Now that I'm here in Florida, I pay a little closer attention to hurricanes. I did when my Dad first moved down here -- but now that my stuff could be blown all over hell's half-acre, I am a bit more interested in them.
I'm working on a grant. Specifically it is for emergency management in our collegiate high schools. I was asked by our grant partner if I had any instances of us using an emergency managment grant and the only thing I could think of was Hurricane Charley.
Hurricane Charley was a 2004 storm that was headed for Tampa when it decided to make a sharp right turn over Pine Island and lay waste to Punta Gorda/Port Charlotte. I remember it vaguely, as I was visiting my dad a year later and saw the devastation (trees, rubble, light poles bent in half, etc.). I didn't live it though, so my appreciation was more on the level of "Holy Crap."
I asked our Charlotte campus president for information regarding how Hurricane Charley affected our Charlotte campus, as well as the personnel of it.
What I received made my eyes tear up -- just at the thoughts of total loss.
I emailed back, thanking her for the documents and telling her I began to appreciate what a hurricane does to an area in a way I had not appreciated before. She replied back, telling me that her admin assistant was in tears compiling it for me.
Five. Years. Later.
I feel like an ass, a heel, a fool and the worst kind of gawker, knowing that I caused her pain even after all this time. So the next time you hear of a hurricane, say a prayer for all those involved, as even five years later is too fresh for many.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Looking back.
Before I was married, I had a cute little house in a cute little neighborhood in Indianapolis. It was a two bedroom, one bath bungalow. Good size basement for my glasswork, nice finished attic for a spare bedroom/storage. Former carriage house turned into a garage -- fenced yard, brick carport. It was mine and it was just a complete slice of heaven.
In this little house, I used to host a party every Valentine's weekend for friends. Specifically single friends, as I found that most of us needed an excuse to not wallow in our own self-pity (or, well, I needed an excuse not to wallow). Guests were asked to bring a bottle of wine, while I made dinner. Generally a big salad, a lasagne or two and some sort of dessert. It was work, no doubt, but always made those Valentines Days a little better, or at least, a little more hungover :)
Some of my best memories involve friends, laughter and fun -- but perhaps the most striking one in my memory is when I invited a guy I'd been dating (NOT seriously -- like we'd been out on two dates, maybe), as well as a coworker. What I didn't know then was that he was dating both me and the coworker and hadn't bothered to share that information with either of us.
Well.
That made for a most interesting evening, as he attempted to avoid both of us in this tiny little house. Unfortunately for me, I ended up getting food poisoning from my lunch that day (part of my preparation always included lunch out for me, since I was cooking all day, I wasn't making my own lunch too), and he thought that the reason I was sick was because he was dating my coworker. Talk about ego! You might imagine (correctly) that both I and my coworker dropped him like a hot rock after that night, so Mr. Stud Muffin was left to date no one.
Most mornings-after the party found various sleeping people all over my house due to the excessive amount of alcohol consumed. Although guests were asked to bring one bottle of wine, most brought two, and two bottles per person = big drunken fun times.
Ah, the "cupid's got a bad aim" parties. Miss 'em.
In this little house, I used to host a party every Valentine's weekend for friends. Specifically single friends, as I found that most of us needed an excuse to not wallow in our own self-pity (or, well, I needed an excuse not to wallow). Guests were asked to bring a bottle of wine, while I made dinner. Generally a big salad, a lasagne or two and some sort of dessert. It was work, no doubt, but always made those Valentines Days a little better, or at least, a little more hungover :)
Some of my best memories involve friends, laughter and fun -- but perhaps the most striking one in my memory is when I invited a guy I'd been dating (NOT seriously -- like we'd been out on two dates, maybe), as well as a coworker. What I didn't know then was that he was dating both me and the coworker and hadn't bothered to share that information with either of us.
Well.
That made for a most interesting evening, as he attempted to avoid both of us in this tiny little house. Unfortunately for me, I ended up getting food poisoning from my lunch that day (part of my preparation always included lunch out for me, since I was cooking all day, I wasn't making my own lunch too), and he thought that the reason I was sick was because he was dating my coworker. Talk about ego! You might imagine (correctly) that both I and my coworker dropped him like a hot rock after that night, so Mr. Stud Muffin was left to date no one.
Most mornings-after the party found various sleeping people all over my house due to the excessive amount of alcohol consumed. Although guests were asked to bring one bottle of wine, most brought two, and two bottles per person = big drunken fun times.
Ah, the "cupid's got a bad aim" parties. Miss 'em.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Potluck of the Damned.
as in, damned if you do, damned if you don't.
This Friday is a potluck/pitch-in at work. Various people are bringing various things. I volunteered to pick up all the paper products as well as beverages, then collect money from the directors for the purchase of such. Seems reasonable, yes?
Oh Fucking No It Is Not.
There is an administrative assistant that is riding my ass as if I have been saddled. Every day, a stop by, an email or a phone call (or a combination of the three) on my progress. Apparently I am her personal bitch. I have taken to saying that I'm gonna call (administrative assistant) on so and so unless this is done, because clearly in the reporting structure, it is my job to call her with an update.
I may go batshit.
Mary is, of course, enjoying the living hell out of this. She loves to torture me. The initial plan was a potluck. Somehow it has now morphed into a (gag me) Valentine's theme. So now Mary emails me every few hours to tell me it is now a costume party, no, a luau, etc etc.
She better be nice or I'm sic'ing the administrative assistant on her.
This Friday is a potluck/pitch-in at work. Various people are bringing various things. I volunteered to pick up all the paper products as well as beverages, then collect money from the directors for the purchase of such. Seems reasonable, yes?
Oh Fucking No It Is Not.
There is an administrative assistant that is riding my ass as if I have been saddled. Every day, a stop by, an email or a phone call (or a combination of the three) on my progress. Apparently I am her personal bitch. I have taken to saying that I'm gonna call (administrative assistant) on so and so unless this is done, because clearly in the reporting structure, it is my job to call her with an update.
I may go batshit.
Mary is, of course, enjoying the living hell out of this. She loves to torture me. The initial plan was a potluck. Somehow it has now morphed into a (gag me) Valentine's theme. So now Mary emails me every few hours to tell me it is now a costume party, no, a luau, etc etc.
She better be nice or I'm sic'ing the administrative assistant on her.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Thoughts from today ...
Tonight I had dinner out at one of my favorite places, the Mona Lisa. I saw the owner, Joe, had some laughs with him and generally enjoyed myself. I was seated next to a couple who were on their second trip to the ML and next to them was a single guy who was on his first trip to the ML. After the couple left, he and I began chatting about this and that. He recently relocated from NJ, likes it here so far but is trying to meet new people. I ended up giving him my card, told him to call me if he wanted to meet for dinner. I'd guess him in his early-mid 40s, which has generally been my age group for dating. Seems nice, time will tell.
Also tonight -- talked to Jason. Basically Superbowl recap, plus some regular bs'ing. It was good to talk to him.
Busy day tomorrow -- trip to Collier County for a meeting and Zumba tomorrow night.
Also tonight -- talked to Jason. Basically Superbowl recap, plus some regular bs'ing. It was good to talk to him.
Busy day tomorrow -- trip to Collier County for a meeting and Zumba tomorrow night.
Life.
Colts. sigh.
Talked to the Marine yesterday twice ... once at 6:27 a.m. (when he woke me up) and once at midnight last night (when he woke me up again). Just BS talk about the Colts, life, dating, etc. I love to tease him about his sheets, his house, his life and his penchant for dating the young'uns. He loves to jerk my chain about nearly everything in my life. I am an easy target, what can I say? He seems to be doing well, might want to change careers and definitely wants to rid his house of roommates. I gave him some advice, we laughed, it was all good. I had to tease him last night tho -- when he woke me up for the second time in 24 hours -- I told him that I generally only like wake ups twice in one day by someone I'm sleeping with, and since he isn't and we're not, he owes me.
Finally shutting the door on someone I should have a while back. Feelings are a hard thing to deal with -- and sometimes some real quality time is spent sorting through those feelings to determine the best course of action. For me, that best course is letting go, accepting and moving on.
Mom arrives this Friday -- for about ten days. She is totally excited (as am I) and is looking forward to some days in the sunshine. I'm not sure what days I'll be taking off yet, but I'm working that out now.
Need to refocus on taxes, application to grad school. Double sigh.
Talked to the Marine yesterday twice ... once at 6:27 a.m. (when he woke me up) and once at midnight last night (when he woke me up again). Just BS talk about the Colts, life, dating, etc. I love to tease him about his sheets, his house, his life and his penchant for dating the young'uns. He loves to jerk my chain about nearly everything in my life. I am an easy target, what can I say? He seems to be doing well, might want to change careers and definitely wants to rid his house of roommates. I gave him some advice, we laughed, it was all good. I had to tease him last night tho -- when he woke me up for the second time in 24 hours -- I told him that I generally only like wake ups twice in one day by someone I'm sleeping with, and since he isn't and we're not, he owes me.
Finally shutting the door on someone I should have a while back. Feelings are a hard thing to deal with -- and sometimes some real quality time is spent sorting through those feelings to determine the best course of action. For me, that best course is letting go, accepting and moving on.
Mom arrives this Friday -- for about ten days. She is totally excited (as am I) and is looking forward to some days in the sunshine. I'm not sure what days I'll be taking off yet, but I'm working that out now.
Need to refocus on taxes, application to grad school. Double sigh.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
If only ignorance were a disease.
I would hope that a cure can be found.
I definitely get cranky when I see legislation that prevents same-sex couples from the same level of civil rights as married couples have.
Yes, I said Civil Rights.
I do believe that same-sex marriage is a civil rights matter, and here's why:
I definitely get cranky when I see legislation that prevents same-sex couples from the same level of civil rights as married couples have.
Yes, I said Civil Rights.
I do believe that same-sex marriage is a civil rights matter, and here's why:
- Marriage is not a predominately religious institution. Judges, lawyers, justices of the peace and even city/town officials can "officiate" a marriage.
- The status of "marriage" as a civil institution, affords benefits in:
- health care
- end of life decisions
- tax benefits
- financial benefits (applying for a mortgage, car loan, etc)
- custody disputes
- transfer of property
- Marriage licenses are issued by the state, not by churches, religious bodies or clergy.
- Marriage versus Civil Union is one of semantics. If we are to separate the two, I recommend "Marriage" for those unions performed by clergy and completed in a church/temple/mosque/house of worshiop. Civil Union for all other partnerships.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Weekend is Wide Open
Not real sure what I'll be doing this weekend.
I *need* to get my taxes together (but that sucks), get the house ready for Mom's arrival on Friday (but that sucks) and generally do a trash run around here (but that sucks).
Oh, and the ever-present, never-ending, always-growing pile o'laundry. I truly need a houseboy/cabana boy.
How useful would it be to have someone do my laundry, pick up my house, do my shitwork for me while I'm at work, so I can come home and just take a moment to relax. Wow. Now I'm thinking like a 1950s suburban dad. Dear Lord. This blog has come off the rails.
***********
In family news, it appears that my cousin's wife has yet again gone off her meds for bipolar disorder. This is not good news, friends, as they have two very young children. Oy.
In other family news, my great-uncle Glenn passed away this past Sunday night. He and my Aunt Vera were married for 65 years. He's suffered from alzheimers for a few years now, so it is nice to think he is at peace. Godspeed, Uncle Glenn.
************
Not much else to report, I'm just living as me.
I *need* to get my taxes together (but that sucks), get the house ready for Mom's arrival on Friday (but that sucks) and generally do a trash run around here (but that sucks).
Oh, and the ever-present, never-ending, always-growing pile o'laundry. I truly need a houseboy/cabana boy.
How useful would it be to have someone do my laundry, pick up my house, do my shitwork for me while I'm at work, so I can come home and just take a moment to relax. Wow. Now I'm thinking like a 1950s suburban dad. Dear Lord. This blog has come off the rails.
***********
In family news, it appears that my cousin's wife has yet again gone off her meds for bipolar disorder. This is not good news, friends, as they have two very young children. Oy.
In other family news, my great-uncle Glenn passed away this past Sunday night. He and my Aunt Vera were married for 65 years. He's suffered from alzheimers for a few years now, so it is nice to think he is at peace. Godspeed, Uncle Glenn.
************
Not much else to report, I'm just living as me.
Back in FM
Good people, I'm about to tell the dirty, filthy truth about the state capitol of Florida.
It belongs in Georgia or Alabama, and I don't care which.
It is 6.5-7 long hours from Fort Myers. For you Hoosiers, picture the state capitol in New Albany -- and you (and the rest of the far-more-populous areas) live in South Bend. Now, picture New Albany an hour further south -- and you get the picture.
The panhandle of Florida isn't really Florida-like. No palms. Lots of deciduous trees and pines.
Give it back to Georgia or Alabama. Doesn't matter which. Move Florida's state capitol to somewhere mid-state -- like Orlando. Let that place be known for more than RatWorld.
As far as state capitols go (and I've been in my fair share) -- Tallahassee isn't good enough to be in their numbers.
It belongs in Georgia or Alabama, and I don't care which.
It is 6.5-7 long hours from Fort Myers. For you Hoosiers, picture the state capitol in New Albany -- and you (and the rest of the far-more-populous areas) live in South Bend. Now, picture New Albany an hour further south -- and you get the picture.
The panhandle of Florida isn't really Florida-like. No palms. Lots of deciduous trees and pines.
Give it back to Georgia or Alabama. Doesn't matter which. Move Florida's state capitol to somewhere mid-state -- like Orlando. Let that place be known for more than RatWorld.
As far as state capitols go (and I've been in my fair share) -- Tallahassee isn't good enough to be in their numbers.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I'm Crass.
I might as well admit it out loud. I am.
I'm here in Tallahassee at a conference. Tally is about 7 hours from FM, way up in the Panhandle of Florida. It is super boonie-land up here, really reminds me of southern Indiana in many ways. In fact, I-10, which runs the panhandle, looks a whole lot like I-64 in southern Indiana.
But I digress.
As much as I love hotels -- someone else to make my bed mmm mmm mmm -- I also hate them. I hate the paper thin walls. The petty annoyances of those around me just grate on my nerves.
Last night.
Up later than I would normally be, after having my mind blown by LOST. So there I am, trying to fall asleep while the room on the left of me is obviously having a conversation with someone in ANOTHER STATE as she is so damn loud, while the guy on the right of me is playing the TV at approximately 3 million decibels. All this at midnight.
So how does this relate to me being crass?
Well. Here we go. Ugly truths about Athena.
I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. This noise level has gone on since 10 or so. I didn't mind while LOST was on (as I was concentrating) but at midnight?
So I had some beers last night. And beers make me gassy. I would generally try not to release my gas in a grotesque or unpleasant manner, generally trying to either go into a restroom or hold it. Even when I'm alone, I'm not big on behaving like a boor.
Last night I didn't hold back. AND IT WAS SUPER DUPER CATASTROPHICALLY LOUD. Think Elephant trumpet. Times 10.
All the sudden, both rooms quieted down. And I fell asleep. Crass, crass me.
I'm here in Tallahassee at a conference. Tally is about 7 hours from FM, way up in the Panhandle of Florida. It is super boonie-land up here, really reminds me of southern Indiana in many ways. In fact, I-10, which runs the panhandle, looks a whole lot like I-64 in southern Indiana.
But I digress.
As much as I love hotels -- someone else to make my bed mmm mmm mmm -- I also hate them. I hate the paper thin walls. The petty annoyances of those around me just grate on my nerves.
Last night.
Up later than I would normally be, after having my mind blown by LOST. So there I am, trying to fall asleep while the room on the left of me is obviously having a conversation with someone in ANOTHER STATE as she is so damn loud, while the guy on the right of me is playing the TV at approximately 3 million decibels. All this at midnight.
So how does this relate to me being crass?
Well. Here we go. Ugly truths about Athena.
I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. This noise level has gone on since 10 or so. I didn't mind while LOST was on (as I was concentrating) but at midnight?
So I had some beers last night. And beers make me gassy. I would generally try not to release my gas in a grotesque or unpleasant manner, generally trying to either go into a restroom or hold it. Even when I'm alone, I'm not big on behaving like a boor.
Last night I didn't hold back. AND IT WAS SUPER DUPER CATASTROPHICALLY LOUD. Think Elephant trumpet. Times 10.
All the sudden, both rooms quieted down. And I fell asleep. Crass, crass me.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Time keeps slipping away.
Last week I lost an old friend of mine, Robby Ross. I'm sure he would have probably laughed at me calling him Robby, but when you know someone from 3rd grade on, some names just don't change.
We lost track of each other after HS, as I have with so many people I knew from "back then." It is weird, sometimes, how memories float to the top after realizing what is lost.
We kissed, once, back in 6th grade or so. A game of Spin the Bottle, no less, at my friend Tricia's house. It was a slumber party at her house and of course, what fun is it in small town America if boys can't crash a slumber party. I couldn't tell you if I kissed anyone else that night, but here are two things I remember: he had super soft lips and he was good at kissing, even then. To tell the truth, if I look back, he was probably among the top 10 kisses I've ever had. It was soft, it was sweet and it had just the amount of pressure to it to let you know that he kissed me because he *wanted* to, not just because the bottle happened to point at us both.
He was also the first guy I ever remember wearing a Megadeath and Metallica t-shirt. I had no idea (at the time) what these names meant, only that Robby seemed to like them.
Peace be with you friend. I'm glad your suffering has ended. See you later ...
Robert J. Ross Oct. 9, 1973 - Jan. 26, 2010
NEW CARLISLE - Robert J. Ross, 36, of New Carlisle, IN, passed away Tuesday, January 26, 2010, at Northwestern Hospital in Chicago, IL. Robert was born October 9, 1973, in LaPorte, IN to the late Robert and Carol (Ross) Ross. Robert is survived by his wife, Susan, a sister, Rhonda (Dennis) Wilson of Rolling Prairie, IN and children; Douglas (Jamie) Brasseur of Kingsbury, IN, Bethanne (Dale) Howard of LaPorte, IN, Kathryn (John) Brasseur of New Carlisle, IN; five grandchildren; Maggie, Ryan, Lyla, Nathan, and Austin, many aunts, uncles, cousins and lots of good friends. He was employed as a mechanic with Summer Song in South Bend, IN, and K-Fex Excavating & Trucking in New Carlisle, IN. Visitation for Robert will be from 2-8 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time), Sunday, January 31, 2010, at the Kaniewski Funeral Home, 3545 Bendix Drive, South Bend, Indiana. Funeral services will be at 1 p.m. (E.S.T.), Monday, February 1, 2010, at the Kaniewski Funeral Home. Entombment will follow in Riverview Cemetery, South Bend, Indiana. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Shriner's Children's Hospital, 2211 N. Oak Park Avenue, Chicago, IL 60607 or Riley Children's Foundation c/o Epilepsy Research, 30 S. Meridian Street, Indianapolis, IN 46204.
We lost track of each other after HS, as I have with so many people I knew from "back then." It is weird, sometimes, how memories float to the top after realizing what is lost.
We kissed, once, back in 6th grade or so. A game of Spin the Bottle, no less, at my friend Tricia's house. It was a slumber party at her house and of course, what fun is it in small town America if boys can't crash a slumber party. I couldn't tell you if I kissed anyone else that night, but here are two things I remember: he had super soft lips and he was good at kissing, even then. To tell the truth, if I look back, he was probably among the top 10 kisses I've ever had. It was soft, it was sweet and it had just the amount of pressure to it to let you know that he kissed me because he *wanted* to, not just because the bottle happened to point at us both.
He was also the first guy I ever remember wearing a Megadeath and Metallica t-shirt. I had no idea (at the time) what these names meant, only that Robby seemed to like them.
Peace be with you friend. I'm glad your suffering has ended. See you later ...
Robert J. Ross Oct. 9, 1973 - Jan. 26, 2010
NEW CARLISLE - Robert J. Ross, 36, of New Carlisle, IN, passed away Tuesday, January 26, 2010, at Northwestern Hospital in Chicago, IL. Robert was born October 9, 1973, in LaPorte, IN to the late Robert and Carol (Ross) Ross. Robert is survived by his wife, Susan, a sister, Rhonda (Dennis) Wilson of Rolling Prairie, IN and children; Douglas (Jamie) Brasseur of Kingsbury, IN, Bethanne (Dale) Howard of LaPorte, IN, Kathryn (John) Brasseur of New Carlisle, IN; five grandchildren; Maggie, Ryan, Lyla, Nathan, and Austin, many aunts, uncles, cousins and lots of good friends. He was employed as a mechanic with Summer Song in South Bend, IN, and K-Fex Excavating & Trucking in New Carlisle, IN. Visitation for Robert will be from 2-8 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time), Sunday, January 31, 2010, at the Kaniewski Funeral Home, 3545 Bendix Drive, South Bend, Indiana. Funeral services will be at 1 p.m. (E.S.T.), Monday, February 1, 2010, at the Kaniewski Funeral Home. Entombment will follow in Riverview Cemetery, South Bend, Indiana. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Shriner's Children's Hospital, 2211 N. Oak Park Avenue, Chicago, IL 60607 or Riley Children's Foundation c/o Epilepsy Research, 30 S. Meridian Street, Indianapolis, IN 46204.
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