Monday, March 27, 2006

Is it bulimia if you only do it once?

I have just had one of the most memorable weekends I've had for awhile. Ken and I attended a Swanky Wedding in Chicago. It was on the northshore, and included: gift baskets for hotel guests, passed hordeurves while waiting in line to see the bride and groom, monogrammed towels in the bathroom, an open bar, personalized mini champagne bottles that doubled as place cards, waiters with white gloves, a five-piece band that sang during the four-course, sit-down dinner, and a reception with over three hundred guests. I have no idea how much the whole thing cost, but I would not be surprised to find out it was more than my annual salary. The whole affair was made bearable because the families involved are family-oriented, caring, genuinely nice people. The bride made me feel like she was glad I came when she doesn't even know me, and the mother of the bride made it a point to tell me the following morning that everyone had such a nice time dancing with me (which I think is polite-speak for "fucking slut, dirty-dancing with strangers for two hours", but whatever. I love to dance and I had a great time. So what if I'm remembered as the "crazy dance chick" at all their family functions for the next ten years?).

The downer for the weekend? Ken contracted food poisoning, probably from Staph aureus on some salmon he had for lunch. I have never heard anyone be so violently sick before, and I hope never to hear it again. Cleaning up projectile vomit is no fun, but my job makes my stomach stronger than most, so I was able to deal.

I've thought alot about success and money and love over the past few days. I won't make six figures in the foreseeable future, and I can't fathom having a second home. I'm 31 and I don't have my first million in the bank. Does that make me less of a person? Doesn't loving my job and helping save lives count for anything? Would I love my husband more if he brought home more bacon? Is spending my free time pounding on computer keys in the hopes the stories I produce move people in someway a big fat waste of time? The answers I came up with are: no, yes, no (but I'd dress better) and hell no. Take that for what you will.

Monday, March 20, 2006

the saga continues

So, the dumbass camera people sent us the wrong charger. Fuckers. Allegedly they're sending us the right one. Yeah, whatever. Saturday I bought a universal charger for the fucking thing, so Sunday I got to play with my new toy. It looks like it takes great pictures. I haven't downloaded any yet, mostly been playing with settings and such. Now I totally want to go for a drive or go on vacation and take pictures of Ken and I in America. We're going to a wedding in Chicago on Saturday so that will have to do. Turns out Kahlua is a camera hog--whenever I point the camera at one of the other kitties he walked right in front of the lens. What a ham.

Writing is going well. I've started on the three wizard story. I've decided this time to go sort of off-line with it. I've written an outline, but I don't really like it, so I think I'm just going to write the characters for awhile and see where they take me. It might end up crappy, but whatever. That's what rewritting is for. I'm also working on a submission to a dark humor anthology. It's a satirical take on a futuristic "Survivor" type of reality television program. I'm a self-professed Survivor geek, so I'm having fun with it. Deadline's not until the end of May but I'd really like to get it done in a month or so. Having two projects going at once is kind of nice--if one isn't working for me today, the other one will, so it's easier to get a few pages of something done each day.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

ain't technology grand?

Ken has finally fulfilled a deep-seated desire: he's hooked up wireless internet in our house. Currently I'm camped out on the couch upstairs while I cruise the information highway, and I gotta say I love it.

I can't say so much for my new digital camera ...

We ordered this kick-ass Panasonic Lumix camera three weeks ago. After some headaches, we finally received it, except it's missing the battery charger. Which means we currently have a kick-ass Panasonic Lumix paperweight. The company we bought it from is supposed to be fed-exing us a charger, and it should be here Wednesday. Fuckers. This is what we get for researching cameras and buying the one we thought was best instead of buying blindly off the shelf. It'll be worth the wait, hopefully, but what a pain in the ass. Hopefully soon I'll be able to dazzle you all with pictures of kitties.

Springtime weather today! Ken and I went to Lowe's--the mecca of suburban married couples everywhere--and bought some lawn goodies. We drooled over the seeds for our vegetable garden but decided that we needed a plan this year instead of planting things willy-nilly. Knowing my husband, he'll break out the ruler to make a map of the ideal garden. He's such an organizer. More like he likes for things to be organized without actually organizing anything. He delegates. I ignore. It's a system that works well for us.

Last night we played poker. Ken was first out, and I came in third. I should have won--I had the chip lead for most of the night--but when it got down to three I pulled a bonehead move. I had a pair of fives, but decided to bet big so I could push my opponet around with my chip stack. She pushed all in. I easily had her covered, and my first instinct was that she was bluffing--trying to call my bluff with a bluff of her own. I called, and she fucking flips over a straight. I lost something like $15 in that hand. That loss made the three of us remaining about evenly matched. Usually if I lose a big hand like that, I get scared off of betting, and last night was no exception. I finally go fed up and went all-in with a A-Q. Lost to a pair of kings. I was so pissed off at myself for making the bonehead move. I'm still a little bitter. Not that I lost, but that I made a bad decision. Losing I can handle, as long as I played a good game. I'm the same way at work--I can handle screwing up if it's something I maybe didn't know before, or if I made the best decision I could with the information I had. If I screw up and I should have really known better, it'll bother me for days.

Friday, March 03, 2006


I just finished reading Stephen King's "Cell". I want to preface my review with this: during my formative years, King was my idol. I was in junior high school when my dad lent me his copy of "Christine", and I didn't look back. For years my all-time favorite non-series book was "The Stand" (it has only recently been replaced by "The Genesis Code"). While I haven't read every single word the man's written, I'm pretty damn close. So maybe my expectations are a tad high. I didn't like "Cell", though. It had a great concept, great suspense, good characters, and some parts really made me think. The ending, however, was terrible. And there was a little bit of gore, but not much. Sometimes I wonder if King's gone soft in his old age.

Maybe I'm more critical because I'm older, or because I'm so critical of my own writing. I have noticed that in the past few years I've become a more discerning reader. That's a good thing, I think, because it makes my own writing better. It makes it harder to enjoy reading, though. Hazard of the job, I guess.

Speaking of jobs, micro is going well. I've begun training on Acid Fast cultures (that's tuberculosis for you civilians) and next week I'll start on strep and respiratory cultures. A few days ago I worked with organisms that could potentially kill me. Jealous?