I think I found something else that I want to do on my trip to Seattle, though this is something that will be done while I'm there, rather than on the drive up.
There are pods of orcas in the Straits of San Juan de Fuca in the summers up there. There are *day long trips* to go out and whale watch.
I think I may have to do this, too.
Must remember to bring Dramamine.
Sometimes, Classmates.com comes up with a real gem. Sometimes. Now, there is no way in hell that I want to be found by most of the people that I went to high school with--though, if they really want to get ahold of me, they can send me email through the site. Note that no one has yet, so I guess that's saying something. Ha!
Anyway, mostly, I've been using Classmates to find people that I used to be very close to, but have fallen out of touch with for various reasons. Two of those were childhood best friends, Shawnie and Scott, and one of those was just yesterday--my stepdad's girlfriend after he and my mom divorced.
Most of you have probably heard me talk about Paula at one point or another. If you've ever heard me say, "Tits on a Ritz!"...that's Paula.
I was actually looking for her daughter, but found her instead, and was just thrilled. Sent her an email through Classmates, and got a floored and excited reply back late last night/early this morning. I was so excited about *that* that I had to call my mother at work.
Paula was--is, I'm sure--quite, quite awesome. We all loved her to death, she was one of the best things that happened to us as kids. It's so cool to have found her again, and to find that she's as happy to hear from us as we were to find her.
Tuesday, I got a call from a woman at the San Jose Post Record, who needs a copy of my fictitious business name statement. In order to make sure that process is complete, the fictitious business name has to be published, along with a short description of what the business does, and a phone number (yay for cellphones) for a period of a month. They'll send a record of that back to the county clerk's office, blah blah blah. (A fictitious business name statement, also known as doing business as (DBA) is required if you're starting up a business with a name that doesn't include your surname.)
It occured to me today, as I was making a copy to fax over to her, none of these people asked me for any sort of identification. Not the city of Sunnyvale when they gave me a business license--they didn't even verify my address, though if they work for the city, they're probably pretty familiar with it's boundaries, but still. The county clerk recorder's office didn't ask for it, either, just blithely accepted that the info I was providing was correct.
I guess, strictly speaking, it's not necessary information, but why is it that we need to provide photo ID to get on a plane, to buy things with a credit card, to apply for a job, but we don't need it to get a business license. How interesting.
In a couple of weeks, I'm driving up to Seattle to spend some time with my mom, and to go see the Howard Shore LOTR symphony up there. Brett will be joining us the Thursday after I get there, and he and I will drive home that Sunday.
I decided quite awhile ago that I wanted to take the scenic route up the coast--so take Highway 1/101 all the way up. I've never done that before, the days are long right now, and it seems like it'd be a very leisurely drive, so why not?
Up until a few days ago, I didn't have anything on my list that I really wanted to see, except for a vague idea of 'going to see the redwoods in Humboldt County.' In doing some quick research on it today, I came across the following:
Follow the Avenue of the Giants
The 33-mile Avenue challenges the senses, not your driving. The route is flat with mostly gentle curves that hug the banks of the Eel River as it winds through massive redwood trees. The Avenue is a breathtaking scenic alternative as you enter or leave Humboldt County, or makes an easy morning or afternoon drive. From the South, enter the Avenue at Phillipsville (just north of Garberville); from the North your access is at Pepperwood (the Avenue is well marked from Highway 101). Along the route, take plenty of stops to stretch your legs and explore the towering forest. There's a state park Visitors Center near Weott that's worth a look, and don't miss Founders Grove and the nearby Dyerville Giant.
Sweeeeeet.
I mean, imagine what it would be like, seeing this stuff up close? Being able to get out of the car and wander among those trees?
Yep, sign me up.
So excited!
Uh-*huh*.
Spam mail at work: "She'll say it's too biiiiiiig!"
Okay, so, if you're advertising Viagra, and if the point of the whole thing is supposed to be the ability to have sex in the first place, isn't that kind of counter-intuitive? Because if she 'says it's too biiiiiiig,' then you're probably not getting any as a result, which totally defeats the purpose.
Right?
Oh, you mean I'm taking it too literally? Sorry. :)
I don't often read Wil Wheaton's blog anymore--call it a difference in opinion on a few fundamental things. However, every once in awhile, he sponsors some stuff I can really get behind...like, say, raising money for Moonie's daughter.
And this:
Support our troops -- send them your GMail invites!
Definitely worth a read. If you've got GMail and you've got invites to spare, please consider doing this. I will be, once I actually get to the point where I'm getting invitations.
Today, I got both my business license and my fictitious name permit. I still have to get my seller's permit, but I didn't want to deal with yet another government office today--and, I think I can get that part online.
Now, I just need to deal with finding a corporate bank account, then get my website and stuff set up.
Whee. Away we go. :)
Last night, Brett and I caught most of a program that was Nancy Reagan, Patty Davis, and Ron Reagan Jr. talking about their perceptions of Ronald Reagan. The Man They Knew, or something like that. It was really interesting, but it was also profoundly sad and poignant, especially watching Nancy fight tears as she answered some of the interviewer's questions.
Today, I am glad I'm not home, because not being home means that I can't (couldn't) watch any of the proceedings. Amy and I talked about it briefly, particularly about the relationship that Ronald and Nancy obviously shared, how it's still written in every line of her body, even after his death. How it jumps out at you in old photographs of the pair of them, that kind of thing.
We also talked briefly about how Alzheimer's is an absolutely horrible way to go--which it is. I've written about it before, sort of--I worked in nursing homes for several years, and spent a majority of that time in lockdown units.
What was it like in the lockdown? Well...
There was a keypad on both sides of the two doors that lead in and out. The combination changed every month. We had to walk in and out quickly, and make sure the door closed behind us, lest someone try to sneak out. Anyone with a pet who streaks for the open door to try and get outside every time a guest comes in will have a sense of what that was like.
What was it like?
There were daily 'orientation sessions,' not to introduce newcomers, but to try and keep our residents oriented to certain things. What day of the week it was. What year it was. Who the president was. ... What their names were. Their names, the names of their spouses, the names of their children and grandchildren. It was easier for some than others. For some, we couldn't make their attendance mandatory, because they couldn't remember how to speak anymore.
What was it like?
The ones who could still speak, the ones who were easily oriented, it was simply a matter of trying to take care of them the best we were able. There were occasional squabbles when someone wanted to go out and we couldn't allow them to do so, but on the whole, they were simply very pleasant, if absentminded.
The ones who'd lost their power of speech, those were the ones to watch out for. It was clear they'd be trying to communicate--they'd follow you around, or meet your eyes with that sense of urgency that let you know they had something on their minds that they were desperate to get out. They'd mumble softly, or make hand gestures, they'd try everything they could think of, and if that didn't work (and it so rarely did), they'd start to hit or kick, whatever they felt they had to do to get the point across.
The best example I can give of what it was like for me, though...
I've spoken about this before, though I don't remember to whom.
Eastridge was a three floor home. The first floor was all maintenance-type stuff. Dining room and kitchen, laundry, staff room, etc. The second floor had two wings, a long term wing, and a critical care wing. The long term wing is pretty self-explanatory. The critical care wing was for patients who'd just come in from the hospital, or needed a lot of very intensive, very specialized care. The third floor was also separated into two wings: long-term, non-lockdown psychiatric, and the lockdown.
I started out working the long term wing on the second floor, and floated over to the critical side as needed. That was where I first learned how to deal with colostomy bags, and how rabidly infectious staph is.
I ended up on the third floor because they were short staffed, and never ended up going back. On the third floor, we had several schizophrenic patients, a few obsessive-compulsives...not flight risks, but they had to be kept under close observation and weren't quite sufficient enough to live on their own.
I shifted to the lockdown at my own request. I got tired of having bedpans thrown at me, being sworn at, and all kinds of other weird and unpleasant crap. There were maybe forty patients in the lockdown, and the first day that I was there, sitting at the nurse's station and looking over charts, one of the patients stood patiently there by the desk, with the world's biggest smile on his face. None of us could quite figure out what was going on, but since he was one of the more combative patients, and he didn't seem to be so inclined toward me, they let me handle the care of him when it was my shift.
Proving that there's still something of them in there, somewhere...not a day went by that he wasn't standing inside the door waiting for me when it was time for my shift to start. Every time he saw me, his face lit up, and he cupped my face in his hands gently for a minute, always mumbling. Always, always mumbling, looking at me in that expectant way someone does when they've just asked a question, or expect you to be listening.
His wife was the one who finally solved the mystery for us.
As some men are, he was especially close to his mother. Once she saw me and heard about what was going on, she brought in a picture of the two of them. The resemblance between his mother and me was pretty startling. If I'd been thinking, I would have tried to trace the geneaology, butI never considered it at the time.
He was my patient after that, moreso than before.
When I finally left Eastridge for a different facility, with better pay and better care, he was the hardest one to leave behind.
1. People are nice.
I went to the post office this morning to send off Amy's DVD and return something from Crafter's Choice that I didn't ask for (I mean, really. Since when am I a quilter?), and got to chatting with the woman who was in line in front of me. They had three windows open that were taking forever, and the line grew really large behind us, so the inevitable 'we got here just in time' comments started up. When she found out that I was on my lunch hour, she made me go in front of her--would not accept anything but agreement. I kept shaking my head, and she ended up walking around and slipping in behind me, in spite of my objections.
2. Gas is freaking expensive.
Three quarters of a tank, $30. Ow. Still not as expensive as bottled water, I suppose, but still. Ow.
The car wash was fun, though, and now my car is all sexy again. I love that dark blue color.
3. Country singers amuse me.
What is it with the latest trend in country music, where a lot of the men sing with their eyes all squinched up, sounding like they're constipated and trying to squeeze out a log while they're singing?
Or is that just me?
4. I am blind.
No matter who parks in the parking space closest to the building to the right of the entrance, the glare from the sun blinds me right around this time every day. I've taken to parking there, because it's worse from minivans and SUVs, and I had *thought* it helped, but clearly (or, perhaps, through sun-spotted vision), it hasn't.
5. A bonus comment.
We are doing the happy dance here at work, as one of our most...ahem, vocal clients has moved on to another job, leaving other people to deal with the Vital project.
So, over the Memorial Day weekend, I bought and started playing Everquest. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, I really really do.
However, unsurprisingly, I'm having the same problems with it now that I did during my brief, one-week stint a few years ago--it's awfully boring. Run this way, kill this thing, kill that thing, nearly get killed by this other thing, run, run, runrunrun, I look good when I run, whee, thud.
Amusingly, I haven't had anyone hit on me because I'm playing a female character yet, but give it time.
And yeah, as frustrating and irritating as it is, I'll probably keep playing for awhile...see, my enchanter was given this quest to make a full set of armor, and arg. It's pissing me off. I'm kicking myself for ever selling spiderling silks when I first started. I'm annoyed at the game gods because there's this monster that rarely ever spawns that I need something from. Strike that, I need *three* somethings from. So, basically, I need three of these monsters...except that not only are the monsters themselves rare, but the item they drop is *also* rare, so...grah.
Now I'm just in stubborn mode, you know? I want to finish that fucking set of armor comma dammit. I don't want to start over again because I've already got four or five of the seven or eight pieces that I need, and the thought of starting all over again with the enchanter at level 1 just does not fill me with glee. But arg!
So...yeah. Definitely a descent into madness.
I have to admit, though, there are some pretty cool people around there. One guy I ran into just blithely passed off 300 platinum pieces to me, and apologizes because he didn't have more. It's also not uncommon to have higher level characters just randomly cast buffs on you if they happen to pass you by. Not bad.
Anyway, if any of you play EQ, and you happen to be on the Mithaniel Marr server, and you ever see Imrielsa online...say hello. I'll probably still be stuck in Greater Faydark hell.
Or, if you have a compelling pitch to get me to start over on another server, well, maybe I'll listen. Maybe. :)