Nine days ago I blogged about how the IT industry in the US is outsourcing itself out of existance and how this might directly affect yours truly. Buried in one paragraph was the intimation that I was looking for employment in the private industry (I'm currently a State worker) and closer to home. Specifically, someone very new to the local BBS I frequent posted a job opening. It looked promising as I had much of the required skill set so I went for it and emailed my resume. This apparently worked well enough to earn me a response detailing a little more about the company and asking if I'd be interested in "an informal interview". Yes, I responded and we set it up.
So yesterday, I leave work early and the light rail, bus and my pedal power all align nicely getting me home 35 minutes before the interview. As the office is just two miles from my house, this gave me plenty of transition time. I arrive there a perfect three minutes before the schedule two o'clock appointment and am soon greeted by a tall man who looks familiar. He notes that I look familiar, too, and soon realizes it is because his step-daughter and my youngest daughter are good friends. Well, there's a nifty ice-breaker.
The interview goes well, I thought. I did learn that while this is the leading national company delivering medical financial software for reporting the the federal government, it is also a small shop with just over a dozen total employees. I'm informed that they carry the usual benefits and a generous self-directed, retirement benefit (he told me that with profit sharing it usually works out to about 20-25% of salary). The downside is that the health care option is limited to just one: Kaiser. We've done Kaiser and were pleasantly surprised when we finally tried another HMO. Oh well, Kaiser isn't awful, just...mediocre. And we do have a concern with my middle daughter's epilepsy treatment. While we didn't talk hard numbers or even ranges of salary, he did make the statement that my salary, should I get the job, would be definitely increased. He seemed like he was almost laughing at the incredibly low amount I am being paid now. Hmm, that sounds promising.
Anyway, I guess I passed that audition because he told me that he would be scheduling a second "informal" interview with the company's owner and his daughter who is also apparently the heir-apparent for the owner's eventual retirement. Yes, it is a family business and, it would seem, well taken care of. I've never known working in a place like that. I've worked for the State for the last 18-1/2 years, almost straight out of college.
I'm somewhat excited about the prospect of more money and working so incredibly close to home. But on the other hand, I've nothing to lose as I've already got a job. Still, I think I'm begining to want this so much that I might get nervous. We'll have to wait and see how the next step goes.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Monday, October 25, 2004
Daddy's Little Girl
My youngest daughter had been a acolyte at the Presbyterian Church we used to attend. Her duties then were to walk down the center aisle, slowly so the flame on the end of her candle-lighter does not go out, and then light the two candles on the altar table and leave back up the center. Then at the end of the service she was to come down the aisle again, snuff the candles, then stand with the minister and exit with him. She started doing that when she was in the second grade.
But having moved south a few miles we wanted to find a church closer to home--it really helps build a sense of community when you see familiar faces at church and school and soccer and the grocery store, etc--and my wife was finally submitting to her years long pull toward the Catholic Church. I feel it is important that the family not attend separate churches so I had to consider becoming Catholic myself and putting my daughters through that as well. I was raised Catholic and missed much of the traditions, however, I was very leary of re-joining them as I was afraid much of my political and theological leanings would not fit well. Turns out the parish priest is even more liberal than I am, I think, and his explanation of the usage of the term "virgin" helped me accept some of the Marian ideas of the RC. So last Easter, the whole family was confirmed into the RCC.
Still it was a tough slog for the kids. Frankly, a Catholic Mass is not as fun a most Protestant services mainly because the kids have to stay through it all. Before my daughters would go off to their classes after about 10-15 minutes in the sanctuary, but the Catholics keep them all in for the most part. But my youngest (who still pines for our "old church") is game girl who tries to make the best of her situation. She started singing off and on with the children's choir and just recently signed up to be an alter server. Now, back in my day it was only the boys who could do that as it was seen as a possible step toward the priesthood, but I guess back in the 80s the pope cleared the way for girls to participate, too.
Yesterday was her first time as an alter server. I was surprised at how proud I was to see her up there. She looked so incredibly sweet as she was the only fourth grader up there, the rest were sixth graders I believe. The other two girls and the boy were very kind and helpful which helped a lot. She asked them and they allowed her to hold one of the candles while the priest read the gospel and she held the bowl for him to wash his hands in preparation of the Eucharist. Once when she was sitting with the rest during the homily, she was looking kind of bored. I caught her eye and winked at her and she smiled the sweetest smile. That's going to be one of the memories I'll be able to rely on to make me feel better for years to come.
But having moved south a few miles we wanted to find a church closer to home--it really helps build a sense of community when you see familiar faces at church and school and soccer and the grocery store, etc--and my wife was finally submitting to her years long pull toward the Catholic Church. I feel it is important that the family not attend separate churches so I had to consider becoming Catholic myself and putting my daughters through that as well. I was raised Catholic and missed much of the traditions, however, I was very leary of re-joining them as I was afraid much of my political and theological leanings would not fit well. Turns out the parish priest is even more liberal than I am, I think, and his explanation of the usage of the term "virgin" helped me accept some of the Marian ideas of the RC. So last Easter, the whole family was confirmed into the RCC.
Still it was a tough slog for the kids. Frankly, a Catholic Mass is not as fun a most Protestant services mainly because the kids have to stay through it all. Before my daughters would go off to their classes after about 10-15 minutes in the sanctuary, but the Catholics keep them all in for the most part. But my youngest (who still pines for our "old church") is game girl who tries to make the best of her situation. She started singing off and on with the children's choir and just recently signed up to be an alter server. Now, back in my day it was only the boys who could do that as it was seen as a possible step toward the priesthood, but I guess back in the 80s the pope cleared the way for girls to participate, too.
Yesterday was her first time as an alter server. I was surprised at how proud I was to see her up there. She looked so incredibly sweet as she was the only fourth grader up there, the rest were sixth graders I believe. The other two girls and the boy were very kind and helpful which helped a lot. She asked them and they allowed her to hold one of the candles while the priest read the gospel and she held the bowl for him to wash his hands in preparation of the Eucharist. Once when she was sitting with the rest during the homily, she was looking kind of bored. I caught her eye and winked at her and she smiled the sweetest smile. That's going to be one of the memories I'll be able to rely on to make me feel better for years to come.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Dreams...Hopes...and Reality
Two nights ago I had another bad dream. It was kind of similar to the one I wrote about before. Much shorter this time and updated to be in our new car. I was driving alone in our new (used) Mercury Villager. I was doing okay but I was running just a bit late. I was coming up to an intersection on the other side of which were two separate freeway entrances: one going off to the right and one to the left. The one on the left went up a large overpass structure as it veered leftward and it was banked at a severe angle. The light at the intersection changed just as I was approaching it and slowing down. I had to accellerate and barely had time to read the signs and figure out that I needed to take the left entrance. I went up it and the bank of the overpass was too much. The van started to go over and I started plummetting in free fall. I saw the ground below spinning as the van was falling and I had time to say a prayer and will my love out to each of my daughters and my wife and then...I woke up. It was about 3:30am and I didn't sleep anymore that day.
The next day (or was it the same day) we had a follow up appointment with my daughter's neurologist. That day in the email that Mrs. Koko sent me to remind me of the appointment, she said that since surgery was no longer seemed like a reasonable option and the latest medicine wasn't working (the Felbatol made her shaky, jumpy and gave her a "weird feeling" which was a lot like a pre-cursor to her seizures) she was ready to push for the Vagus Nerve Stimulator (VNS). We arrive at the doc's office and as it is a late appointment no one else is in the waiting room and we are ushered right in by the doctor even though we were a few minutes early. As soon as we enter the room, the first words out of his mouth are "I think we should try the vagus nerve stimulator." (No, he's not one to say 'hello' or any of the other common courtesies one might expect; he's not rude necessarily as much as he is a skilled and focused professional.) Well, the wife was surprised (she thought she'd have to fight for it) and pleased. Me? I'm dubious. The data is hardly conclusive on the VNS and they still don't know why it does work when it does. It seems hardly more than a crap shoot to me. But like the doc said, it's like a lottery ticket; what have you go to lose? Well, it is a surgery being peformed on my daughter, albeit a far more minor one compared to what we had contemplated earlier this year.
Interestingly, he also told us that his partner presented my daughter's case at a national gathering of epilepsy doctors at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine. Many of the docs there suggested a something-or-other scan which would mean invasive probes and injecting a dye during and after a seizure which would have to be monitored inside a gamma scanner. They also offered that the VNS should be explored as an option. When you have the nation's top experts in the field telling you something, I guess you should listen. So, we're going to start moving along this line.
The thing is, as my wife points out: time is passing and in less than a year our daughter will be in high school and she is not learning enough. What the hell is going to happen to her in the future? She is a bright enough girl and she's turning into a real beauty (if she wasn't so shy we could probably get her jobs as a print model; she is quite thin and long-legged with nice coloring). But she has an incredibly low self-esteem and no self confidence about anything. What is to become of my precious little girl?
The next day (or was it the same day) we had a follow up appointment with my daughter's neurologist. That day in the email that Mrs. Koko sent me to remind me of the appointment, she said that since surgery was no longer seemed like a reasonable option and the latest medicine wasn't working (the Felbatol made her shaky, jumpy and gave her a "weird feeling" which was a lot like a pre-cursor to her seizures) she was ready to push for the Vagus Nerve Stimulator (VNS). We arrive at the doc's office and as it is a late appointment no one else is in the waiting room and we are ushered right in by the doctor even though we were a few minutes early. As soon as we enter the room, the first words out of his mouth are "I think we should try the vagus nerve stimulator." (No, he's not one to say 'hello' or any of the other common courtesies one might expect; he's not rude necessarily as much as he is a skilled and focused professional.) Well, the wife was surprised (she thought she'd have to fight for it) and pleased. Me? I'm dubious. The data is hardly conclusive on the VNS and they still don't know why it does work when it does. It seems hardly more than a crap shoot to me. But like the doc said, it's like a lottery ticket; what have you go to lose? Well, it is a surgery being peformed on my daughter, albeit a far more minor one compared to what we had contemplated earlier this year.
Interestingly, he also told us that his partner presented my daughter's case at a national gathering of epilepsy doctors at the Bowman Gray School of Medicine. Many of the docs there suggested a something-or-other scan which would mean invasive probes and injecting a dye during and after a seizure which would have to be monitored inside a gamma scanner. They also offered that the VNS should be explored as an option. When you have the nation's top experts in the field telling you something, I guess you should listen. So, we're going to start moving along this line.
The thing is, as my wife points out: time is passing and in less than a year our daughter will be in high school and she is not learning enough. What the hell is going to happen to her in the future? She is a bright enough girl and she's turning into a real beauty (if she wasn't so shy we could probably get her jobs as a print model; she is quite thin and long-legged with nice coloring). But she has an incredibly low self-esteem and no self confidence about anything. What is to become of my precious little girl?
Whiskey Buisiness
Last week, in anticipation of the third presidential debate, I got a hankerin' for a nice martini. Unfortunately, I didn't have any Grey Goose handy (and is there really any other vodka for a decent martini?). Oddly, on the local BBS I frequent, another fellow was thinking the same thing. Could there have been a zeitgeist at work?
Later that week, Friday I think, Mrs. Koko and I traipse over to Macroni Grill for supper. We get our favorite server: Sarah (yes, with an "h" at the end or as she says, "'Sarah', fully dressed."). She is a kick. I just wish she could ignore all her other patrons and just sit down with us. But, as my martini mood had once again revisited me, I seized the opportunity to finally order one. Oh...yes.... A fine, Grey Goose martini with a twist (no olive, please). Here's to civilized living...and satisfying the zeitgeist.
Now, with that martini thirst quenched and the weather turned blustery and decidedly wet, it is finally that wonderful time of year I call "Whiskey Season". To be sure, brandy is also encouraged. It's really a matter of my wallet and how much I'd like to consume in an evening. I have to go a bit slower with the Irish Whiskey than I do with brandy. I used to be an unwaivering Bushmills, even though it comes from the Protestant distiller which no "real Irishmen" would drink from (except for the special dispensation for Guiness, of course). Jameson always seemed a bit harsher to me going down though it does have a nice finish. But now, I can't say as I really have preference of one over the other. That is, as long as we're talking about the "basic", low-end bottle. I've not tried Jameson's 12 year old whiskey but Bushmill's Black Bush is by far my drink of choice, especially this time of year. And it makes a great gift.
Later that week, Friday I think, Mrs. Koko and I traipse over to Macroni Grill for supper. We get our favorite server: Sarah (yes, with an "h" at the end or as she says, "'Sarah', fully dressed."). She is a kick. I just wish she could ignore all her other patrons and just sit down with us. But, as my martini mood had once again revisited me, I seized the opportunity to finally order one. Oh...yes.... A fine, Grey Goose martini with a twist (no olive, please). Here's to civilized living...and satisfying the zeitgeist.
Now, with that martini thirst quenched and the weather turned blustery and decidedly wet, it is finally that wonderful time of year I call "Whiskey Season". To be sure, brandy is also encouraged. It's really a matter of my wallet and how much I'd like to consume in an evening. I have to go a bit slower with the Irish Whiskey than I do with brandy. I used to be an unwaivering Bushmills, even though it comes from the Protestant distiller which no "real Irishmen" would drink from (except for the special dispensation for Guiness, of course). Jameson always seemed a bit harsher to me going down though it does have a nice finish. But now, I can't say as I really have preference of one over the other. That is, as long as we're talking about the "basic", low-end bottle. I've not tried Jameson's 12 year old whiskey but Bushmill's Black Bush is by far my drink of choice, especially this time of year. And it makes a great gift.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Time for a career change?
Uh-oh...
There's a famous scene in The Graduate where Benjamin Braddock is making his dazed but cordial rounds at his graduation party. A neighbor or family friend corners him and tells him, "One word, Ben: 'plastics'." "Plastics" was the word of the future of industry in the sixties & seventies. By the eighties though it was "Computers". You'd always have a job if you "knew computers". That was my time.
Well, on a whim while hanging out with my girlfriend (who would eventually become my wife) in the early mid-eighties, I answered an ad from one of those trade schools for computer programming. It seemed a particularly good idea as I was a drama major and not getting many roles. Anyway, I got the financial aid and did the course: every single weeknight for an entire year (with one week off for Christmas). I learned BASIC, COBOL and something called RPG. About half to two-thirds of the students washed out before the end of the year. I made through and it qualified me for an entry level programming job with the State of California and thus began my programming career some twenty years ago.
Now, midway through my earning years I see my industry dwindling. I see my competition growing. I'm looking at 20+ years on my mortgage and college for my oldest daughter in two and a half years. And my career advancement prospects are dwindling fast.
Currently, I'm still a civil service worker although I've started sniffing around some private industry shops. I'm hoping for more interesting work and a much shorter commute without losing any money. Now, I've got to wonder how long any private industry job will be around.
OR...
Maybe it's time to start working on changing careers. As much as I'd love plying my trade as a full time freelance writer, it is unlikely I could make much more than 2/3 of my current income and that's not including losing the benefits I now enjoy. My other potential passion? Well, it'll take some years and some money but I've always wondered about a career in law. I understand that the McGeorge School of Law has a decent reputation. I've perused a couple of LSAT books and they seem like a veritable cake walk. Okay, that's overstating it a bit but the test is not a knowledge quiz but a critical thinking examination. This is not only be something that could open up a second career option, it could be something I could truly enjoy. However, I don't see myself being one of those uber-wealthy tort lawyers. My interest lie in helping folks negotiate and combat government bureaucracy, especially in special education. It may not make me much more money than I'm making now but I'd be able to sleep well at night. Then again, politics is interesting, too...
I'll have to look into it because I have NO idea what it'll cost in terms of time or money. But there's this...this aching, nagging feeling in my chest when I think about it...pulling at me... But dare I put my family through such an ordeal?
Friday, October 15, 2004
All Hallow's Eve Eve
Okay, so Halloween falls on a Sunday this year. It's bound to happen at least once every 14 years (7 days a week and a 50/50 chance of it being a leap year which could "leapfrog" Oct 31 from Saturday one year to Monday the next). As it is I've got to make sure I go to church that morning instead of playing guitar at the evening service so I can take my girls out for the Great Candy Shakedown. But, come ON, people! I just don't get people who say stuff like from this article.
For on thing, the term "Halloween" comes from "Hallow e'en" which is a shorted form of "All Hallow's Evening". It marks the day before All Hallow's Day which is November 1. I remember taking my first communion on that day. It is a day of some, albeit forgotten, significance in Christendom. "Hallow" refers to the "hallowed ones" sometimes called "saints" (little "s"). As a matter of fact, November 1 is often referred to as "All Saint's Day". Maybe if the last day in October was known as "Saintseen" it would have a totally different connotation. Hallowed ones, or little-s saints, refers simply to the dead. The night before All Hallow's Day, tradition tells us, our dead relatives are allowed to walk the earth to check up on us. I believe this is exactly the tradition behind the Mexican Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead where we've seen pictures of people marching around with large skeletons around them. Though morbid, it is actually a sweet tradition to honor one's passed relatives.
Later, of course, as many people are uncomfortable with the dead walking around and probably due to the confusion of the word "Underworld", things took a more devilish turn. Underworld used to refer to the place where the dead went. You know, crossing the River Styx, ruled by Hades...ah, "Hades". Somewhere along the line, Hades got confused with Hell and now we can see where the satanic association may have been derived from.
Oh well...that ain't gonna help those poor trick-or-treaters down in Georgia.
But on the plus side, they do have some enterprising young'uns there. The article notes some kids are taking advantage of the double dose of trick-or-treating and going out both nights. At least they'll get a better return on their costume expense dollar.
"'It's a day for the good Lord, not for the devil,' said Barbara Braswell, who plans to send her 4-year-old granddaughter Maliyah out trick-or-treating in a princess costume on Saturday instead.
For on thing, the term "Halloween" comes from "Hallow e'en" which is a shorted form of "All Hallow's Evening". It marks the day before All Hallow's Day which is November 1. I remember taking my first communion on that day. It is a day of some, albeit forgotten, significance in Christendom. "Hallow" refers to the "hallowed ones" sometimes called "saints" (little "s"). As a matter of fact, November 1 is often referred to as "All Saint's Day". Maybe if the last day in October was known as "Saintseen" it would have a totally different connotation. Hallowed ones, or little-s saints, refers simply to the dead. The night before All Hallow's Day, tradition tells us, our dead relatives are allowed to walk the earth to check up on us. I believe this is exactly the tradition behind the Mexican Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead where we've seen pictures of people marching around with large skeletons around them. Though morbid, it is actually a sweet tradition to honor one's passed relatives.
Later, of course, as many people are uncomfortable with the dead walking around and probably due to the confusion of the word "Underworld", things took a more devilish turn. Underworld used to refer to the place where the dead went. You know, crossing the River Styx, ruled by Hades...ah, "Hades". Somewhere along the line, Hades got confused with Hell and now we can see where the satanic association may have been derived from.
Oh well...that ain't gonna help those poor trick-or-treaters down in Georgia.
But on the plus side, they do have some enterprising young'uns there. The article notes some kids are taking advantage of the double dose of trick-or-treating and going out both nights. At least they'll get a better return on their costume expense dollar.
Monday, October 11, 2004
Look, up in the sky...all the way to heaven.
The "rule of three" gathered its final victim today. First was Janet Leigh of Psycho fame. Next, we lost Rodney Dangerfield. And today we lost another celebrity who, ironically, was a real stand-up guy: Christopher Reeve. Meaning no disrespect for Ms. Leigh or Mr. "No Respect", but Mr. Reeve was really accomplishing something. His advocacy for spinal cord injury research and stem cell research helped boost those areas many times over. His is a legacy that goes far beyond his film career. He was a great man who will be missed.
Monday, October 04, 2004
Flotsam & Jetsom
Back in September whilst shopping for a gift for my mommy, the Mrs. Koko accompanied me and we perused some wedding bands. You see, hers had sad date with Mr. Garbage Disposal a couple of years ago and mine became too uncomfortable to wear as I wear all my beer weight in my fingers. So while we both got sized (in a place recommended by DarkWings, thank you), I passed a discrete word to the salesgirl to pull some 1/4 karat solitaires. Whys so small, you ask? Cuz that's what Mrs. Koko has before she bent the prong and lost her diamond and I don't know WHAT ever happened to the ring! Plus, frankly money is not flying out my cornhole so we gotta be a bit practical (and if I can seal that in a romantic "how it used to be" wrapper, all the better). Bit of an ordeal navigating RT to get to the jeweler during lunch break...somehow was able to keep it to myself...finally I totally surprised her with the ring on the 20th anniversary of our first "date". Yes, she was quite smitten all over again.
...
Major hailstorm a couple of weeks ago. Man, the hailstones were easily about 1/2 to 3/4 inch in diameter and it lasted for about 10-15 minutes. The rain continued to downpour for another half hour after that. I went out in it just to experience it (and to look for one of the two stray cats we've semi-adopted). Man, I got soaked but I love to experience the fullness of what Nature can bring.
...
Was called upon for a couple of solos for church choir 'cause the teen girls weren't paying attention and Chris, the leader, was getting a bit frustrated with them. I did okay. Got a nice compliment on my Psalm bit. We do it to very AME-style gospel (damn but I wish I was born a black woman sometimes) which I love and even added a little "Mmmmm-mmmmmm" between the lyrics. Got a nice compliment for it afterwards.
...
My daughter's soccer team WON! I coached many of these girls two years ago--turns out both them and I too last year off--and we went 0-10 then. So this was our first victory of this year AND before. Now, if I could just get my assistant coach to shut up during the game. He is so damn negative, especially with his own daughter. They've got enough pressure out there, dammit, they don't need to hear complaints and whining from their coaches during the damn game. They're only nine and ten years old!
One of the new girls (new to me anyway) asked if I was going to coach next year so that she could ask for me specifically. That really was sweet.
...
Y'know...there was something else...something I've been meaning to share for a couple of days now...but I just can't think of it. Damn!
...
Couldn't order the tickets ahead because Koko has absolutely NO credit whatsoever. Couldn't get to the box office because they're only open during my work hours Monday through Friday. And I told this to my oldest daughter, a fifteen year old who is borderline GATE qualified but lacks the common sense God gave a goat. At 6:10pm tonight as I come through the door after over an hour's commute home, the rest of the family is at the table, halfway through their dinner. My daughter asks me about the tickets. I explain that, as I told her I was unable to get them. She asks me when the concert is and I tell her it is scheduled to start in about an hour. Bit of panic and last minute prep and we're out the door about 20 minutes later.
We hope to be able to by tix at the door...I explain that this may not be possible. Furthermore, I explain that while I know the name of the venue and that it is on the UCDavis campus, I do not know exactly how to get from the freeway to the concert hall. We pick up her boyfriend (he is begining to wear on me not because he is her boyfriend but because he is her first boyfriend and has been her boyfriend for many months now--it is time to move on!) and after a few last minute words with his stepmom (that dad and stepmom are cool, the mom is flake-a-zoid supreme) we're off. Long story short: the concert is sold out. Oh, why such the hue and cry for this concert? It was the "Nintendo Fusion" concert and Sonic Youth were supposedly going to perform music from Nintendo games. THIS is what my gamer daughter was all hyped up about. On the way there, her and her BF were discussing Final Fantasy characters and comparing the various incarnations post FF7 and how they stacked up. I mean they were even critiquing the costuming and the depth of the NPC (which I take to mean "non-primary characters"). These are real gamer geeks. But you know what? They applying legitimate critique and analysis to their world; as a former Star Trek geek, I gotta respect that.
...
I know there was something else...something I wanted to relate...oh well...maybe later.
...
Major hailstorm a couple of weeks ago. Man, the hailstones were easily about 1/2 to 3/4 inch in diameter and it lasted for about 10-15 minutes. The rain continued to downpour for another half hour after that. I went out in it just to experience it (and to look for one of the two stray cats we've semi-adopted). Man, I got soaked but I love to experience the fullness of what Nature can bring.
...
Was called upon for a couple of solos for church choir 'cause the teen girls weren't paying attention and Chris, the leader, was getting a bit frustrated with them. I did okay. Got a nice compliment on my Psalm bit. We do it to very AME-style gospel (damn but I wish I was born a black woman sometimes) which I love and even added a little "Mmmmm-mmmmmm" between the lyrics. Got a nice compliment for it afterwards.
...
My daughter's soccer team WON! I coached many of these girls two years ago--turns out both them and I too last year off--and we went 0-10 then. So this was our first victory of this year AND before. Now, if I could just get my assistant coach to shut up during the game. He is so damn negative, especially with his own daughter. They've got enough pressure out there, dammit, they don't need to hear complaints and whining from their coaches during the damn game. They're only nine and ten years old!
One of the new girls (new to me anyway) asked if I was going to coach next year so that she could ask for me specifically. That really was sweet.
...
Y'know...there was something else...something I've been meaning to share for a couple of days now...but I just can't think of it. Damn!
...
Couldn't order the tickets ahead because Koko has absolutely NO credit whatsoever. Couldn't get to the box office because they're only open during my work hours Monday through Friday. And I told this to my oldest daughter, a fifteen year old who is borderline GATE qualified but lacks the common sense God gave a goat. At 6:10pm tonight as I come through the door after over an hour's commute home, the rest of the family is at the table, halfway through their dinner. My daughter asks me about the tickets. I explain that, as I told her I was unable to get them. She asks me when the concert is and I tell her it is scheduled to start in about an hour. Bit of panic and last minute prep and we're out the door about 20 minutes later.
We hope to be able to by tix at the door...I explain that this may not be possible. Furthermore, I explain that while I know the name of the venue and that it is on the UCDavis campus, I do not know exactly how to get from the freeway to the concert hall. We pick up her boyfriend (he is begining to wear on me not because he is her boyfriend but because he is her first boyfriend and has been her boyfriend for many months now--it is time to move on!) and after a few last minute words with his stepmom (that dad and stepmom are cool, the mom is flake-a-zoid supreme) we're off. Long story short: the concert is sold out. Oh, why such the hue and cry for this concert? It was the "Nintendo Fusion" concert and Sonic Youth were supposedly going to perform music from Nintendo games. THIS is what my gamer daughter was all hyped up about. On the way there, her and her BF were discussing Final Fantasy characters and comparing the various incarnations post FF7 and how they stacked up. I mean they were even critiquing the costuming and the depth of the NPC (which I take to mean "non-primary characters"). These are real gamer geeks. But you know what? They applying legitimate critique and analysis to their world; as a former Star Trek geek, I gotta respect that.
...
I know there was something else...something I wanted to relate...oh well...maybe later.
My Pirate Name?
My pirate name is:
Red Davy Flint
Passion is a big part of your life, which makes sense for a pirate. Like the rock flint, you're hard and sharp. But, also like flint, you're easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!
Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.
And y'know...the cockatiel we just got does seem to favor me...rides on me shoulder most o' the live-long day, he does. Why not? I don't do the laundry, ye scurvy dog!
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Memories...
On a local BBS someone started a "nostalgia" topic and it got me strolling down the lane. This is probably more than you'd like to see but once you open the flood gates...
I remember...
...looking up at my mom as she collapsed in tears at the hospital desk when told that my father had died
...being intimidated in the first grade by Sister Wilhemena at St. Mel's (yeah, a saint named "Mel". Go figure!)
...hanging out with my friends in the tunnels dug in the field down the street in Fair Oaks
...trying to think of sins bad enough for confession
...swinging at the various "anatomically correct" pinatas at my godparent's house every Easter since before I was born
...looking out my window to see if I could spot Neil Armstrong on the moon
...wearing a funky metal bar brace to bed that kept my feet splayed outward to correct my "pidgeon toe"
...riding my red, Schwinn Stingray (with a white banana seat) all over the neighborhood and in the park
...swinging wildly at my big brother while he held me off with his hand on my head, his arm extened until he grew bored and just shoved me to the ground
...seeing a dog frozen to death at the bottom of the bell tower at St. Philomene's
...riding my bike home from school and getting the front tire hit by a car, knocking me to the ground but that was about it
...watching helplessly as my sixth grade big brother was beaten up by eighth graders
...playing crack the whip out in the grassy area of the school when the fog settled in and obscured us from the teachers
...arguing with my brother to watch Star Trek reruns rather than the boring old Watergate hearings
...always being one of the last picked for any sport
...putting a fishhook throug my finger when my godfather tried to show me how to fish on a camping trip up in Markelyville
...the traditional week in Sly Park for sixth graders where after one particularly long hike, the bus broke down to take us back and we had to hike even more, almost missing lunch but they scraped together some chili for us and it was the best meal I had ever had
...my first crushes on Kim Ehrhardt and Carolanne Maxham
...starting to tell dirty jokes in middle school
...feeling special because I made it into Jazz Band
...seeing Count Basie and later Dizzie Gilespie in concert
...giving up the trumpet because there's no way I could tolerate marching band
...my first play: learning how to do an Irish accent from a priest, sitting offstage right with all the girls in the play while the rest of the boys were by themselves off stage left which lead to my first real girlfriend
...the softness of her lips for that first kiss and that strange dizzying buzzing in my head for about an hour or two afterward
...my second play where I got a lead I thought I didn't deserve and the awful feeling of impending embarrassment on opening night knowing that people would be watching me and how that nervousness completely melted away after I said my second line and I was hooked forever
...riding my bike down the American River Trail countless times, eating wild blackberries and sucking on anise
...coming out of a rehearsal for a dictatorial director in college and learning that John Lennon had been shot
...hearing a friend come out of the closet and learning that gay people are all around me and experience all the same things and feel all the same things and are really no different from me
...skipping a philosophy class because my friends and I deduced that it would be far more educational to continue our discussion in the pub
And my earliest, most precious memory is a single image of my father as I looked back over my shoulder after coming down the hallway. He was laying on his side on the couch in a white tank top. He looked up and smiled at me.
That is my only memory of him. He died when I was barely four years old.
I remember...
...looking up at my mom as she collapsed in tears at the hospital desk when told that my father had died
...being intimidated in the first grade by Sister Wilhemena at St. Mel's (yeah, a saint named "Mel". Go figure!)
...hanging out with my friends in the tunnels dug in the field down the street in Fair Oaks
...trying to think of sins bad enough for confession
...swinging at the various "anatomically correct" pinatas at my godparent's house every Easter since before I was born
...looking out my window to see if I could spot Neil Armstrong on the moon
...wearing a funky metal bar brace to bed that kept my feet splayed outward to correct my "pidgeon toe"
...riding my red, Schwinn Stingray (with a white banana seat) all over the neighborhood and in the park
...swinging wildly at my big brother while he held me off with his hand on my head, his arm extened until he grew bored and just shoved me to the ground
...seeing a dog frozen to death at the bottom of the bell tower at St. Philomene's
...riding my bike home from school and getting the front tire hit by a car, knocking me to the ground but that was about it
...watching helplessly as my sixth grade big brother was beaten up by eighth graders
...playing crack the whip out in the grassy area of the school when the fog settled in and obscured us from the teachers
...arguing with my brother to watch Star Trek reruns rather than the boring old Watergate hearings
...always being one of the last picked for any sport
...putting a fishhook throug my finger when my godfather tried to show me how to fish on a camping trip up in Markelyville
...the traditional week in Sly Park for sixth graders where after one particularly long hike, the bus broke down to take us back and we had to hike even more, almost missing lunch but they scraped together some chili for us and it was the best meal I had ever had
...my first crushes on Kim Ehrhardt and Carolanne Maxham
...starting to tell dirty jokes in middle school
...feeling special because I made it into Jazz Band
...seeing Count Basie and later Dizzie Gilespie in concert
...giving up the trumpet because there's no way I could tolerate marching band
...my first play: learning how to do an Irish accent from a priest, sitting offstage right with all the girls in the play while the rest of the boys were by themselves off stage left which lead to my first real girlfriend
...the softness of her lips for that first kiss and that strange dizzying buzzing in my head for about an hour or two afterward
...my second play where I got a lead I thought I didn't deserve and the awful feeling of impending embarrassment on opening night knowing that people would be watching me and how that nervousness completely melted away after I said my second line and I was hooked forever
...riding my bike down the American River Trail countless times, eating wild blackberries and sucking on anise
...coming out of a rehearsal for a dictatorial director in college and learning that John Lennon had been shot
...hearing a friend come out of the closet and learning that gay people are all around me and experience all the same things and feel all the same things and are really no different from me
...skipping a philosophy class because my friends and I deduced that it would be far more educational to continue our discussion in the pub
And my earliest, most precious memory is a single image of my father as I looked back over my shoulder after coming down the hallway. He was laying on his side on the couch in a white tank top. He looked up and smiled at me.
That is my only memory of him. He died when I was barely four years old.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Mom's 70th
Well my big bro and I pulled it off. We finally did something for our mother, just us for her. Usually, because her birtday falls in a month with other (step-) family birthdays, they all get celebrated together. But his was her 70th and my brother and I thought something extra was needed. I came up with the idea and BigBro did the initial leg work. I have an old picture of the three of us from when I was about 1-1/2 and brother was about five. I proposed we copy and crop out our face pix from that and put them in a locket. Bro checked out the jewelry and picked one out. I checked it out the next day and okay'ed the order. Two days later I picked it up and had it engraved.
Unfortunately, the photo work didn't go as planned. I got the pix copied okay and editted/sized them just so on my home 'puter using PhotoShop Elements. But when I went back to Kinko's (with only 15 minutes before I had to leave for the restaurant we were meeting my mom at) their Sony photo machine was not working. At the last minute, actually about ten minutes after the last minute, I just printed up a couple of bad, inkjet versions of the pix to use a placeholders in the locket.
Word came via my brother earlier that day that mom said that since we were taking her out to dinner we were not to get her anything else. Like we ever listened to her before. The dinner went well; the gift was very appreciated. I think we did okay. Granted, we really didn't have that high of standards to meet. Still, I glad we were finally able to do something nice for her, just her, on her birthday.
Unfortunately, the photo work didn't go as planned. I got the pix copied okay and editted/sized them just so on my home 'puter using PhotoShop Elements. But when I went back to Kinko's (with only 15 minutes before I had to leave for the restaurant we were meeting my mom at) their Sony photo machine was not working. At the last minute, actually about ten minutes after the last minute, I just printed up a couple of bad, inkjet versions of the pix to use a placeholders in the locket.
Word came via my brother earlier that day that mom said that since we were taking her out to dinner we were not to get her anything else. Like we ever listened to her before. The dinner went well; the gift was very appreciated. I think we did okay. Granted, we really didn't have that high of standards to meet. Still, I glad we were finally able to do something nice for her, just her, on her birthday.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Pedophile vows to start new life in Wash.
Pedophile vows to start new life in Wash.: "'I have no idea why God has allowed me to live. It must be grace, because it's undeserved, unearned. All I can do is give back and be as unobtrusive as possible.'"
Well, he seems to understand grace. And he seems to be fully "recovered". But for such vile crimes....can it be said that he is not the same person who commited those crimes? Like someone who suffered a mental illness, perhaps a tumor, which drove them to crime. Once cured, can they be trusted? Are they in effect a different person?
This guy seems legitimately remorseful. But then, wouldn't he say the same things if he weren't but wanted to get out? Only time will tell.
But I'm curious about his observation...why has God allowed him to live?
Well, he seems to understand grace. And he seems to be fully "recovered". But for such vile crimes....can it be said that he is not the same person who commited those crimes? Like someone who suffered a mental illness, perhaps a tumor, which drove them to crime. Once cured, can they be trusted? Are they in effect a different person?
This guy seems legitimately remorseful. But then, wouldn't he say the same things if he weren't but wanted to get out? Only time will tell.
But I'm curious about his observation...why has God allowed him to live?
There she is...Our Commodity
CNN.com - Less talent, more skin at pageant - Sep 17, 2004
I grant you that the Miss America contestants been an increasingly competitive with regard to the talent portion and have come from far more educated background than their predecessors. However, we're still just setting them up as this year's hot commodity, "...and just look at the new packaging! Va-va-va-VOOM!"
Hey, Koko loves looking at the pretty ladies, don't get me wrong. But when paraded around as if at a marketplace... not so much. It's like seeing all the new corvettes on the dealer's lot compared to catching a glimpse of one pulling up to a fine restaurant or tooling down a country road. Beauty, and the intangible charm that is held by all women, can only be truly savored "in the wild". Staged marketing leaves a taste like beer from a can rather than the keg. (Have I used enough metaphors yet?)
But the pageant people know what side their bread is buttered on. "McMaster said the swimsuit competition demonstrates physical fitness and accounts for just 10 percent of a contestant's final score." Physical fitness? Yeah, right. Just like the Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit edition sells so much because of it's tribute to athleticism.
I grant you that the Miss America contestants been an increasingly competitive with regard to the talent portion and have come from far more educated background than their predecessors. However, we're still just setting them up as this year's hot commodity, "...and just look at the new packaging! Va-va-va-VOOM!"
Hey, Koko loves looking at the pretty ladies, don't get me wrong. But when paraded around as if at a marketplace...
But the pageant people know what side their bread is buttered on. "McMaster said the swimsuit competition demonstrates physical fitness and accounts for just 10 percent of a contestant's final score." Physical fitness? Yeah, right. Just like the Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit edition sells so much because of it's tribute to athleticism.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Early retirement? I wish
So, last Friday I get called into the principal's office--I mean my manager's office--and get a formal warning?...reprimand?...talking-to about my (earned, paid, and approved) absences over the last eight months or so. Sure, there's been some hardships what with the one car struggling for survival (which it eventually lost just last month) and that little problem with my daughter facing potential brain surgery. But through it all, I've done my work (programming) and met my deadlines and even received a little emailed pat on the back for helping another programmer with a client on a system I knew little about. But what's this? I'm not in the office enough? And I get the impression that it's not really my manager that's all that put out about it--except for when I come in late which is almost always due to the fact that I depend upon a not-totally-reliable bus & light rail system--but that she is responding to the complaints of others. My co-workers? My manager's boss? I don't know so now I must suspect everybody.
My morale was not all that high anyway as budget cuts and departmental re-orgs have shifted me into working on mainframe programs (f-ing COBOL) in a 30-year old language that I haven't touched in over a decade rather than on web apps and or Visual Basic programming. But now...I was quite close--I could feel the words rising in my throat before I choked them back--to simply saying "Fine. I'll just quit then. And as I am, or was, the ONLY person you have working on the PL system, I guess your target dates are going slip way beyond the legal mandates. That's too bad, isn't it?" I am paid to be a programmer not a chair warmer. As long as I am indeed programming and meeting/exceeding my milestones, does it really matter how happy I keep the clock watchers?
My morale was not all that high anyway as budget cuts and departmental re-orgs have shifted me into working on mainframe programs (f-ing COBOL) in a 30-year old language that I haven't touched in over a decade rather than on web apps and or Visual Basic programming. But now...I was quite close--I could feel the words rising in my throat before I choked them back--to simply saying "Fine. I'll just quit then. And as I am, or was, the ONLY person you have working on the PL system, I guess your target dates are going slip way beyond the legal mandates. That's too bad, isn't it?" I am paid to be a programmer not a chair warmer. As long as I am indeed programming and meeting/exceeding my milestones, does it really matter how happy I keep the clock watchers?
Gamer Grrlz
This is where my oldest (15) daughter is headed. Her dream job is to be a "character designer" for Nintendo. I'm hoping she can parlay her female-ness into a scholarship as she graduates high school (if all goes as planned) in three years. I don't imagine male/female parity being achieved in the gaming world in the intevening years. I pushing her to write to Mary-Margaret and WomenGamers to get a sense of what she will need and what she will be up against. I'd also like to see her start a website or blog in order to build a portfolio of her reviews as well as her character ideas.
But what am I saying? like she doesn't spend enough time on the computer?! It's hard not to be worried about the time she spends on the 'net. We monitor it somewhat but can't be there over her shoulder all the time. She's a good kid...bright but naive in some ways, completely not either in others. The thing us 21st century parents have got to realize is that the computer is a communication device, the new telephone. The stereotype of the teen girl used to be with the pink princess phone pressed to her ear while she lay across her bed with her head hanging upside-down. It's time to update that and put the "typical teen girl" at her desktop with about a half dozen different IM's going.
But whatever the device, too much time wasted will impact school work and that's where the parental rubber meets the road.
But what am I saying? like she doesn't spend enough time on the computer?! It's hard not to be worried about the time she spends on the 'net. We monitor it somewhat but can't be there over her shoulder all the time. She's a good kid...bright but naive in some ways, completely not either in others. The thing us 21st century parents have got to realize is that the computer is a communication device, the new telephone. The stereotype of the teen girl used to be with the pink princess phone pressed to her ear while she lay across her bed with her head hanging upside-down. It's time to update that and put the "typical teen girl" at her desktop with about a half dozen different IM's going.
But whatever the device, too much time wasted will impact school work and that's where the parental rubber meets the road.
Friday, September 03, 2004
Below; Zell High
What Kerry actually said (in his nomination acceptance speech): "I will never hesitate to use force when it is required. Any attack will be met with a swift and certain response. I will never give any nation or international institution a veto over our national security."
What "democrat" Zell Miller says he heard: "Kerry has made it clear that he would use military force only if approved by the United Nations".
Lies! Lies and misrepresentations and misleading exaggerations and on and on it goes. "But they all do it. Kerry's done it, too, hasn't he?" Well, there have been a few cases of misrepresentations of the Bush administration. This is true. But for every one of the Dems overstatements, we are barraged with 20 outright lies from the right. Go to the Annenberg FactCheck site and see for yourselves.
What "democrat" Zell Miller says he heard: "Kerry has made it clear that he would use military force only if approved by the United Nations".
Lies! Lies and misrepresentations and misleading exaggerations and on and on it goes. "But they all do it. Kerry's done it, too, hasn't he?" Well, there have been a few cases of misrepresentations of the Bush administration. This is true. But for every one of the Dems overstatements, we are barraged with 20 outright lies from the right. Go to the Annenberg FactCheck site and see for yourselves.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Hello?
Okay, file this under "It's probably nothing, but just in case..."
The Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence, our Terran efforts to look beyond ourselves, using millions of personal computers as a huge multiprocessor may, that's may have caught a signal from the Great Out There. I wouldn't say they've got anything definitive and I certainly would not rule out some clever hacker jacking the data, however, just in case this turns out to be something... Well, remember you read it here, folks.
ref.:
Guardian Unlimited | The Guardian | Odd signal from a galaxy far, far away
The Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence, our Terran efforts to look beyond ourselves, using millions of personal computers as a huge multiprocessor may, that's may have caught a signal from the Great Out There. I wouldn't say they've got anything definitive and I certainly would not rule out some clever hacker jacking the data, however, just in case this turns out to be something... Well, remember you read it here, folks.
ref.:
Guardian Unlimited | The Guardian | Odd signal from a galaxy far, far away
Friday, August 27, 2004
On to Plan B...okay, how about Plan C?
It has been said that God does not send us more troubles than we have the strength to bear. I sure wish He didn't have such confidence in me. Madeline's EEG showed multi-focal seizures, not focused locally. She is no longer considered a good candidate for surgery. She will have epilepsy her entire life. Will her learning disabilities continue? worsen? abate? Who knows... The doc wants to introduce a new med: felbatol. It has a slightly jaded history but, according to the doc, those bad cases almost always had some other variable contributing (patient with lupus or some other pre-existing disease). Still, we will of course be monitoring her. And, as is usual with this doc, we'll be introducing the new drug slowly, one-quarter dose for a week followed by a half-dose for a week, followed by three-fourths... The upside is that this drug tends to wake up the patient. Maddy has had to content with sleep issues in class for years and years. She often falls asleep in class. Yes, she sometimes stays up too late, lying in bed for hours in the dark. But there is not always a direct connection with one incident and the other. Rather, it seems that often it is the effort to concentrate, to overcome her disability, that simply exhausts her. Then, too, she could be subconsciously using the sleep as a means of escape. The doctor says that his patients report feeling not only more awake but "better" on this drug--more alert. That is certainly something our daughter needs in school. She can't learn if she is not awake and alert. I'm sure that will also help her moods. She has had many emotional problems--sometimes leading to minor suspensions--which are also impeding her learning and her whole school experience.
I was admittedly hoping that this marathon of coping could finally be headed for an end. That surgery would cure the epilepsy and solve the learning disabilities. Such was not to be the case. This is my little girl and I don't know what to do for her.
I was admittedly hoping that this marathon of coping could finally be headed for an end. That surgery would cure the epilepsy and solve the learning disabilities. Such was not to be the case. This is my little girl and I don't know what to do for her.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
The waiting is the worst part
Today we meet with the doctor to hear his prognosis on the data collected during our daughter's 5-day hospital stay. It has been weighing on me almost constantly. I can understand now, or at least empathize, with those people who seek escape in...whatever. I used to think, "yeah, a little break from the world is nice...keeps me from getting too down and burned out". But I was just thinking about the fun in seeing a summer blockbuster movie or having a few beers around the pool. And while I personally am not into any recreational drugs, I could understand folks who would unwind with them on the weekends from time to time. However, I still had disdain for those who "just can't deal with reality, man". I mean, c'mon, escaping is no solution. You know the problem is still going to be there when you sober up, right?
Damn straight it's going to still be there. That's why I'm coming to understand that mindset now. It's like grief for a loved one. The stress/anxiety becomes a part of you. Every breath is just a bit more constricted. Every movement feels just a bit more heavier. God, I don't want to be here. Escape becomes the solution. But not to the real problem, but to the newer more prominent one: the oppressive stress. Escape relieves stress but it does not negate it. The cause is still there. The image that comes to mind, and it's a silly one, is using an umbrella to deflect the stream of water that someone is aiming at you with a hose. The umbrella relieves you from the wetness, but the real problem--the flow of water--remains. That's what one needs to deal with. But it's just so nice to be dry for while.
The other night I had a dream. I was driving the family along a highway--I-80 toward Auburn, I'd guess--and the car wasn't responding well. I was kind of tired but okay but the steering was getting heavy. I didn't dare let up on the gas because traffic was really clipping along. I remember seeing a Rolls Royce pass us by but it's paint job was really bad--oxidized and blotchy. I pointed it out to the girls; they weren't too impressed. And then I really had to struggle with the steering. I looked down and noticed that the steering wheel had shrunk in diameter to about 8-inches. I remember thinking "Why is this lowrider steering wheel in here? Why would anyone want this in their car? It's too hard to control..." The car wouldn't turn and then we went off the road. We somehow made it across the opposing lanes and went up the hill on the other side. I was screaming; the girls were screaming. We started to roll over...and I woke up.
Pretty clear cut symbolism, I should think. I'm losing control of mine and my family's lives. I'm not properly equipped and not paying attention. The Rolls? Even quality stuff can go to shit if you don't take care of it whether it is a fine car...or a family.
I don't know what I'm going to do if they can't operate. I'm not too sure I'll be too stable during the days leading up to it if they can. But if they can't; if Maddy has to live the rest of her life with epilepsy (which, when you come down to it, is not really all that bad) and with the resulting learning disabilities (the real shitty part), we're going to have to realign our entire future lives. And, even if they can operate there really is not a guarantee that the learning disabilities will dissipate. That's just my assumption, my hope, my prayer.
Damn straight it's going to still be there. That's why I'm coming to understand that mindset now. It's like grief for a loved one. The stress/anxiety becomes a part of you. Every breath is just a bit more constricted. Every movement feels just a bit more heavier. God, I don't want to be here. Escape becomes the solution. But not to the real problem, but to the newer more prominent one: the oppressive stress. Escape relieves stress but it does not negate it. The cause is still there. The image that comes to mind, and it's a silly one, is using an umbrella to deflect the stream of water that someone is aiming at you with a hose. The umbrella relieves you from the wetness, but the real problem--the flow of water--remains. That's what one needs to deal with. But it's just so nice to be dry for while.
The other night I had a dream. I was driving the family along a highway--I-80 toward Auburn, I'd guess--and the car wasn't responding well. I was kind of tired but okay but the steering was getting heavy. I didn't dare let up on the gas because traffic was really clipping along. I remember seeing a Rolls Royce pass us by but it's paint job was really bad--oxidized and blotchy. I pointed it out to the girls; they weren't too impressed. And then I really had to struggle with the steering. I looked down and noticed that the steering wheel had shrunk in diameter to about 8-inches. I remember thinking "Why is this lowrider steering wheel in here? Why would anyone want this in their car? It's too hard to control..." The car wouldn't turn and then we went off the road. We somehow made it across the opposing lanes and went up the hill on the other side. I was screaming; the girls were screaming. We started to roll over...and I woke up.
Pretty clear cut symbolism, I should think. I'm losing control of mine and my family's lives. I'm not properly equipped and not paying attention. The Rolls? Even quality stuff can go to shit if you don't take care of it whether it is a fine car...or a family.
I don't know what I'm going to do if they can't operate. I'm not too sure I'll be too stable during the days leading up to it if they can. But if they can't; if Maddy has to live the rest of her life with epilepsy (which, when you come down to it, is not really all that bad) and with the resulting learning disabilities (the real shitty part), we're going to have to realign our entire future lives. And, even if they can operate there really is not a guarantee that the learning disabilities will dissipate. That's just my assumption, my hope, my prayer.
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Offline longer than expected.
Daughter checked into the hospital for continual EEG observation on Monday. It was expected to be a three day stay, possibly as long as five days. She just came home today. The doctor has not yet seen the data from Wednesday & Thursday where she got a pronounced fearful feeling and eventually threw up--this is her typical siezure nowadays. From what he saw on Monday & Tuesdays data did not show any siezure activity, just some "pre-cursor spikes" while she slept. The potential bad news is that those spikes were multi-focal, meaning from many areas of the brain. If that is the nature of her epilepsy, surgery becomes far less likely a curative. However, those may be secondary spikes...and, as I said, he has yet to review the really pertinent data.
But she is home now and life can return to normal once more. That is until Monday when the wife starts work again. (She was laid off but we just got word that she was re-hired last week.)
But she is home now and life can return to normal once more. That is until Monday when the wife starts work again. (She was laid off but we just got word that she was re-hired last week.)
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