A quiet place to rest

Yesterday at work I had a meeting in a nearby building. I decided to be all eco-friendly and stuff and walk over.

As I toodled along, I was surprised to come across this:

I found it…peculiar.

It’s a nice cement bench with detailed Fish and Wildlife stuff about the “creek” that lay there in view of the bench (behind the, uh, chain link fence).

Here’s an unobstructed view of the “creek” from a small bridge.

(yes, the quotes around “creek” are on purpose)

Folks, where I come from, we call that an arroyo.

And we don’t sit by it and watch the weeds grow. We just don’t.

Is this like the LA river, where, to quote Wikipedia: “For most of its length, it flows through a narrow concrete channel?”

Does something that flows through a concrete channel really qualify as a river (or creek)?

I found it strange, on this walk, to find one random bench with a view of…a weed filled arroyo.

Truth really is stranger than fiction.

Photos by Karen Fayeth and her trusty iPhone

Y-y-y-y-y-ou w-w-w-wanna k-k-k-know w-w-what’s e-e-e-vil?

This. This is what is evil:

That there is one each vanilla flavored iced coffee from McDonald’s.

So, you know, I’m really not a McD’s fan. I won’t eat their food. Blech!

But recently SOMEONE, who shall remain nameless (and has the initials TGM) got me hooked on McD’s sweet tea.

Damn, that stuff is good. Addictive too. Crack tea, we call it.

So this morning, in need of a “little something” to get the day started, I rolled through the drive through and decided to try an iced coffee.

I ordered a “large” thinking in Starbuck’s sizes, and was SHOCKED when they handed this bucket of liquid out the window to me. It takes two hands to keep it steady!

So as I drove to work, I began sipping away at this beast.

You can see how much I had. Less than a third of the cup and suddenly the jitters set in.

I’ll admit that I’m more sensitive than most to caffeine, but DAMN.

I had to put this into the fridge at work. If I drank the whole thing they’d have to hospitalize me!

It’s tasty, I’ll give ’em that, but not as addictive as the tea.

Fair enough, I tried the c-c-c-c-c-coffee. It should come with a prescription and a warning label!

: jitter :

Positively Tarty!

Sometimes, the good guys can get ahead. But only sometimes.

Last week, I had occasion to work with someone at my company who I have a lot of respect and admiration for.

Long story short, my friend needed help. He’d gone and done something that is not *quite* in line with all the fun policies and procedures we have, and he knew it.

So he came to me. The Fixer.

And I did. Fix it, that is. I fixed it by taking a rash of sh– from a variety of Director-types. I knew the level and intensity of the sh– I’d receive, and was willing to take it. I pled the case and won.

But that’s really only backstory…

Turns out my friend is classier than I ever gave him credit for (he IS an engineer, afterall), and so Tuesday morning, this arrived on my desk.

Pretty, huh? I think so. I like the vase a LOT.

So upon receipt, I quickly scooped the flowers off my desk and ran to my boss’ office to show her the *gratitude* I’d received from a client team. I got proper ooh’s and ahh’s in return.

I also ran into my Director in the hallway who said, “Oh, are those from The Good Man?”

“Nope!” I replied quickly and explained the gift. She was also *very* impressed.

heh.

But that’s still not the point.

You’ll note in the photo that this arrangement has several large lilies.

I do love lilies.

They smell divine, they really do.

But now, here we get to the point of this rambling blog post.

I recently read a book by a lady named Cathryn Michon. The book was a mostly autobiographical telling of the horrors of her recent love life. It was a mostly throwaway book, but had a few good laughs.

One part, appropo of nothing, she was talking about being in a high level meeting and noticing a flower arrangement. She made a comment along the lines of how flowers are basically natures little oversexed organisms, what with all the throbbing pistols and yearning stamens.

I had a pretty good laugh at that when I read it. Tis true.

This was brought to mind again with these flowers sitting here on my desk.

The part that makes them smell so heavenly is the, ahem, rigid glistening stamen.

I mean, look at this thing!

SCANDALOUS! Right here at *work* even!

I have an austere Russian friend who once I witnessed going into a huge bouquet of Stargazer Lillies and unceremoniously ripping the pollen caked centers out of all of them. I think I actually winced.

Free love for flowers!
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(editors note: yes, I know, any writing instructor would advise students to HAVE A POINT when they write something. Much like fixing my friend’s breach of the rules, I’m willing to take the grief for breaking the rules for good writing. The joys of blogdom…)

Welcome to my hell

From Wednesday’s ABQjournal:

“LOS LUNAS — Thieves ripped off a 300-foot section of copper phone line in Valencia County, knocking out service to more than 500 Qwest customers.

The Valencia County Sheriff’s Department says the line, worth $75,000, was stolen late Monday night.

Qwest workers spent the next day restoring service to the customers.

Deputies say the thieves likely stole the copper to support drug habits.

The wholesale price of copper is about $3 a pound.”
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You should see what they are getting for stolen fiber. The theft of both copper and fiber has been a pain in the tookus for those of us who work with, near, around, kinda close to, the telecom industry.

Especially if…oh say, you have a c-level executive who wants fast network at his house and you and your IT team move heaven and earth to get the fiber to the properly line..and while waiting for said c-level guy to get a trench dug to his house…the fiber is stolen…all hypothetically, *of course*…

A local assemblywoman has decided she’s going to clear this up by passing a bill to put stern limits on recycling.

Scratch yer head a minute on that one, whydoncha.

Ok, my head hurts. It’s been a long week. Happy Weekending everyone!

Monday, Monday

Can’t trust that day.

Another Monday in the life after a quick yet faboo weekend. It’s always hard to come back to work after a short two days away from work.

Hard to find my groove again.

The oppressive heat isn’t helping with the whole “groove” thang either. It’s hot here. Really, gaggingly hot.

And for my New Mexico readers who say, “Ah c’mon, you are a desert girl. It’s not THAT hot!” may I remind you that…I have NO AIR CONDITIONING.

None.

Zilch.

Zip.

Nada.

The jokesters here in the Bay Area are all like “ooooh, there’s foooog. It’s ‘nature’s air conditioning’ you don’t need anything else.”

To them I sah “bah!”

At least my car has working a/c and my office…well, my office is *too* well air-conditioned. There are icicles hanging off my cubicle walls.

I wear a sweater all day only to come home to a sweat box (I swear, The Good Man, the Feline and I all could go on a Native American spiritual journey in there). That can’t be healthy.

I actually prefer to be hot. But right now my freezing hands are wrapped around a cup of hot tea while I wear a thick sweater.

And I’m *sure* keeping a two story office building at meat locker temperature isn’t wasting energy at ALL!

Can’t we just clack the movie marker and start this one again?

Ready? Action!