-season for the field folks. I've become involved in several issues that the seal expert is involved in and presumably have been additive to his efforts. I return, he's been very additive to my efforts. I learn heap loads from him just talking to him for 30 minutes. It used to be hard to come by, those 30 minutes, but now, if I tried, I could get one or two a day! Pretty soon I'm going to be smart! Watch out!

What's weird is, with schedules that are actually predicting reality, it is becoming eerie to see that these projects have a finite end. They have been, shall we say, "evergreen" since inception 5-6 years ago. Always an end in sight and never reaching it. Now I'm sneaking up on those ends. It's new territory! Eep!

Slavin' Sarah

2008-07-29T19:29:00.002-05:00

Poor Sarah. Stuck with a tireless slavemaster coming up with exhausting and weird tasks (go up the hill and dig up as many bricks in the woods around the shed and bring them down to line this walk-way... and I mean dig, excavate... and the hill is steep enough to at least a blue ski trail... and there were dozens of these bricks... dozens and dozens). Either that, or I would go to work and leave her home by her self with a LONG list of things to do while I was gone. Most days the word "mulch" was involved. Day after day. Her only sane contact with the world was her never-out-of-reach text-messaging cell-phone (swear to God, she texted while we watched the movie "Momma Mia!" in the movie theater).

Although she averaged going to the city every other day while she was here, recall she went every day while her momma was visiting. So, we only went 4 more times for the next 10 days. All other days she worked from the moment she woke until after sunset (the sun sets around 9 PM 'round these parts). And her only companion was a slightly twisted aunt who kept saying weird words in Japanese and often danced around worse than Elaine from "Seinfeld." I don't know how she did it. Her brother broke down crying after a couple of days when he was younger.

The two remaining shows just got better and better the further we got away from that lame "Mame." "Smokey Joe's Cafe" started badly and by intermission it was enjoyable. The second half was great. The following weeks "Annie Get Your Gun" started off a wee bit hokey, but 20 minutes into it the show just rocketed into orbit. It rivaled "Wicked" on Broadway. It was spectacular! I can't rave enough.

"Annie Get Your Gun" was the 5th show of the 6-show series. After every show I tried to get home from the parking garage without getting lost. Keep in mind the GPS does not work in downtown Pitt, plus many of the roads are closed for construction. EVERY night until "Annie..." I ended up headed to the airport (opposite direction from my house, and wrong interstate altogether). On the ride to "Mame" I told Sarah I was yet to be successful navigating home from a show; that I always ended up headed to the airport. Sure enough, before we knew it we were on the bridge and under the tunnel headed to the airport. Sarah was cracking up hard. It only made it funnier that the GPS told us to take exit ramps that were closed and roads that were one-way. After "Smokey Joe's" although we practiced with the GPS before it lost its signal and studied the map, we got tricked and ended up on the bridge and under that tunnel. Sarah was howling. The GPS told us similarly poor directions, we ignored them (insulting the GPS as we did) and followed the trail we took the evening before. We finally were triumphant with "Annie..." only to be stuck in traffic, at 11 PM, at the tunnel that leads to my house. At least when we get lost we don't get stuck in that traffic.

Besides shows and dragging bricks and slinging mulch, some of my more favorite things we did was go to The Mattress Factory. It is an art museum for up and comers. Really ground-breaking stuff. I had low expectations, but saw some of the best displays (not really art) I've ever seen. I hope they have new stuff come in there often; I'd love to go back and see the same caliber stuff.

The other thing that was a hoot was having poor Sarah cut pavers for my back stoop/porch. I was the brains (who hurt her back) and she was the labor. I have a wet saw. It's an OK wet saw, but it is designed to cut tile. We had to cut the paver on one side and flip it over to cut through it. Well, my wet saw is designed to lubricate the blade with water it picks up from the bottom of the tray. Things are kept tidy with the blade shroud; the blade flings the water and the shroud covers the blade and redirects the water downward. The thing is, the pavers were too tall to allow the shroud to be used properly. So, I'm chuckling as I type, Sarah would sit in front of this saw and push the paver into the blade. The blade, without the shroud to take its glory, flings out a spectacular rooster tail of water that squarely hits Sarah in the face. There is no avoiding it. She must sit there, and the blade must fling. She had about 20 pavers to cut. At first the water was clean. Each successive paver introduced more and more sand to make mud in the water. After the first cut I offered Sarah a diaper and goggles. The diaper was a plastic bag to put around her waste. The goggles were those green chemistry lab goggles from college. When ever she started the blade, that enormous rooster tail would smack her in the face, and she had to sit there and take it. I had to look away because it made me laugh so hard (luckily the saw was loud enough that she couldn't hear me). She hated it. She would taunt me and tell me I better be paying her $100/hour for this! Then we ran into some trouble. I gave her 4 pavers and told her to cut them all the same way and showed her how. Four pavers means 8 cuts. Eight cuts means 8 rooster tails. After she finished she brought them over to me... and I realized that I told her to cut the wrong end off. She thought she was finished, only to learn she had 8 more cuts, 8 more much more difficult cuts. The sun had long since gone down. She wanted to kill me... but she's the one that didn't want to follow along with me as I explained what and why I was cutting each paver. She would have realized the problem after the first paver... but I guess being covered in mud and having to wipe your goggles after ever cut just to get a hint of a view could be enough to keep her mind occupied (the incessant wiping also had me laughing... with no saw to muffle the sounds... I got quite a many, "Oh shut up, you," from my dear niece. In the end I told her I was very nice to her not to have taken any photos, and now that the sun was down she was in no danger of me sneaking some shots. She was all for me getting the camera and turning on the flash to take photos. I regret not being able to capture that rooster tail. Oh that rooster tail can get me to giggling in an instant!

Mert and Sarah Visit

2008-07-29T18:24:00.003-05:00

Sarah just left. I invited her here for the 15-day stretch where I had 3 musicals to go to. It was her graduation gift... I'm the best aunt ever.

Mert, her mom (my bone-marrow matcher) came up with her for the first 5 days. Neither one of them had ever visited Pittsburgh before. Mert visited me when I first bought my house, but she was helping get me settled in and we didn't venture into the city. This was the inaugural visit. I hadn't done much in Pittsburgh in the year I'd been here either, so we were all going on the same expedition.

Well, the visit didn't start off well. My air-conditioner died a few days before their arrival and hadn't been replaced yet. We all had to huddle down in the basement where I had my handy portable A/C I bought the last time the central A/C failed. They slept on the pull-out couch; I resumed my position on the basement floor... where I spent my first 4 months in this house. Luckily the repairmen were coming the next day to REPLACE both the A/C and the furnace... thanks to my home warranty (which only has one month left!).

The night they arrived I got caught at work and they had to enter my house without me. Mert had seen the house when I first bought it, but that was almost a year's worth of improvements ago. I called her just as she entered my kitchen. She squealed with delight. "Judy! It's gorgeous! You are so lucky!!!" "You like it?" "I LOVE it!" What timing.

I arrived home just in time to change clothes and head into the city to see our first musical. It was "Mame," one of the classics. I know every song. Unfortunately, this production was a dud. I HATED it. I think the lead was drunk. It was just horrible; very choppy. Sarah liked it, until I was railing on it and accusing the lady of liquoring it up. Sarah then recognized the flaws and agreed it wasn't so good. I just hated it. It's such a good show, and they flubbed it. Strike one.

On the drive to the Pitt I was telling Sarah about the 'burgh and its people. I told her about "the Pittsburgh left." It's when opposing traffic allows the first car wanting to turn left in front of them, to turn left before they proceed through the left. It is ASSUMED you are going to let the opposing car go... it can get messy when an out-of-towner doesn't know the rules. Sarah was incredulous. She got to witness about 4 of them that night, of all different flavors. My favorite was the ESP Pittsburgh left. That's when the opposing car forgets to turn his left turn signal on and when the light turns green, he turns his blinker on... and tries to go. I was the poor sap who was opposing him who wanted to go straight. Sarah squealed. It was exciting on many levels. Then, in the middle of downtown, a guy in front of me decides to do a u-turn in the middle of the road... 100 yards from the next traffic light... just out of the blue. He held up traffic as he did his 3-point turn. I pointed out to Sarah that not one of the many people he was holding up in BOTH directions honked a horn. It is expected of us to smile and patiently wait for his world to settle down, before we go on our way. Sarah wanted to honk, and she wasn't even driving. She insisted, though, that she hadn't seen a Pittsburgh left yet (the ESP one failed, because I didn't see his blinker until after the light turned green and I went). As we walked around the city Sarah was darting her eyes looking for a Pittsburgh left. She was getting frustrated that no one was turning.

As we walked I told her to notice that everyone on the street, in the big city, will make eye contact with her AND likely either smile or say "hi" ... or both. She didn't believe me. The first guy we encountered after I told her that did both. Sarah was cracking up.

We entered the theater, and she loved it. What's not to love about the Benedum? Then the stinky musical. On the street we crossed to get back to the parking garage after the show, a classic Pittsburgh left took place... right in front of us as we stood there; we were nearly hit by the turning car. I looked at her and smiled. She looked confused. I asked, "Didn't you see it?" "What?" "The Pittsburgh left, right in front of us." "Oh man! I was looking the other way! That's not fair." No worries, before we returned home she saw one... and many more before the 2 weeks were up.

While Mert was still with us we went to the city every night. The next night I had to go to Japanese class. Traffic was yucky going into the city. That could only mean one thing, the Pirates were having a game. I told them how great the stadium was. They decided to see the game while I went to class up the hill from the stadium. Bad luck. It was the night the Yankees were back in town to make up for the rained out game ... the game was sold out. The only time it will be sold out for the rest of the season, and that's the night my visitors want to go. Ah, they had fun checking out the city anyway.

The next day we went up Mount Washington hoping to ride one of the inclines at sunset (USA Today rated it the 2nd best urban scenery in the country). We got there at sunset. It was magnificent. Then we heard there were going to be fireworks at the Pirates game ... in the stadium we were overlooking. We got the see the city all lit up from Mt Washington, then saw it sparkle with the fireworks. Great timing. I had no idea I was bringing them on the best night. They loved it.

Then we did something so Pittsburgian. We were Ohio-nice. While we were on Mount Washington and walking along Grandview Ave (appropriately named), we saw a cell phone on a park bench. I saw it and walked by it... so the person who lost it could come by and find it. Mert decided to take it and figure out a way to get it to the owner (she's lost a few phones and would have loved if someone did that for her). Sarah and I took it upon ourselves to figure out how to contact the guy. We searched his contacts for "home" and "mom" and such, but nothing. We decided to text the last two people he called that day. Within an hour the dude we texted called us and told us the phone belonged to his boss. He said he himself was 100 miles away, otherwise he'd come get the phone for his boss. Instead, he tried all he could to contact the boss, and failed. So he called us back and told us to leave it at his boss's office/home... it was only 15 miles away. We decided to make it an adventure... being Ohio-nice. Fifteen miles should take, what, 20 minutes, unless, say, the Pirates game just let out. Woof. We eventually find the place (thanks to GPS) and Sarah and I head up the back alley up the creaking steps in the dark. We were going to leave it on the porch, but we saw someone in the window, so we knocked. We didn't realize it was nearly 11 PM... oops. Turned out it was the phone's owner... who was naked, and hid behind the door as we handed him the phone he didn't realize he lost. That memory will live on, let me tell you.

The next day we headed into the city to check out the University of Pittsburgh's Cathedral of Learning. It has 20+ classrooms decorated by different foreign countries in their native traditional decor. VERY cool. Highly recommended. Then we drove around and saw some fancy houses and drove by the famous parks. Then Mert decided to take us to a famous cemetery prized for its beauty. Turns out they were having a Stephen Foster festival (he's buried there). It was very strange, with horrible sungs being sung, and expensive gourmet cupcakes for sale, and horse-drawn carriage rides to tour the acres and acres of dead. Strange but cool. It helped that it was a beautiful day. Finally we headed to the Strip District (not named for its strippers), but it was closing time. So I took them to the place that never closes in the Strip, Primanti Brother's. That's the place famous for putting french fries and coleslaw on all their sandwiches... a Pittsburgh tradition. Perfect.

We also went to the Big Mac Museum (down the street from my house). Pittsburgh is where the Big Mac was invented (OK, Uniontown, but let's call it Pittsburgh... the museum is in Irwin, though). We also checked out downtown Greensburg, the county seat... and checked out all its Victorian houses -- very unexpected (we were just lost driving around with our mouth agape).

Sunday we did some shopping and then before Mert headed off home, I wrangled her to help me and Sarah take a 14' x 12' Karastan wool rug up from the basement all the way up the winding staircase to my bedroom. It was like dragging a dead horse. It took forever. Belts snapped, Sarah was slammed around a few times, a trail of shredded paper and bits of padding were left behind. Luckily we didn't have to drag any real dead bodies as a result of dragging this carpet. Woo!

That was Sarah's first taste of the chores I was going to pay her to do while she was visiting (to make up for the wages she would be losing by visiting me and not going to work). The chores didn't necessarily get better...

That Wind-blown Look

2008-07-29T18:00:00.003-05:00

Went to the hair-dresser yesterday. I had just come from being denied entry into the DMV (closed on Mondays). I went there to get my new license, so I had spent some time getting my hair to look acceptable for the photo. It required a lot of hair product... I had wished I had a haircut. Now that the DMV was closed, I got my chance.

It was a great weather day. I had my car windows open on the drive from the DMV to the beauty salon. I hadn't realized it, but the wind whipped my hair around, and the product held it in its final position as I exited the car.

I went into the salon and as we walked back to the shampooing station, the beautician asked me how I wanted my hair cut. I said, "the same as it is now, but shorter." As I reached the sinks, I looked at the mirror behind them and saw the frightful sight of my hair. I realized I just told the lady I wanted the same look. I quickly tried to make some corrections to the wayward doo; I thought, surely she knows I want it to look NORMAL, not like the 5th Beatle... she didn't.

She started to cut my hair and all seemed well. She cut like a normal person cutting a normal haircut. The only thing was, when she asked me if I liked the length and I said yes, she was done. No styling. No part. No feathering it back. Just a mop head. I was concerned. She played with it, plumping it up, and I got more concerned. She thinks she's done.

Then she scooped up some wax and started to apply it. Ah, good, she's going to style it now. But, uh, she used the wax to force my hair into the "just came in from a hurricane" look. I had to fight from laughing. I knew she had cut it so I could style it normally when I got home, so I didn't need to explain to her. Then she blow-dried it. I looked like a clown, but without the bright orange color hair... just a mangy brown mop.

I got home and played with my hair a little, but the wax was cement-like. I shrugged it off and found something else to amuse me.

The next morning I showered and tried to fix my doo. Uh-ooh. I was wrong. She didn't cut it so I could style it. It was a permanent mop! I gelled, I waxed, I spritzed. No go. Just made it worse. And guess where I was off to? The damn DMV. My photo is one that could sell on a silly postcard or greeting card with captions like "Remember those bowl cuts Mamma used to give you?" and "Send in the clowns."

Ugh.

The Best Game EVER!

2008-06-27T21:44:00.002-05:00

It's been 48 years since the Yankees came to Pittsburgh to play the Pirates. The last time was when the Pirates whooped their butts in the last game of the World Series way back in the sixties before "groovey" was hip to say.

Westinghouse was hosting all the owners of our Reactor Coolant Pumps and little Judy had to go out on the town with them to show them a good time. We got a luxury bus (sounds weird, "bus" and "luxury," but it was limousine-like with a well-stocked wet bar and leather seats that faces the aisle so we all faced each other with mood-lighting, full-stereo and TV) and headed to the city for the game.

It was a GORGEOUS day. Perfect weather. Perfect. The stadium is lauded as the most beautiful in the major leagues. The stadium is situated so you have a clear, full view of the city across the river. The sun was hitting the skyscrapers and its bright yellow suspension bridge creating a scene as if conjured up by the Chamber of Commerce.

Pittsburgh Pirates are a lousy team. They usually fill 14,000 seats for home games ... in a city whacko for sports. This night the Yankees were in town. The leagues most winning team of all time. The highest paid players of all time. The rock stars. They sold out the stadium... over 40,000. And Westinghouse had primo corporate seating in the lounge area... with all-you-can eat and drink passes.

So it was the rock stars versus the "lucky to be out of the minor leagues" boys. First inning, the Yankees seem nervous. The Pirates hold them at bay, and end up scoring 2 against them! The Pirates are winning!!! The extra 30,000 fans were Yankee fans. They were stunned. The Pittsburghers were giddy.

You know what? Those Pirates were the luckiest little buggers I've ever seen. Their pitcher was the most pathetic I've ever seen. Walking dudes every chance he had. Filling the bases... and squeaking the third out before one of those "real" baseball players could make it home.

The Yankees were just as unlucky as the Pirates were lucky. Home runs were just squeaking over the fence. Balls were being dropped and turning into doubles and triples for the Pirates. The Pirates kept scoring and scoring. The crowd was like a kid high on sugar... we were dizzy with disbelief. The Yankees never had a chance to swagger. The Pirates were proving good guys don't always finish last.

The Pirates ended up scoring double digits over the Yankees. Every inning but 2, they scored. When they had scored 7, I started chanting "Double digits! Double digits!" By golly, they did it. The final score was 12-5... and the Pirates gave them the last 2 runs in the last inning with 2 outs. It was a blow-out.

It is one of the highlights since my move to Pittsburgh. Just perfect. And the pirogi races (Mrs. T sponsored)? It put the mid-west flair cherry on top. It was like Orwigsburg... so corny.

(I'm sure glad I didn't go the next night when the Yanks had their revenge with a 10-0 win!).

HON-EY! I'm Home!

2008-06-27T21:30:00.002-05:00

At long last, I have a kitchen. A real kitchen. With all new appliances that are plugged in and humming. Counters with counter tops. Light fixtures in all the holes on the ceiling. No more paper plates in the basement or fuses blowing when the microwave and refrigerator down there turn on at the same time. No more washing dishes in the tiny wetbar sink. No more eating at the bar and pretending I'm in a diner.

April, May, June... and now, a kitchen. A fancy-dancy oo-la-la kitchen. I came home from work today and I found that the last few items had been installed and the final invoice was on my shiny new counter top.

No more laborers on my calendar. No more staying home from work to oversee the progress. Oh! And I can FINALLY unpack my moving boxes!!!!!!!!! My kitchen stuff has been in boxes for OVER A YEAR. The items will be like bears coming out of hibernation... all scrawny and squinting at the bright light of day. Welcome home stuff!

With the completion of my kitchen that also means, with the removal of my moving boxes, I will have a family room, living room, and dining room again. Shoot. That's almost a home. Wow. I've almost moved in. Wow.

Now I won't have to be a project manager at home and at work. Oh, damn, I'm going to have to get a life...

The Big Bucks Have Arrived

2008-06-27T20:53:00.002-05:00

Luke is finally paying dividends, baby! I got a year's back-pay from my pension this week. Ooo la-la! It is a huge lump of dough to come along all of a sudden like that. My monthly payment isn't all that exciting, really, but multiply it by 12 and it's a mighty heap! If paid in pennies, I'd need a ladder to leap over it.

DuPont said if I got my paperwork in on time, I could expect my first check in July. I missed the deadline by 3 days. I figured they would be punitive and make me wait another month. I also figured "in July" meant "at the end of July." Instead, they treated me like I DIDN'T miss the deadline, and "in July" means "the last day of June." Woohoo!!! What a delightful surprise!

I also got my first MONTHLY payment check, the same day the other check was delivered. Oh, I THOUGHT they were checks (they look just like checks), and I was mad. I had told them to direct deposit them. I called DuPont to grouch and growl at them. They said it was deposited... surprisingly, they didn't screw that up. I torqued my head and blinked several times in surprise.

Of course, they screwed something ELSE up... Ah, that's the DuPont I have come to know. While I was on the phone with them (they put you on hold for 30 minutes, so it's best to take advantage of having them on the line), I complained about having to pay for my health insurance retro-actively (pay for LAST year's insurance... that I didn't get until THIS year). I said that was absurd. Turns out, they weren't charging me for it... They told me I didn't HAVE health insurance. Heih? Yeah, because I didn't pay my premium, they cancelled my policy in September, last year. I told her (trying not to YELL) that I only was approved as a pensioner in MAY of THIS year. I had to explain it to her, no lie, THREE TIMES before she figured out that they cancelled it before I even had it. Three times. Three. three.

I estimate a year before they fix this. Anyone wanna put a wager on this?

I asked her, once I do get my health insurance, will I be able to retro-actively get coverage for my bills from last year. She said I probably could, but they would only cover as much as they would have paid if I didn't have insurance paying for it... in other words, if Westinghouse paid 90% of the bill and DuPont would have paid 80% (or 90%), they will not pay me anything, because their 80% (or 90%) has already been paid to me. What a load of CRAP! I pay them, but because I ALSO paid someone else, they owe me nothing. What is stopping Westinghouse from coming in and saying, "Oh, you had DuPont coverage? We're taking our money back; let them pay, and we'll pay anything we would have paid if they didn't pay it." Who the hell is DuPont to decide that THEY are the ones that owe nothing on bills that I incurred. Let's just say, they have given me a new crusade. Saddle my steed; I'm off!

While on this crusade I will be enjoying my monthly checks. It's funny. The "incapability supplement" that they added to my normal pension is EXACTLY the amount that they take out in taxes. Oh, and the remainder? It's just a little bit more than my monthly mortgage check. My mortgage is a fixed expense, and my pension is a fixed income. It's a cute arrangement, don't you think?

Oh, this is the best part. I've always wondered why on earth people get married. Most people get sick of each other long before death parts them. What's in it for them? Sure, some men can't cook or clean, or some woman can't fix the house or the car... they leech off the other for their weaknesses. Well, I am more than capable of handling anything that comes my way. The only thing that I saw that was a benefit was they shared living expenses. I would come up short in the food department... a man would eat more than I. That leaves the house payment. They split that. Well, now Uncle Dupie has eliminated that one and only perk... my house payment is now covered. ...It cracks me up.

Waaaaaaaaah! My Boss is LEAVING!!!

2008-06-27T20:38:00.002-05:00

Oh the horror!! My boss called me last week and told me that they were going to be announcing he was moving to a new assignment. I was dashed. He said he wanted to tell me personally because, "he got me into this mess."

He was the number one reason I took this job. He is STILL my favorite Westinghouse employee. He is the epitome of "Ohio-nice" (even though he is from West Virginia.)

He was my comrade in arms. He did battle with me against evil sub-suppliers and wretched rapists. I'm sadder than a kid stuck in summer school.

He just finished giving me my raise, too. Unlike DuPont, where your performance seems to be in no way related to your raise because your performance review is held 6 months before you get your raise, Westinghouse tells you great things about you (in their own words), then doles out the money right there. It is a great feeling. They really know how to show the love. I wrote my review like I've always done for Uncle Dupie. For every attribute, I put something down for how I addressed it and accomplished its requirements. My boss laughed at me and said no one ever does that. I said, "but it says your supposed to." "Yeah, but they only do what they HAVE to do." Could you imagine a boss laughing in DuPont at the fact his employees disregard "what your supposed to do?!" Ha! My boss thought I was an over-achiever... by simply doing what I was supposed to do. I'm gonna miss him. Oh, am I ever. (wah)

Favorite Quote

2008-06-17T17:17:00.002-05:00

I got an email from my friend Lucy, whose husband Gary used to work with me in DuPont. (Gary quit, too.) In her email she said, "Pity all those poor people hanging in at DuPont, just so they can get the pension. You got your pension, and you got out of there....double win!"

It's the "double win" part that gets me giddy. When I first read it, I thought she was saying "you took the money and ran." But the "double win" part told me she was really saying "1) you got the money now that they were stashing away for you for later, and 2) you got the hell out of that rat hole."

Double win, indeed.

Three Rivers Arts Festival

2008-06-15T23:35:00.002-05:00

I loved the arts festival in the Pitt last year so much I went 3 times. This year's festival started last weekend. This weekend was the first weekend in a month that I didn't have to work. So, this girly went to the Arts Festival!

As before, I decided to take the city bus. I had to go on-line to get the bus and the festival schedules. While waiting for the printer to print, I happened to check the weather forecasts. Saturday -- rainy and thunderstorms all day; Sunday -- gorgeous. Guess which day I decided to go BASED on that data? Saturday, baby! No crowds. No sunburn. No baby strollers!

It's been a year since I took the bus. I gave the driver my ride voucher and she told me it was "old." They got new ones in March. I have $40 in bus passes that I think are now worthless. I already paid for the rides. They got their money. Why do they care when I finally take the damn bus? And if it's a big deal, why didn't they just tell me to give them the voucher plus any adder ($0.20)? Thank goodness I had 3 one-dollar bills to feed the bus's money machine. At least in Philly you could be shot for holding up the boarding process (in the Pitt, actually, you are likely to be smiled at, and maybe even given the $3 from a complete stranger).

The festival was wonderful with no lines. I wanted to twirl around with my hands stretched out like Julie Andrews at the beginning of "The Sound of Music" with a big grin on my face.

I was ready for the rain. I wore quick-dry clothes, plus Teva sandals. I didn't care if I got wet. The rain drops were just moist reminders of each person that didn't show up that day because of the rain. Let it pour!! Usually there is a LONG line to get the chocolate-covered strawberries. Not in the rain. I ordered mine without even stopping in front of the stand! As I approached, they took my order (no one else was within 20 feet. Things were going great.

I usually go to art festivals with one thing in mind. WOOD. This weekend, however, the festival was nearly devoid of ANYTHING wooden. What the...?! But a strange thing happened. The photographers were the ones reeling me in. Last year I only remember 2 or 3 booths with photographs (and I bought one). So, when the first one I hit had stacks of photos I loved, I went ahead and bought some. I have a whole house to decorate, you know. Lots of walls to cover. Rather than carry the big matted prints in the rain, I had them hold on to them until Sunday, when I knew it would be dry. Anyway, who wants to lug big poster-sized sheets on a city bus?

About 10 booths down, there was another photographer. I loved everything in her booth too. I already bought 5 photos from the last booth, so I tried to restrain myself. I wanted them all. I bought one. Good girl, Judy. Then 15 booths from that one I find another photographer whose every photo makes me want to fill the bus with them. I have already bought 6 photographs now, and paid big money. Well, this little piggy went wee-wee-wee and bought a FRAMED matted photograph from this dude. All three artists agreed to allow me to come pick them up the next day. I found two more photographers that had the same effect on me... I was like a crackhead. But I resisted. One thing helped me resist... I've taken photos just as good as some of these, and they are personal memories, yet I don't blow them up and frame them. I've been inspired to do so now. (Oh goody, another project to heap on the pile.)

Well, I went back today. This time I drove. It was a good experience, to realize I want to take the bus all the time -- streets are closed and parking is expensive.

The walkways between the booths were PACKED as yesteryear with people who were walking slower than limping zombies. Usually that would be OK, because you want to have time to see what's in each booth, but I was on a mission. An in-and-out mission. Get my stuff and scoot. I wasn't scooting. I was going so slow caterpillars were passing me on the sidewalk.

But I got my goods and stood in line for some food. The shortest lines were 3-people deep. Chocolate-covered strawberries looked to have as many people standing in front as does the sideline of a Steelers game.

I took advantage of being in town (a 25-mile drive) by stopping in Lumber Liquidators to pick-up some off-spec bloodwood flooring I ordered TWO MONTHS ago. They called me last week telling me it was in. Just my luck, I get there 10 minutes before closing and the infamous soup-kitchenesque lines were gone. Just me and the two clerks. Get this, I walk in and say, "I'm here to pick up the bloodwood that I ordered weeks and weeks ago," and they said, "Oh, hey, Judy, we'll bring that right up for you." Dude! They know my name! Wow. It's the fourth time I've been there in a year. Like I said, it's usually PACKED. And they remember me. Cool. I wonder if they know my birthday, too. Ooo, and get this, I bought off-spec stuff (I have the woodworking equipment to bring it back into spec) to make frames and such. The guy delivers it to my car (they don't do that for anyone else) and tells me I lucked out. The warehouse never delivered my shipment, so they just decided to give me first-run (not off-spec) stuff for off-spec price. Yes!!!! This stuff is gorgeous! I went ahead and did the Julie Andrews swirl right there in the parking lot.

Boss Keeps Tabs on Employees

2008-06-15T23:19:00.002-05:00

My boss is the best. He remembered my birthday and gave me lottery tickets wishing me luck to win big and free myself from needing employment. I've never had a boss give me something for my birthday. The vast majority of them didn't even acknowledge it.

Much later, I stopped by my boss's office and he wasn't in. I went to his desk to write him a note. His desk is always absolutely empty. No piles of paper. No files. No rolls of drawings or sketches. No photos or doodads. He has a cup with writing instruments and a big calendar/blotter pad. That's it. As I was writing him the note I saw this little crib sheet in the corner flap of the calendar/blotter. It was a list of all his employees and their birth dates. Of all the things he wants to have on his desk, that's what is important to him to look down and see everyday.

Who DOES that?! What a sweetie! Oh my god. It may seem small, but chicks really dig that.

Yup, heaven. I died and went to heaven.

Moving Damage

2008-06-08T21:22:00.004-05:00

Dude! They fixed all the furniture they broke during the move. You can't even tell they were ever damaged. One of my pieces, an antique mahogany pie-crust table, they took it away and completely refinished it. It looks BRAND NEW!! I bought it used, in very good condition, for $100 or $150. The cost to the moving company to refinish it was $350!!! It is GORGEOUS!

My chest of drawers in my bedroom had tiny spots where the finish was worn to the bare wood from the drawers rubbing on the casing during transit. Maybe 5 tiny spots... smaller than an ant each. They refinished the entire front of the dresser. I don't recognize it! Nice!

Remember they bashed my drill press and I didn't notice it until the day after I sent in my damage report? Well, initially, they didn't pay to fix/replace it. Technically, they didn't have to (but the adjuster said they might because my company is a big customer). So, I begrudgingly took the loss. Reds said I should fight it. I told him I didn't have time to fight it -- HE should fight it. So, he did. I had to call them and give the adjusters the details, again, but a week later, without notice, a check for the cost of replacement showed up in my mail. Sweet.

It was a royal pain to move. A lot of work. A lot of hassle. But, the like-new furniture and their paying to replace damage items, that I'm not replacing is quite agreeable. They paid me $90 for a lamp that just needs a threaded coupling. I told them what was wrong with it... but they didn't want to bother fixing it... they only fix furniture. I fixed it myself for nothing. They paid me $15 to glue a little piece of wood back on a little wooden statue. They paid me $50, which is how much they would have charged to fix it, to fix a seam they ripped in my bed-spring... something no one will ever see, and I will never fix.

On top of all this I got to watch the furniture repair guy do all these fancy repairs, right here in my home. I got to see his tools and equipment. I would have had to pay at least $100 for a class to learn all this. And when the guy left, he told me I could call him anytime if I had any questions on refinishing jobs I was doing (he knew I was a woodworker and furniture refinisher). Cool. And he gave me the low-down on where to buy stuff. Ohio-nice.

French is Not Their Forte

2008-06-08T20:34:00.004-05:00

You've heard of Versailles, right? Who hasn't? Louis XIV's little chateau outside of Paris. The treaty that spawned World War II. You don't have to know how to speak French to know how to pronounce it. Maybe a lot of people haven't really even seen it spelled as much as they have heard it pronounced. It's 'VER-SI'. Long "i" at the end. Here in the Pittsburgh area, just up the road from me is the town of North Versailles. I've never heard it pronounced. I've only seen it on the map and on store receipts and such. I asked a kid cashier at the local K-Mart where the kids of North Versailles go to high-school. (North Verailles is a run-down town and I wanted to make sure they didn't go to my school district.) The kids was definitely in high-school. But he just looked at me confused.

He said, "What?" Like I was screaching and hurt his ears. I asked him again, where do kids from North Versailles go to high school? He said, "Where?"

I said, "Yeah. Where do they go? Where do kids from this town go to school?"

He told me where he went, and I asked him, "And you live in Versailles?"

He said, "No I live in North 'VER-SALS'."

DUDE!!!! They pronounce "sailles" like "sales." DUDE!!! Oh, my god. I heard it later on the radio. They say 'VER-SALS'!!! I weep for them.

Later I was checking out the map and saw a scenic drive that goes to Ligonier, PA. I asked my buddy at work how far away Ligonier was... pronouncing it as the French word it is 'LIG-O-NA' with a long A at the end. He had no idea what I was talking about. Learning from my Versailles experience, I said, I didn't know how they pronounced it, but in French it is pronounced 'LIG-O-NA'.

He said, "Oh! 'LIG-O-NER' with a long E. They pronounce the R. They butcher the French pronounciation so bad I didn't recognize how it could even be pronounced that way. I had to look at the word again just to absorb the complexity of the contortion my brain was being asked to perform.

I still can't call Versailles "Versales," but I've grown accustomed to "Ligoneer." Sadly.

Just in time for my trip to France...

Summer Theater In a Pittsburgh Palace

2008-06-08T20:24:00.002-05:00

Six Broadway musicals in less than 3 months, baby! Pittsburgh summer theater has national tours of major musicals come through all summer long. I got season tickets. There is a stretch of 15 days where I will see 3 musicals! And, oh, the theater! It is GORGEOUS!! I have been to scores and scores of theaters in my day. This is definitely in the top 5! Oh my god! The Benedum Center in Pittsburgh is impressive. It cost $3 million in 1927. That's when a million was worth something. It is jaw-dropping. It is worth the price of admission just to get to walk around the joint. It was called "Pittsburgh's Palace of Amusement." You gotta like that.

Work

2008-06-08T19:27:00.002-05:00

Been working the last 3 Saturdays in the lab. Running tests is not work for me. We have to do it on Saturdays because we are testing seals at close to 600 F and 2400 psig. Nobody wants to be around if the seal fails. Shoot, I don't even want to be around.

The tests have just been outstanding. Every time we do a test, we FAR exceed expectations. Pretty much we slap a piece of chewing gum wrapped up with an old shoe string and stuff it in there -- AND IT HOLDS! No matter what we do to the thing, it holds tight. At first we just looked at it rudely. It held. Then we called it bad names. It held. Shoot, we kicked it, shot it, then set it on fire. It still held. We have run out of ideas on how to get it to fail. We're even thinking about taking the shoe string off and seeing if a wad of chewing gum will do the job!

The thermocouple insulation burns, the gaskets melt, the orings lose their compression, but that damn chewing gum and shoelace keep on cruising. It's like we knew what we were doing. Who knew nuclear engineering was so easy?

While not in the lab, I'm in my little office. Rapist dude is back in town and is working with my colleague across the aisle from me... by a sick twist of fate (on paper, he should never have any dealings with my colleague). The company says he can be near me if he has legitimate work to do there. Not surprisingly, the turd goes out of his way to come visit my colleague. My colleague's wife tells me that my colleague has been wondering why this jerk has been visiting him so much... when he doesn't need to. I hadn't told him what the rapist dude had done... it's not like my colleague can get out of working with the creep. My colleague would just feel uncomfortable all the time being forced to work with the deviant. Like my poor boss. He knows the whole story about the guy and has to work with him on a weekly basis. I can see it makes him sick. I decided to do my buddy a favor and not tell. This, did me no good. The creep reveled in coming by my office and my friend didn't know to stop him. I'm sure his wife would be so happy to know he hasn't left this in his past. I'm sure he has convinced her the whole thing was a big mistake and he'd never do such a thing to her again. I'm sure she doesn't suspect a thing. Of course he would never hurt her again... that would make him a monster.

Turns out my company is a little sick of the creature. At first they were saying I had to have a guilty verdict to keep him permanently away from me. (If they gave him a choice I think he would choose to keep the hell away from me than to force me to prosecute him... and if he were smart he would keep the hell away from me to dissuade me from WANTING to prosecute... duh.) Well, his antics had them act without the verdict. Rather than keep him away from me, they are keeping me away from him. They set me up really good in a fancy new office far away from him... far from anywhere he should ever be... matter of fact, if he is seen in my area, he is toast.

Everyone is wondering why I got to move. Heh. THEY want to be in the part of the building I got to move to. Heh. Maybe the creep can attack each of them and we'll all get to move the hell away from him. I really liked being in the center of the action where I was before. All the power-brokers were there. Now, I have the serenity of a library. It's like after-hours where I was before. I always had to wait until after-hours to get any serious work done... and not get home until late. Now I can do serious work during the day and go home after 8 hours. Hooray! It's kind of like when I got cancer. Sure, sure, there was some really yucky stuff to slug through, but some pretty good stuff came out of it -- a pension, for example, 9 months off of work, a new job. Nothing is all bad, I guess... except maybe the rapist dude.

What else is new at work? Well, I might be sent to Philly for a short-term assignment. Wouldn't that be cool? I could visit old buddies, and shop tax-free. I'd like that. Oh, and I wouldn't have to live in my house that seems to be ever-ready to cause me heartburn. A nice vacation. Oh, and working in Philly would entail playing in a lab a lot. Delicious.

So, work is good. I still like my boss, and my boss's boss, a lot. I like my projects. I like everybody I work with. The nuclear business is still booming and they are recruiting like Uncle Sam after Pearl Harbor. Leaving DuPont was really, really good for me. I recommend it for everybody.

Antarctica -- Check! Where else?

2008-06-08T19:07:00.003-05:00

I confirmed with my cousin Sue that she'll join my for an adventure in Antarctica this winter. I can't believe I haven't taken a day of vacation all year, yet! I have 5 weeks yet to take... I can take 6 if I get permission... and not get paid. With a DuPont pension, do you really think I WON'T be taking 6 weeks? Yeah baby! The Antarctica cruise is 11-days, plus we have to get to Argentina, and we'll want to take in that country while we are there. That's at least 3 weeks. Hmmm, what shall I do with the other 3 weeks?

Hopefully they'll send me to Japan and France for work. I was a shoe-in for going to Japan in June, until we had another job go awry in April with the same Japanese customer. Now our customers have all but forgotten their request to have me present my findings. Dratted. Never the less, I am continuing my Japanese classes. I am now taking Japanese II. Of the 13 students from Japanese I, only 4 of us have come back for more. It was brutal the first day back from a month off. Thank God I listened to all my cd's again all those hours I was installing my floor. The professor quizzed us on EVERYTHING. After a while he just saved all the tricky questions for me. My little brain was smokin', I tell you. I couldn't believe I was remembering stuff! By the end of the class, he was just looking at me the whole time explaining the new material. It was uncomfortable for the first few minutes. Then I looked over at the other people and saw that they looked like recent lobotomy patients. Not quite drooling, but close. Their brains were fried. Poor wretches.

I have a meeting with the French in June, but we made it a conference call. It's hard enough to have a meeting with people in the same room who don't speak the same language, but conference call? Hopefully they will find it so distasteful that they will ask us to come over there next time. They came in April... September might be good for me. Paris isn't as hot or as crowded with tourists. Yeah, I'm shooting for September... Gotta brush up on my French. Yeah, that'll mess me up with my Japanese, I'm sure. I'll be bowing to the French and kissing the cheeks of the Japanese. Stupid American.

House Woes

2008-06-08T18:26:00.002-05:00

Good Lord, this house sure can suck the life out of a girl.

I have been living without a kitchen for 3 weeks now. The kitchen installers hauled away everything in my kitchen a month ago and left me to install my new hardwood floor. I asked for three weeks. I'm glad I told them 3 weeks. I couldn't work on it for the first week because work got hot and heavy on me. Then I had to go full throttle to meet my schedule. I was John Henry, I tell you. Slamming that hammer and driving those nails and a steam-driven machine. It killed him, you know, John Henry. It's hard, man. But I'm not a as frail and weak and he... I toughed it out.

Let me say, if you ever consider installing an unfinished hardwood floor, go for 3 1/4 inch quarter-sawn. I can tell you from experience, it is 200 % easier than 2 1/4 inch oak. Not only does it require 50% fewer boards, but quarter-sawn oak is FAR less likely to have warped, cupped, or twisted boards. No finagling to get those puppies to line up. Just slap them down and and tap them flush with the next one. I whispered to them, "Move over, honey," and they'd scoot over all by themselves, it seemed.

Last time I installed 300 square feet of hardwood flooring my hand went numb, but I wasn't finished, so then it ached, still not done, so it hurt for MONTHS. This time I was dreading the return of the pain. My hand never fully recovered from the last time. I believe I have permanent nerve damage. It hurts to play "One potato, two potato." Well, with so little extra banging to get the board to cooperate, my hand only ached, and felt weak. No serious pain. I can't open a jar, but I can snap my fingers and give the the thumbs up... all that's really important in life. So, hooray. Oh, and the floor looks grand. I have yet to slather the finish on... it was such a horror last time, that I'm putting it off until the last moment. Anyway, it's too damn hot to be upstairs.

Yes, June 5th was the first day in Pittsburgh that warranted air-conditioning. That was Thursday. I got home late Thursday. I turned the AC on and let it cool the house before I retired upstairs. I stayed in the cool basement until 1 AM... the house never cooled. DAMN! This is the first summer in my new house; the first time my AC has been tested with serious heat. Who would have guessed, my house wasn't up to the challenge. I slept in the basement... on the couch. No kitchen and now no bed. This is the high-life baby.

I didn't call the repair man, because I didn't have time to trouble-shoot it. Friday was even hotter. When I returned home, the house was the same temperature as it was outside, and even hotter upstairs. I did some trouble-shooting and realized it probably needed freon... I slept in the basement again. Thank God for my basement. It is a good 20 degrees cooler.

The next morning I STILL didn't call the repairman, because I had to go into work at 8 AM. I didn't get home until past 7 AM (don't worry, I'll take a comp day this week... to finish my floor). I didn't call the home warranty/repairman until this morning. They said they will call me FOR AN APPOINTMENT on Monday. This heatwave is supposed to last until Tuesday. My basement is now up to 80 degrees. I have no place to hide. I believe I am melting.

I hope the AC is fixed before the kitchen installation dudes show up. They were supposed to come tomorrow, but their schedule is backed up (they freaked because they thought my floor and I were going to hold them back). They will be here Wednesday. I think they are going to be in a 90+ degree house. And lucky me, I have to be here with them... if I survive until then.

Oops

2008-05-11T13:01:00.004-05:00

Like a dog trainer, I have taught my piano to sit... luckily I did not advance to having it roll over... or crash through the floor.

I had to move the piano closer to the wall to make more room in the Living Room. It was a non-issue when I pushed it AWAY from the wall a few months ago, to make room for painting to room. Well, apparently baby grands are big babies. They just go one way, and lay on the floor kicking a screaming if you try to get them to go in the opposite direction.

See photo.

I have fixed it and all is well now, but the kicking a screaming this brute did when it hit the floor made me think I was going have quick access to my basement below.

Chaos Receeds Only to Resume

2008-05-11T12:58:00.001-05:00

I was really making progress on my house. I had the Family Room, Dining Room, Living Room, and both upstairs and downstairs foyers done. I could go into a room and feel like I was in a home. No boxes, no plastic tarps, no paint buckets, ladders, dust... just a normal room. The rooms were cozy, too. If it weren't for my kitchen, I could have invited friends over... if I had any.

Just last week, my house reverted back to the "just moved in" look. The custom kitchen guys have begun the dismantling of my kitchen. Everything that was in the kitchen had to find a refuge camp willing to accept them. Kitchen stuff only goes in kitchens. It's like a bridal gown; it looks out of place anywhere else.

So, all the boxes I didn't bother unpacking for the kitchen are now piled high in the Family Room. My fancy-dancy leather sofa, chairs, and ottomans are covered with protective tarps. So too are my new velour chairs and big ottoman in the Living Room. There is no place to sit on the whole first floor. The fridge, food, eating/cooking utensils, microwave, and dishwasher are in the basement around the wet-bar (I'm installing the appliances there). All I got rid of was the range. The cabinets and counters, including the sink, are in the garage, mostly, and laundry room and Family room. The kitchen is a hollow shell. And it has only just begun. They don't expect me to have a kitchen for another 2 months.

Reds came up for two weeks for the disassembly of the kitchen, so I could go to work... and not be alone with handymen... which has been problematic in the past. Unfortunately, Reds made his reservation a month in advance, based on the information the installers gave us. They didn't tell me they weren't going to start on the Monday they targeted, until the day before Reds was to arrive. There was no going back. So, they started a 2-week job 4 days late. Reds had to go home to host Soo. Now I am stuck alone with handymen in my house.

As I brought Reds to the airport yesterday, he remarked, "I didn't get to do much sight-seeing this trip." No, he sure didn't. While the installers were here he was stuck at home, without a car. He kept an eye on the fellas, and did odd jobs around the house to occupy himself. Before they arrived, he toiled away either working on the house with me (getting the kitchen ready for the tear-out... I was glad they were coming late... I wasn't ready), or shopping, cooking, and making phone calls.

He did a lot of painting that is ultra annoying to do. First he spent 15 hours cleaning up paint splatters near the top of 18-foot high walls. The splatters closely resembled seagull droppings. I had been putting off that task since February because it was so daunting. Then he attacked both the guest bathroom upstairs and the one in the basement. He meticulously masked off everything, and painstakingly painted even behind the toilets. Primed and painted, walls and ceilings. Only drawback for having a near-80 year-old person paint for you is he can't see. He can't see where he missed and he can't see drips. Just masking off the rooms was plenty of help, so touching up his cataract creations seemed like a good deal. But until I do that, both bathrooms remain lined in blue tape and covered with cardboard and paper.

Soon I shall have piles of hardwood flooring stacked up all around the kitchen (in the rooms that were once completely home-like). I will be installing the floor for a few weeks, then the installers will complete the job installing everything else. But just because the kitchen will be done, that doesn't mean all the crap I pulled out of there and put somewhere else will be settled. I got tons of work to do reinstalling the counters and cabinets in their new homes, plus the dishwasher, and wiring for all the appliances downstairs. Oi vey. When will I find time to protect the world from nuclear meltdowns?

Reds kept telling me, "At least your house will be the way you like it when it is done." Why does he ever think it will be done? Starting one project forces 3 more. It's like I'm working my way down some Amway organization chart when I map out my to-do list.

I couldn't imagine doing something like this with other people living in the house, especially kids. I'm lucky. I'm the only one that has to put up with this, so I don't have to also put up with people putting up with this.

There is Talk about Sending Me to Philly for a While

2008-05-11T12:55:00.000-05:00

A few things are aligning that would make sending me to Philly for about a 6-month assignment a likely scenario. That could be cool. It would be better if it were the Swiss Alps, but Philly is nice, too.

The rapist has been sent to the far reaches of the earth for the past 3 months, returning a day or two here or there. Running in to the cretin makes for an unpleasant day. He does not try to avoid me; I believe he revels in finding an opportunity to waft by like a foul putrid scent. He is not stupid enough to attempt to talk to me, which will get him fired. But he waltzes on the brink of being fired by even coming near. I have been working with the District Attorney, State Troopers, Human Resources, and my boss to make things acceptable for me to continue working where I am.

The other thing that is happening is we are really peculating on my development programs, both of which involve our partner in Philly. In passing the guy from the partner company suggested I move down there to help with all the activity. I immediately told my boss of this suggestion. He thought it was a great idea. He talked to one of my mentors, and on his own, that guy suggested we send someone, preferably me, to the partner's site. My boss now has 3 people thinking this is a good idea.

Sending me down there will buy time for the powers that be to resolve the untenable situation in the office when the ogre happens to be in town. I suggested we send him to Chernobyl. I'm sure the Ukrainians could use some help over there... maybe they can lay his body on the hot spots to help absorb the radiation.

This Thursday my boss met with the partner and got the OK to send someone down when we start some of the activities. It will be expensive for him; I don't know how they are going to fund my stay down there. I hope it doesn't involve a tent and a local park.

I do look forward to all the testing I'll be involved with in their labs. I want to play! So, people in Willy and Philly may be seeing me soon! And hopefully Chernobyl will be having a long-term visitor, too...

Big Fat Back-Pay Check from DuPont is Coming!

2008-05-11T12:53:00.001-05:00

I got word last month. I have been granted my Incapability pension! That means they start paying me NOW what they would have waited to pay me in 20 years... plus an Incapability Supplement (33% more cash!). I get full benefits (medical, dental, life), too. Since I should have been receiving this from day one after departing, I'm getting a hunk-a hunk-a burning love in the form of a check with 10% interest!

If my lawyer was on the ball, I could have received this months ago. He would always wait until the last minute to make his last move. But, he was successful, and in less than a year. I was told to expect 2 years to resolve this. (Some less clear cut cases take 10 years.)

DuPont capitulated without us having to resort to suing them. That, unfortunately, may mean DuPont isn't responsible for paying my lawyer fee's... not sure yet. If I do have to pay the fees, that eats up 1/3 of my hunk-a hunk-a. My lawyer refers to my big check as "found money." I don't consider it that. It is a benefit that DuPont gives all its employees (who are "lucky" enough to become unable to perform their job). I earned it, just as I earned my paycheck each month. I don't think if they stopped paying me for a year and then finally cut me a check for my full salary that I'd call it "found" money.

The lawyer was just trying to lighten the blow of loosing the wade to him. Now, if he would have worked for it, I'd feel better. But, I did all the research and data gathering. I compiled it and highlighted the juicy parts. All he did was put a cover letter on my stack of documents. He printed out the cover letter and my stack 3 times. For that he is getting thousands and thousand and thousands of dollars. In my estimation, he is getting about $1,000/hour. Niiiice.

Hmm, I think I see now why he dragged his feet on getting his letters out each time. He knew I was going to win this case (he said so from the very beginning). The longer I wasn't paid, the larger the check would be from which he skims off the 33%. Blasted! I didn't see that coming. I thought for sure we were going to have to sue those creeps, and they would be responsible for the lawyer fees. Dratted!

I'll try not to think about all that, and just enjoy swimming backstroke in the sea of cash that is coming my way! If I get tired of that, I'll do some origami with it... or spend some... on books on how to do origami, perhaps.

One Year Anniversary

2008-05-11T12:51:00.001-05:00

My last day at DuPont was May 11, 2007. Today is the one year anniversary of my emancipation. So, that's how long a year is, eh? It seems like a long time since I've been gone, yet a short time since I've been here. I've heard this phenomena explained by pointing out that learning a bunch of new stuff seems to make time pass slower (kids think it takes forever to age a year, where as old folks think it takes a mere blink).

Since moving, I have had to learn people's names, directions to places, technical stuff on our equipment, computer systems, policies, laws protecting employees, fixing houses, remodeling houses, Japanese, Computer Aided Design, the Pittsburgh accent, criminal law, tons and tons of stuff. On the other hand, I wasn't doing much fresh new learning at DuPont, and hadn't in a long, long time.

The last time I was learning tons of stuff in Delaware was while I was dealing with Luke. Everyday was an adventure. That year did not pass quickly. Still, I preferred it over having to go to DuPont everyday. On the other hand, I DON'T prefer those days to my days here in the Pitt.

So, looking back, I made an EXCELLENT decision to leave DuPont. I'm happy here. Things have worked out well. These are my kind of people out here, and it doesn't hurt that DuPont is paying my pension plus Incapability supplement.

A Child's Point-of-View

2008-03-23T22:43:00.002-05:00

You know how little kids think they are the only ones who get older? They say things like, "When I'm older, I'm going to babysit YOU." (I thought that when I was 3 and my mean sister Mert was 8 babysitting me and doing things I didn't like... I was telling her I was going to get back at her when I was 8... and she was 8).

In a twit's brain they only perceive what is happening to them. Everything else stays the same.

Well, I've had this weird phenomena happening in my noggin, too. When I am working on fixing up my house I'll nostalgically think back to my house in Delaware. If it's interesting enough, I'll want to know how that particular thing is doing since I left... something I planted or something I fixed, whatever.

You know what my brain says to me? It tells me to calls Reds and ask him! In my brain Reds is still living in my house. He is still dealing with my cancer doctors and the hospital. That part of the world never changed, except I left.

Freaky, eh? I talk to Reds a lot. He often tells me stories that clearly indicate he is in his own home in Houston. Yet my brain does not absorb that.

The world of visiting nurses, blood samples, train rides for platelets, and eating home cooked meals lives on in my mind. That is Delaware. That was what I left. I still imagine Reds has all my furniture in that world, too, which ought to kick me back to reality if I'm actually sitting on the furniture I am imagining him sitting on.... but it doesn't... (doesn't it make you feel good knowing I'm designing safety equipement to save the world from nuclear meltdowns???)

Chemo-brain "Uh" persists

2008-03-23T22:28:00.002-05:00

After my first chemo treatment I noticed a sharp decline in my mental capacity. I had to read a sentence over and over to grasp its meaning, and sometimes return to the beginning of a paragraph after reading each sentence many times over the first time through. It was bad. Very bad.

That is when I first noticed my saying, "Uh." The word was a place holder as I went searching in the filing room of my brain looking for the word I was missing. During those months of chemo treatment it was frustrating, but I was never as bad off as the first chemo-treatment.

Mid-treatment I had to give a public talk (presenting to my woodworking guild the project I made). I was horrified to find myself saying, "Uh" EVERY OTHER WORD. And this was on a project that I knew everything about... I made it after all.

I got better, of course. I still recognize I lose a word and it takes me a while to retrieve it. Simple words, too. Not fancy engineering terms. Words like "agreement" or something mundane like that.

The first fancy presentation I had to make at work since almost dying in 2005, was here in my new job. It was on a topic I knew nothing about and I had researched it the night before. It was a dry run a month before the big show, so no big deal. I said "uh" EVERY OTHER WORD. I was back to being brain-poisoned! I told myself that it was a new topic and anyone would say, "uh."

I practiced and practiced. When I would say it out loud in practice I'd say, "uh." I focused on not saying "uh." I figured being silent was better than using "uh" as a placeholder. It worked.

Back at work after the presentation, after having made myself so conscience of my use of "uh," I became painfully aware of just how often "uh" leaps to my lips. I hate it; I hate it; I hate it.

I always tell people who ask how I've been since my leukemia treatment, "It's like it never happened." Except for a few things things it is very true. The one thing that reminds me EVERY SINGLE day is my "uh."

I should embrace my "uh," and tell myself it is my badge of survivorship. Every time I say "uh" it reminds me of all my friends I knew who died, and all their families who live without them. I kind of like that. My "uh" is a "Yo!" to all my fallen friends.

I'll still try not to say it, but at least my "uh" will have a purpose other than annoying me.

Tora! Tora! Tora!

2008-03-23T22:00:00.005-05:00

This week has been Spring Break for the college classes I am taking. (Good thing, too, with that report due I probably would have missed both classes as I worked into the night.)

I have been listening to those Japanese cd's like crazy. I bit of what seems like a miracle occurred. The long, quickly spoken phrases on those tapes when from

Du*^%$ yo$&*~kuh awny *&%$@ ~^%

to

Dozo yo&%$#*ke one*&^%$mas

to

Dozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu

The first time you hear a phrase like this, you're like, you have got to be kidding me. I have no idea what you just said, let alone how to make my mouth say it. Then you hear it again, and again. You hear some bits that you just say the bits and mumble until you hit another bit you recognize. After the sixth time (usually it takes 6 times, really) you not only know what they said, how to say it, but what it means. These cds are really incredible!!!

It surprises me every time, too. I'll listen to a cd 6 time and have the whole thing memorized, so I move to the next cd, only to have cold water dumped on me. I can't believe how fast they are talking and that I can't understand a word. I assume the first cd was just the easy stuff. But sure enough, after the sixth listening, I have it all down pat. I can't believe what our brains are capable of doing!!! Jibberish to complete sentences in a week. Whoa. Imagine if you were as smart as some of these geniuses walking the Earth that get it the first time! Wow!

Being on Spring Break, I've taken a break from non-stop listening to my cd's. My brain has been mushy with all the over-time I've been putting in at work and I've been too overloaded to tax my brain any further. However, to keep up with my Japanese exposure I watched the movie "Tora! Tora! Tora!" about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. All the Japanese portions of the film are spoken in Japanese. I couldn't believe it! I understood bits and pieces throughout the show!!! I know a lot of polite sayings, so you can imagine I recognized a lot when sailors were speaking to their commanders.

I had seen this movie before, but with the bit of Japanese knowledge I have, it was SOOOOOOOO much better. It didn't change the ending though...