More Global Nomad

I am cold and tired and miserable and stuck in the Las Vegas Airport for several more minutes. I am in this predicament because my flight from Grand Junction to Phoenix was 30 minutes late (not sure why, since when I checked in, I was told that it was On Time) taking off, so I missed my connecting flight to Fresno. I had to get a flight from PHX to Vegas, and then wait around to get a red-eye to FAT, after which I'll have to drive home in the dead of early morning. I have bitter hatred for America West. I have traveled all over the world, in third-world countries, what have you, in conditions most of you probably cannot even imagine, and never* have I had such horrible airline experiences as I've suffered in the past month. I'm writing America West/US Air a nasty note, and may choose to boycott them if they don't put forth their very best effort to make things right.

I told Jeff that I can't imagine what sins I've committed, to be receiving such hefty karmic retribution. It's a bummer that I can't even remember them; they were probably fun and exciting.

Oops, time to board. At least there is free wireless internet in this airport.

*Exception being that one hour or so in Heathrow in January 2003, but at least it was over quickly, and I had my winter coat and my Jeffrey to keep me warm.

ICE ICE BABY

Dear Airport Management: Sorry, but I forgot to bring my PARKA. Did you notice that it is JUNE and you are in a DESERT?! Maybe you should keep with tradition and be HOT instead of FRIGID. Look into it.

Hey, folks, remember the ice planet Hoth in The Empire Strikes Back? That is what the Las Vegas Airport is like. They have the air conditioning pumped up to a level that even large self-heated people would consider chilly; for a Reynauds sufferer like myself, it is ghastly.

I keep expecting the Abominable Snowman to come sauntering into the waiting area...

Rocky Mountain High

Greetings again from the Global Nomad. I have not yet finished chronicling my previous adventures, and here I am on yet another.

I'm in Colorado. Grand Junction, to be specific. I flew in this afternoon. The flight from Phoenix to Grand Junction was, by the way, the most turbulent one I've ever experienced in the US. I'm so blase about it, though. I always tell myself, "No matter how bad it seems, I've been through worse!" All those years of flying in helicopters, single-prop planes, and goodness knows what they had with Merpati, have definitely provided me with a high tolerance for turbulent air travel.

And speaking of Merpati, I have to say that the Grand Junction airport is probably smaller than even Rendani in Sowi. They seriously have only two baggage claim carousels, and there is no monitor or marquee to mark which flight's baggage is on them. Not that it matters, since there are probably no more than two flights in at any given time, so all a passenger must do is go stand between them and glance side-to-side until his/her baggage is clearly in view.

In summary: Today, I have traveled several hundred miles, completed two crosswords and two sudoku puzzles, and posted on my blog.

Sorry I'm not home right now

I'm walking into spider webs...

Or bears' dens or snakes' lairs.

That's right, I'm going camping. I loathe camping, for many good reasons which I may or may not reveal. The only good aspects of camping are (1) the camp fire and (2) the s'mores. In fact, Jeff persuaded me to go only by telling me that I could be in charge of the fire. Warms my little pyromaniacal heart.

I'm still taking my laptop, but I won't have internet access. *sigh* I'll miss you all. *mwa mwa* Bye!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

A very happy birthday to Firefly cutie Jewel Staite, who is 24 today!
Blogger wouldn't let me load pictures, for some reason, today. So, see Jewel here.

We watched X-Men: The Last Stand on Monday. I loathed it. The best thing I can say about it is that I hated it less than The Fantastic Four. Jeff didn't like it, either, and he says it's because of the director. I think it was just a bad script.

But I found out something: I have my own superhero! One of the mutant people was named Kitty (which is, of course, an alternate spelling of my nickname Kiti), so I looked her up, and she is a popular X-men character, Kitty Pryde, also known as Shadowcat. At last, I have my own superhero with whom to identify. Heheh.

Which leads me to ask, Dear Readers: If you were a superhero, what would your powers be, and what would you name your superpowered alter ego?

The Amazing True Adventures of the Global Nomad

As promised, the chronicle of my travels to Minneapolis. The following story is true. Not even the names have been changed to protect the innocent, primarily because nobody in the story is particularly innocent. Warning: It is long.

It started on Mothers' Day. The Day of Mothers dawned bright and fair in Visalia. Jeff and I arose and went to church; Jeff had some hearty handshakes, while I skillfully and sullenly avoided any real contact with people (I was forced to shake hands during the “greet” section of the service—I consider such activity highly inappropriate, by the way—but I didn’t smile while doing it, so it doesn’t count, right?) and reflected on the fact that the Christian flag was partially hidden by the left end of the stage, while the US flag was in full sight on the right. WTF? Well, as my dad always says, “Never ascribe to malice what can be adequately accounted for by stupidity.”
We picked up Debbie at her house, and went up to the mountains (Sequioa Park, to exact), because that is what she said she wanted to do. It was actually very nice. The weather was warm enough for me to wear a tank top, but not too warm for comfort. We drove into the park (after purchasing a year entry pass to the park for $30, when just the one day cost $20), and climbed Moro Rock. It was good exercise, and I always enjoy a nice big rock. The sad thing is that all the fun parts of the rock are beyond the railings that have been erected, and Jeff will not allow me to clamber around on the so-called “dangerous” sections. *sulk sulk* Actually, I’m smart enough to know when to climb on big steep rocks, and when to leave well enough alone: it’s called risk management, people, and it’s the main reason why I’m still alive after some decades of playing with fire, fording through leech-and-schistosome-infested waters, and leaping about on boulders like a mountain goat. You gotta know which risks to take, and which to leave well enough alone. Moro Rock, beyond boundaries, is a leave-alone. So says the Kiti Fantastico. Aside from the constrictive rails, Moro Rock is very fun because they have informative placard things along the stairs, so you can stop and read about the geology and flora and fauna of the park. Since I know far more about tropical rainforests than sequoia redwood forests, and since I love reading informative placards, I had great fun with beautiful scenery, and cracking jokes with Debbie and Jeff.
When you climb up a rock, you must climb back down, and so we did. Then we drove around the park some more, but I must confess that I just don’t like trees as much as I like rocks, so I wasn’t too enthused about doing any more hiking. Debbie likes dogwood trees, and she is, of course, an amateur botanist, so I would imagine she likes the forest qua forest, whereas I consider it worthwhile mostly as a setting for big rocks to climb. After Debbie and Jeff took some pictures of a blooming dogwood (while I sat in the car and read In Style magazine, because I’d already encountered Nature for the day, thank you very much), we drove back down through Three Rivers (the water is high, due to the precipitation of the winter, which is apparently now melting out and running off in the streams and rivers) and got ice cream and candy at Reimers. I think the candy is overpriced, but the ice cream is fabulous. Mmmmm. Then we dropped Debbie at home, and went to enjoy some of the Netflix that we’d finally gotten—Angel. As we were settling in for a restful evening, the phone rang.
It was Frank (my boss, FYI). There was an crisis situation with a mission in Minnesota: Dave, who was scheduled to go, and had actually traveled as far as Las Vegas, had a medical emergency, and was in a hospital there. Alice couldn’t go because of a family situation. I, the untested one, the virgin solo trainer, was our only hope. *gulp* The mission started on Monday morning, 8:00 Central Time. It was just before 7:30 pm on Sunday evening, Pacific Time. Could I go?
Well, I decided that I could, even if it meant leaving my Jeffrey and my Netflix behind, and venturing to unfamiliar territory without having even done training with a shadow for backup. I got off the phone, and started throwing stuff into a duffle bag, while suddenly going into unaccustomed panic mode. Jeff took me down to the office, where Frank had some paperwork, the laptop, and my manuals ready to go, and we zipped up to the Fresno airport. It was tense, since my America West flight was supposed to leave at 9:15 pm. I wasn’t too scared about missing the flight, though. Frank drove really fast.
Long story short, I made my flight to Vegas, although there was some interesting drama at the check-in/ticket counter. The man in front of me in line took a long time dealing with his issue: he had a gun, and had a permit to carry it, but apparently he just didn’t have the proper container for it. There was a prolonged discussion:
Man: I’ve never had a problem carrying it before.
Ticket agent: I’m sorry, but these are regulations. You have to get a proper lockable container.
Man: But there are no bullets in it! It can’t be fired anyway.
Ticket agent: Let me get you the container with an approved lock.
Etc. etc. etc.
I told the agent, “I have to get on flight XXXX to Las Vegas.”
He said, “Don’t worry. I’ll get you on.”
So I was pretty sure I had a good chance. When he finally checked me in, he noted that my ID did not match my ticket name (ID still in maiden name)—not a big deal, but he marked me for an extra security search by placing some esses on my boarding pass, saying, “If I mark you ahead of time, they will search you, but they won’t give you a hard time about your ID, since they’ll know that I’ve already checked it. If I let you through, they might stop you at the security checkpoint, and it might be harder to get through, then.”
I didn’t care if they made me tap dance and sing “Moon River” at the security checkpoint, as long as I made my flight, so it was all good. I gave a quick call to Frank, who was standing by just in case I didn’t make the flight, and told him that I’d checked in and was good to go. I apologized for the delay, and hollered something about a man with a gun, which probably sounded alarming without context, but then I had to hang up quickly, as I reached the security line. When I got to the metal detector gate, sure enough, they pulled me aside and told me, “You’ve been randomly selected for an extra security screening.” Hilarious! I didn’t care about being searched, since the most dangerous thing in my bag was a book that might cause paper cuts, but I thought it was ridiculous for them to tell me the search was “random”. The ticket agent told me it was going to happen, as he marked SSSS on my boarding pass, to intentionally trigger the search. NOTE TO TSA: Most people may be as stupid as you think they are, but some of us are not. Do us the courtesy of giving us some credit. Sheesh.
Anyway. I boarded the plane after most of the other passengers, but they weren’t even close to closing the door, and gun guy (who was, on top of everything else, wearing a wild Hawaiian print shirt) got on the plane after me, so it was all good. Then, we waited and waited to take off, because there was some sort of delay, and we didn’t get off the ground till nearly 30 minutes after we were scheduled. And we had this crazy flight attendant named Doris, who seriously seemed as if she didn’t know what she was doing. When she read little safety lecture, she kept taking looong pauses, and stumbling over words. It was a little bit frightening.
I like landing in Las Vegas at night: the city is all lit up, and from a height, you can’t tell that it is trashy and dirty. I looked especially for the Luxor, and spotted it: the pyramid with this huge upward-facing searchlight. I don’t know why it was so important for me to see it; maybe I’m just easily attracted to shiny things.
When we landed, we were more than half an hour late, so I had to book it from my terminal to my connecting flight. I was leaving from some terminal way out on the edge of the LV airport, I think, because I had to take a tram thingie and rush along a corridor to get to my gate, only to discover that… my connecting flight had just taken off! OH, NO, YOU DI’N’T!!! There was a Supremely Uninterested and Unhelpful Airline Employee to tell me, and another passenger (who I recognized from being on the flight from Fresno), that we were just out of luck.
Me: I HAVE to get to Minneapolis by 8 am, their time.
Other Guy: Me, too!
SUAUAE: The next flight to Minneapolis leaves at 6 am.
Me: But we missed our flight because YOUR airline was late taking off. It wasn’t our fault! You have to accommodate us.
SUAUAE: We don’t have any more flights going to Minneapolis tonight. Sorry.
Me and the Other Guy: Then get us a flight on another airline.
SUAUAE: There is a Northwest flight to Minneapolis. You can try to get that.
Me: Oh, believe me, I’ll be on it.
At this point, you may well believe, I was just bound and determined to get to Minneapolis. It would have been too ridiculous for TWO of us trainers to be stranded in Vegas. I thought about calling Frank, but decided that he was counting on me, and I was going to not bother him until I absolutely had to. I took the tram back to the main airport area, and asked for directions to the Northwest Air counter. The Other Guy followed me, since he didn’t know how to get there, but was genetically incapable of asking for directions.
I marched up to the NWA counter and told them my tale of woe. There was this crazy ticket counter guy (named Bill) who was very helpful yet couldn’t work his computer, so he had to keep asking other people to do stuff for him; however, with the help of other employees, he worked his mojo and got me one of the last seats on the NWA flight to Minneapolis. Yes! I’d lost track of the Other Guy, though, so I don’t know if he got on or not. The flight left Las Vegas at 1 am, so I went to the waiting area to just, well, wait. I had to go back through a security gate, of course, and I was yet again selected for a “random” extra security check. I told them I didn’t care, as long as I made my flight.
I was able to snooze on the plane, fortunately, so I had a few hours of sleep when the flight touched down in MSP (Minneapolis-Saint Paul) airport. It was 6 am, and I had two hours to claim my luggage, freshen up in the airport bathroom, grab a taxi, and arrive like a perky daisy at the client site. There was only one flaw in my plan: While I made it to Minneapolis, my luggage did not. Seriously.
I went to the luggage claim and waited for a long time, but my duffel bag never came around. Hmm. I went to the NWA luggage counter, but there was no one there. I waited for more than half an hour, along with a few other irate customers. No one came. A sign by the counter gave a number to call for help with lost luggage. I called the number (I am nothing if not proactive that way), and they told me to go to the luggage counter, since they couldn’t help me if I didn’t have a lost luggage claim number or some such thing, and of course, I had to get a lost luggage claim form from the lost luggage counter. I told them, “There is NO ONE AT THE LUGGAGE COUNTER.” They said, “There must be; they start at 4:30 am.” However, since I was standing right there and not seeing anyone at the luggage counter, they finally advised me to go up to the Northwest Air check-in counter and talk to someone there. Aha! I knew there had to be a real live person at the check-in counter. After a conversation with an employee there, I was (predictably) told to go to America West (after all, they had checked my luggage in Fresno); equally predictably, America West sent me back to NWA, as I had a luggage transfer document that had been given to me by NWA’s Bill back in Las Vegas. NWA, still unable to deal with their own problems, sent me back downstairs to the luggage counter. I told them, “There is NO ONE AT THE LUGGAGE COUNTER.” NWA guy: “There must be. They start really early in the morning. Let me give them a call.” He called downstairs to check. Surprise, surprise, there was no answer at the luggage counter phone. He told me to go down anyway, and I don’t blame him, since he was the check-in counter guy, trying to handle checking people in on a busy Monday morning. But seriously, when I said, “There is no one at the luggage counter,” why wouldn’t people believe me? I don’t understand.
What could I do? I went back down the escalator to the luggage area. This was the only time during my trip that I came close to tears. I made myself snap out of it, reminding myself, “Honestly, Deb, this is not even close to the worst you’ve had it. Think of Heathrow in January 2003.” Anyway. So there I was at the luggage counter. The other irate lost-luggage customers were still there. Finally, a NWA employee came to the counter and said, “Oh, sorry. We had two people call in sick this morning, and only just now realized it.” Idiots. And I bet they get away with it because they’re union. Idiots. But the long and the short of it was that my luggage just hadn’t arrived yet in MSP. The Idiot Luggage Counter Guy could track it, thanks to my luggage claim ticket and luggage transfer document, so he assured me that it would arrive later that day. *sigh* I gave him my hotel address, so that they could drop off my bag when it came, and made it clear that I expected it by evening.
Now, bear in mind, Dear Reader, that I really, really needed my bag. I really, really needed some deodorant and a toothpaste/toothbrush combo. I had spent the previous afternoon hiking among the Sequoias, and had not had the chance to shower, change, or even brush my teeth since then. I was still wearing the clothes I’d worn. I looked neither fresh nor attractive.
Well, I had to do without deo or a toothbrush. Fortunately, I nearly always carry a brush and some makeup in my purse, so I had those to work with. Furthermore, I had a packet of gum. Score! I splashed water on my face, patted it dry, and applied some makeup in order to look a little less corpse-like, then brushed out my hair, all while chomping furiously on some wintergreen-flavored gum. Luckily, I am not prone to sweatiness or smelliness, so my scent was mostly influenced by that distinctive sun-block odor, but I still felt a little self-conscious. And I was wearing jeans, a tank top, and a casual sweater. On my first-ever solo training mission. With a very large and prominent client company.
Oh, well. What could I do? I made myself as ready as I could, then went out to find a taxi. Airports are usually good, in that they have approved (i.e. safe and fairly honest) taxi companies available, so I was able to catch a ride to downtown Minneapolis. The driver was nice enough (Arabic, if I don’t miss my guess), and even with my misadventures and morning traffic, I was only 10 minutes late to the client site!
Frank had called ahead and notified the client of the change in plans, so my contact (Thom) was very kind and generous to me. I was able to get set up and get the training done, despite network problems and the fact that the client wanted only certain specific things to be taught. No problem, as I was able to accommodate very well.
Naturally, by the end of the day, I was very tired. Conveniently, my hotel was basically across the street from the client site, so I just walked over. When I arrived, my bag was waiting for me at the front desk! Such a sweet reunion! Of course, it couldn’t be all happy: there were some difficulties with authorizing the credit card for the hotel room (due to the fact that it was a company card), but they were resolved, thanks to the fabulous team at my company. Suffice to say that I’d had quite enough adventures to fill my past 24 hours.
I called Jeff and then Mum (I said, “It’s 6 pm in California. Do you know where your daughter is?” Heheh.). Special thanks to Jeff for being such a good sport about letting me go traipsing off to middle America on 30 minutes’ notice!

So there you have it. There is more, naturally, for how could one visit historic Minneapolis without a few more stories? But those will have to wait.

Seven days without blogging makes one week.

I didn't blog for a week, just to see if I could.

I've been home, but busy.

Monday, I almost passed out at work. I was sitting in my chair at my desk, and the room suddenly did an impression of a tilt-a-whirl.

Um, that's all. I'm still working on typing up the story of traveling to Minneapolis.

Peek-a-boo!

Hey, all! I'm just seizing a moment to drop you a line from the hotel business center (the 24-hour business center was hidden behind the 8:30-4:30 business center). It's my last night in Minneapolis. Yes, that's right. I'm in Minnesota. That's why I haven't been updating for the past few days.

Have I got a tale for you! It'll have to wait till next time, though.

Televeezhun

For reasons involving our cable internet having problems and the cable guy being unable to fix it earlier in the week, we've actually had TV (broadcast plus some cable channels). Thus, we've been totally trashy and watching TV for hours since Tuesday; it's been all Law & Order, all the time. The cable guy is coming tomorrow, so the TV will go away, and while it's been fun, I'm glad, because I'm getting a bit tired of seeing so much crime and evilness. Yeesh.

Let's see. In other news, I heard the weirdest song on the radio (103.3), by the name of "Ape Call".

I've been struggling a lot with insomnia. I'm not sure if it's the change in the weather, or the fact that it's staying lighter later and later into the night, or what. I've been inflicted with insomnia for more than a decade. It sucks to be so tired all the time, but I'm trying to cope.

Unfavorites

MOST HATED...
FRUIT: Durian. Something that I might find in the US? Mango.
CANDY: Black licorice.
BEVERAGE: Beer. Or Dr Pepper.
COLOR: Orange. (Sorry, Debbie!)
TOWN/CITY: Hmm. Wow. The least favorite place I've ever lived was Wheaton, IL.
TV SHOW: Reality shows or talk shows. Tacky and boring.
MOVIE: The first one that springs to mind is Pearl Harbor. I hated it so much, I couldn't even finish watching it.
ASPECT OF MYSPACE: The interface is so ugly. It's even uglier when people customize their sites. Ugh. I loathe MySpace.
ASPECT OF INSTANT MESSENGER: I like IM. Got nothing against it.
ANIMAL: Cows are smelly.
INSECT: Mosquitoes changed my life for the worse, what with chronic malaria and all. Cockroaches are just nasty.
BIRD: I dunno. A crow, maybe?
SEASON: Autumn or winter. I hate being cold.
AGE OF KIDS: Any age before they're old enough to have intelligent, interesting conversations.

WHAT ANNOYS YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING WHEN...
DRIVING? People who leave their blinkers on, but don't merge or turn. A close second: Big vans of illegal immigrant farm workers, driven slowly but erratically, threatening the safety of everyone else on the road.
TALKING ON THE PHONE: I just don't like talking on the phone, anyway.
WATCHING TV OR MOVIES: When the characters are illogical, and it drives me crazy because I have to figure out how to reconcile everything, and I end up saying, "Jeff, I don't understaaaaaaand!"
EATING IN RESTAURANTS: When the menu fails to mention certain ingredients (like mushrooms or tomatoes) in a dish that I order.
GOING THROUGH DRIVE-THRUS: When one orders, and then is told, "Sorry, we're out of that item. What can I get you instead?" Well, I wanted that item. If you list it on your menu, you should sell it.
YOU'RE AT THE MALL: All the ugly outfits in the store windows.
SLEEPING (OR TRYING TO SLEEP): The fact that I have to sleep. I'd rather be awake and doing things.
YOU'RE AT THE BEACH: It's cold and windy, and sand gets in your eyes and mouth and hair and everywhere...
YOU'RE AT THE GROCERY STORE: When the store is out of the item I want.
COOKING OR BAKING: When I follow the recipe, and it gets ruined anyway.

WHAT HOUSEHOLD CHORE DO YOU HATE THE MOST? Cleaning the litter box.
WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD BE THE ABSOLUTE WORST WAY TO DIE? By doing something stupid, that was totally my fault.
WHAT'S THE MOST ANNOYING HABIT IN OTHERS? Not taking my very wise advice.
WHAT IS YOUR WORST HABIT? Eating junk food and refusing to work out.
WHAT FASHION TREND (PAST OR PRESENT)? Anything from the 1980s.
WHAT POPULAR SONG (PAST OR PRESENT) HAVE YOU HATED THE MOST? Anything by the Black Eyed Peas.
WORST OR MOST HATED PICKUP LINE: Can't think of any.
WORST THING ABOUT HIGH SCHOOL: High schoolers.
MOST IRRITATING THING ABOUT YOUR CAR: So glad you asked. There's that whole demon car alarm thing, when the alarm goes off for no particular reason.

TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT GUYS? The fact that many of them use their penises rather than their brains to make decisions.

TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT GIRLS? For some reason, a lot of girls seem to be driven more by emotion than by logic. I don't understand.

Home again, home again

Last night, I drove back up to V-town with the Warrior Princess. I had my first day of real training on Tuesday, so it was an important day. Overall, it went very well.

Today was business as usual.

I can't really think of anything interesting to say.

Traveling

Well, here I am in sunny (ha!) southern California. I drove down with Alice (aka Warrior Princess, aka WP) last night, and we started up with training this morning.

But back to the weekend. Friday evening, Jeff planned to go to a Halo party at church, so I made plans of my own. I arranged to go over to Debbie and Jerry's house, where we watched Mean Girls while I sorted my Israel photos. It was very enjoyable. I saw a lot of Debbie's garden, too, and it looks very nice right now.

Saturday morning, we woke up and went to the library book sale, which is something we often enjoy. We didn't eat breakfast (we're stupid that way, even though we know it's a bad idea), so we were starving, and had to find something to eat downtown. After that, we went to some stores, and then returned home. We had found out that there was a performance of Sleeping Beauty at the local community theater (their last for the season), so we bought tickets on a whim (at $7 per ticket, it's cheaper than a movie) and went out for an evening at the theater (after having dinner at a yummy Thai place). We really enjoyed it, even if it was a bit cheesy, since it turned out that it was really geared for young children. We need to remember to pay attention to the various arts opportunities in Visalia; apparently there are a few community theater groups, not to mention musical things happen on a regular basis. Even in the Central Valley, though, it's not necessarily inexpensive to go to more local entertainment. Grr.
Anyway, since our play was for children, it ended by 8:30 pm. We decided to make a night of it, and upon returning home, watched the movie Go. I wasn't sure what to make of it, at first, but found myself enjoying it when I finally identified it as a very dark comedy.

We went to the 10:30 church service, then ate lunch and picked up my rental car for the trip down south. After napping and packing in the afternoon, it was time for me to go out, pick up Alice from her house, and drive down to Orange County (our hotel is just a few miles from where I used to live).

We did important stuff today, then ate dinner, and met up with my family (Dad and Mum, Dan and Mia) and a few friends (Elizabeth, the Winters) at Capriccio Gelato Caffe. Once again, let me urge you all to patronize this establishment, if you live in the area. It is delicious and authentic Italian gelato, conveniently located in the Amerige Heights shopping center. A filling little dish of ice cream costs about the same amount as a drink from Starbucks, but is more exotic. It's a great place to meet friends and enjoy life.

Now, I am in the hotel room, about to shower and go to bed. I have my first experience training with an actual customer tomorrow. Yeek! Love to all.

Times

I am doing better tonight than I was last night. A reliable source informed me that the annoying parent with whom I had issues is just prone to being difficult and paranoid. I'm guessing the problem isn't so much with me, then. I can let it go.

This morning, at work, my friend/co-worker Tara noted that I was tired and stressed, and asked me what was going on. I told her about the parent-teacher issue, and she said, "I know exactly what you mean!" Of course she does. Tara teaches dance classes at a local studio. She has to deal with pushy dance moms. Often. Lots of them. All at one time. Suddenly, my little problem didn't seem so bad at all...

So anyway, I worked hard at getting battle-ready at work. I'm going down to shadow some training in Orange County next week. I'll be there Monday and Tuesday. If folks want to get together on one of the evenings (though not too late on Tuesday), maybe we can gather at some place like The Block or Downtown Disney. You can meet my fun-loving friend/co-worker Alice, too.

I made pizzarillas (pizzas made on tortilla crust) for supper, and then managed to wash the dishes and tidy a lot of the kitchen. Now, Jeff is playing Halo, and I'm finishing my blog and then going to work on sorting a few more pictures for the Israel scrapbook.

Nearly forgot to post this!

It is 04/05/06!!!

Ugh

Remember when I was so happy and excited because I was able to tutor a student in math? Well, said student really made progress, but because I was essentially starting from ground zero in geometry skills, it was pretty challenging to cover a lot of basic information in a few hours. The student made progress. I found out recently, however, that the student did not pass the test for which we were preparing. Well, I did my best and fulfilled my contractual obligations, so I didn't worry about it too much, but when the student's parent contacted me with some more math issues, I tried to be helpful, so I offered a list of suggestions for possible reasons for the failure, and things to do to address them. Since I don't know a lot about the student's history and situation, I mentioned a variety of possibilities. I honestly tried to be tactful and helpful.
I got a moderately angry reply from the parent, telling me that I shouldn't make assumptions, and had no right to say what I did, etc. etc. etc. Well, if my suggestions are unhelpful, I don't care if people disregard them, and/or just don't want to look into them. It's a free country, and I willingly gave free advice (didn't charge them for my time), so it doesn't offend me if people don't like my suggestions. It's difficult to actually offend me, believe it or not. It is, however, quite easy to annoy me, and it annoys me when people go off half-cocked. I never made absolute statements, or told the parent that such-and-such HAD to be done, so I thought it was clear that my suggestions were just that: suggestions. Yeesh.
I sent back what I think is a nicely worded, diplomatic note that offers reasons why I said some of the things that I did (and had made one unwarranted assumption, so I admitted to it), and emphasized that my intent was to be helpful, and if my suggestions were not applicable or helpful, they could and should be freely disregarded. Maybe I didn't adequately communicate the casualness of my suggestions in my first e-mail, so I tried to emphasize them in the second. I think the fact that I consider certain things to be obvious and logical might occasionally become a problem when they are not obvious and logical to others. Have I ever mentioned that I SUCK at dealing with people? It is not really that I'm thoughtless; it's mostly because it just doesn't occur to me that people won't read between the lines of my dry written communication, or that they will be more in tune with their feelings than their (or their children's) grasp of y=mx+b or the Pythagorean theorem.
But if I ever become one of those uptight homeschool mothers who think that everyone is out to get me, you have my permission to lock me in a room and throw volumes of Plato at me until I come to my senses.
And if I live many more years and still suck at dealing with people, you should likewise lock me in a room and throw volumes of Plato at me.
Well, you know what? I still love teaching math, and I know I'm good at it. Everything else, as the saying goes, is just details.

Lucky? Hmmm.

It was lovely to spend so much time with my mum and sister last weekend. They have so many amazing and admirable qualities that I lack, and it's good for me to be around them, to try and acquire at least a veneer of goodness and kindness. But I have to think that in some areas, I won the genetic lottery in my family.

If you are single and male, stop reading now. I mean it.

I don't have particularly strong girl hormones. I don't have much pain with cramps, and I handle it all quite well. I have been blithely and relatively unaffected by such matters ever since, well, I was old enough potentially be affected by them. I remember feeling such pity for all those girls in my dorm, who screamed in pain and took special medication when their periods would come. I felt pity, but I didn't really understand.
Well, this past weekend, we were discussing something regarding weight gain, including birth control weight and all that fun stuff (yes, I can eat whatever I want and still remain on the slender side, but even I have some excess flab from birth control), and the other poor ladies in my family have turned out to be afflicted with much more female pain and stuff than I ever have. Sparing everyone the details, let me just say that I learned something new about human biology. Mom and Mia both complained about "mid pains". Huh? Never heard of them.
Mom: And the worst part is that you have cramps in the middle of your cycle, too.
Me: Huh? What are you talking about?
Mom: You know, the mid pains, when you cramp while ovulating.
Me: Huh? What are you talking about?
Mia: Yeah, the pain is more intense, because it's concentrated more around your ovaries. So it's like, the cramps and pain don't really stop, all month long.
Me: Huh? What are you talking about?
Mom: You don't get mid pains? You don't get cramps in the middle of your cycle?
Me: No, I've never heard of this. What are you talking about?
Mom: Some women get intense cramping in the middle of the month. It happens when your body is moving the egg from the ovaries.
Me: Oh, quit it. You're pulling my leg. I've studied human biology and the human reproductive cycle. There's nothing about any of this in my biology books.
Mom and Mia: Those biology books were written by men!
Well, I went and looked it up on the internet, and it's on all the reputable medical websites. It really does exist, and it even has a technical name (in German): mittelschmerz. How is it that I've been a girl for nearly 3 decades, and I've never heard of such a thing till now?!
So, anyway, I'm guessing that maybe I don't ovulate regularly. How weird is that? [And how weird is it that I can talk about stuff like this on my blog? Well, I'm a biologist at heart. It doesn't bother me.] I'm probably just less fertile than either my mom was or my sister will be. I think it's so interesting that the same combination of genetic material (my mom's and my dad's) turned out two such different end results: my sister and me.
Mia takes after the Kalen (paternal grandmother) side, physically, with darker skin and brown hair; she is naturally athletic, as befits the daughter of healthy Scandinavian immigrant stock. Mia is sensitive, artistic, and compassionate. She wants lots of babies, and she is ideally suited to bear and nurture them.
I take after our mom with my face shape and coloring; I am built like a dancer, with compact torso but long limbs, and not a lot of muscle. I am introspective, sarcastic, and (I hope) logical: a scientist or scholar to the core. I appreciate babies (and I appreciate the fact that other people have them), but don't really want one of my own, since cats are doing well for me right now, and I'd rather have a career (yes, I like books better than babies; deal with it). Pretty much the only thing that Mia and I have in common is our X chromosome!
Way to go with sorting out the genetic probabilities, Mom and Dad!

Moving along

I had a good day at work, but I thought that things moved a little slowly. Oh, well.

Today, we got a new girl, who will be doing sales and business development stuff, so we all went out to lunch. It was fun, and there was a discussion about the fact that the solutions specialists are being given call signs. Heehee. Dave is Mad Max (the Road Warrior: he travels a lot), Alice is the Warrior Princess, Keith is Chong, and I am (wait for it) The Professor. Fun! Now I must become erudite and elite in my excellence.

Anyway, well, Mom and Mia left early yesterday afternoon. I had a lazy Sunday afternoon, and then went to Bible study at church. It was okay, although the people in it seem to be rather immature and excessively silly. My former Bible study (at Grace in Long Beach) was full of serious, intense, and educated people (three Talbot people, one of the church elders, some other serious and intelligent people), with ages ranging from mid-twenties to mid-forties. I think I'm just more accustomed to that sort of environment, so I'll have to learn to adapt to the new Bible study.

Jeff came home tonight, so we're watching Voyager. =)

Zero Tolerance

Okay, I'm announcing a new zero tolerance policy toward stupidity. Stupid people and stupid ideas make me tired, and they destroy society and civilization as we currently know it. The problem with the US today is that it is geared to pander to the lowest common denominator, and boy, are there a lot of people in that category. I, for one, refuse to tolerate it any more. I am waging an all-out war against stupidity.

Jeff encouraged me to begin this policy, as he hears me being repeatedly amazed that stupid people are allowed so much credibility in this society. People are allowed to get away with presenting arguments, in national media, that are illogical and irrelevant. How did this happen? Why does no one challenge such things? When did the accepted national language of the US cease to be English and become instead irrational insipidity?

Today is the day that, so it is reported, illegal immigrants will boycott work in order to show that they are vital to the workforce, etc. [Hint to employers: If your employee(s) did not show up to work today, you might want to check into immigration status.] This whole ILLEGAL immigration bill thing has been much in the news lately, of course, and I've just been waiting and expecting it to all blow over. Despite my low faith in human nature, I've been assuming that eventually, logical application of God-given intelligence will prevail, and people will stop being stupid and start looking at reality and approaching the issue to find some viable and lawful solutions. Jeff finally disabused me of this notion: "People are going to just keep being stupid, Deb," he said. "They're not going to suddenly start using their brains, and there are some people who are actively trying to keep them from it, because having sway over a large group of stupid people is a powerful position." ["Get all the fools on your side, and you can be elected to anything." -Frank Dane.] Wow. So depressing. I have read so much nonsense on the issue, and people persist in emphasizing non-essentials in an effort to hide essentials: Vis., there is much nattering about the bill being aimed at immigrants (which is true, but not the whole truth), and everyone apparently flaps their hands around, and forgets that the keyword in this debate is ILLEGAL. A moderately well-known film actor of Colombian descent supports the protests and boycotts, and stated in a news article that it's ridiculous for people to be called criminals simply because they are immigrants. Well, of course that is true, but it is not ridiculous for people to be called criminals if they are found to be ILLEGAL immigrants. Because they are illegal, i.e. not legal, i.e. against the law. Nobody has anything against LEGAL immigrants. They are always welcome. Seriously, pretty much everyone (including me) in the US is an immigrant or a descendant of immigrants.

The primary problem here, however, is not semantics, when one gets right down to it, though. The primary problem is that people get caught up in the emotion of rhetoric (or, apparently this is true; I'm not one for emotional response to rhetoric, so all my reports on this phenomenon are second-hand), and fail to be consistent, to follow through and see the ramifications of their ideas and decisions.

For example, in the interest of being consistent and honest, are illegal immigrants, while protesting by avoiding the work that most of them reportedly came to this country (illegally) to do, going to also boycott those services which they so freely (and illegally) abuse? Are they going to remove children from the classroom, refuse to go to hospitals for medical treatment, and otherwise cease to take advantage of social welfare? No? Hmmm, how half-hearted and half-brained of them.

And if such protests, half-hearted and half-brained though they may be, still prove to sway public thought, what then? Why not take such behavior to the next logical step? Why shouldn't other people with illegal activities band together and demand special rights? I'm thinking that shoplifters ought to get together and boycott something, to demand recognition of their rights as human beings, and form special action groups to really fight any further restrictions legislators would seek to put on petty theft, and try to put legal limits on punishments for such actions. It's not out of line to expect that the Shoplifters Coalition (for so I shall dub them) will soon be so powerful that elected officials begin to pander to them, and the Coalition turn their attention to reversing those harsh anti-theft laws. They will argue that the American dream should be available to everyone, and stealing good and services is an acceptable way of achieving it. Why not? If illegal immigrants are allowed to steal goods and services, and get away with it, why shouldn't other groups be allowed to do it, too?

Think about it. THINK. Then encourage just one person per day to THINK. Together, we can start a mini-revolution of non-stupidity.

"Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped."
-Elbert Hubbard

Oh, yes, and one more note. This is international Labor Day. The nonsensical brouhaha in the United States is obscuring some very real problems that other workers have in other nations. For shame, protestors! You claim that you want freedom and workers' rights, yet you are demonstrating only a selfish desire to live lawlessly and detract from the sacrifices of others. Workers (who are, incidentally, legal residents of the countries in which they reside) in Indonesia, Sri Lanka, the Philippines, Bangladesh, Cambodia, and other nations, are seeking better working conditions and higher pay, and their voices deserve to be heard. So quiet the clamor and be logical.

Now beyond fig leaves

It has been a longish day, and rather warm. All three of us slept downstairs in the living room (a sort of campout), and then we slowly awoke and got into our day. We discovered, by the way, that Hobbes and Touchy had discovered Grandma Willow's knitting bag during the night, and they had dragged one of her Knitting Guild Level 3 sample thingies across the floor, dislodged the knitting needles, and snarled up the yarn. *sigh* We had planned to do several things, including shopping at Joanns and checking out some bridal shops. First, however, we elected to go to Mavericks Coffee (Debbie met us there), which is a highly atmospheric cowboy-themed coffee shop on the south side of town. Their drinks are pretty good, and I like to hang out there because they have all these old Western movie posters (mostly B-level films, but still full of recognizable names) and authentic autographed photos of old Western stars. All the greats are there, including John Wayne, James Stewart, Roy Rogers, Randolph Scott, James Garner, and even my favorite old movie actor of all time, Joel McCrea (they laughed at me when I got my picture taken with his photo; yes, I'm a fangirl). They also have scores of other, less well-known (I saw one that even I had never heard of before: Lash La Rue) actors. The shop itself features live country-type music acts, on occasion.

After about an hour at Mavericks (I looked it up, and it seems that there is no apostrophe), we drove over to Joanns, where we looked at patterns and bought a few. We went to Petco next door, and then ran a few errands for me (bank, Staples). Then we finally moved on to our true mission: wedding dress shopping for Mia. We spent a long time at one particular shop, and she found one that she loved, but hasn't settled on it yet. We went to another bridal shop to scope out more dresses. Most of them were covered with very ornate lace. I'm not a big frou-frou person, but while we were there, one gown caught my eye, and I couldn't resist trying it on. I'm not in the market for a wedding dress, but sometimes it's nice to put on a pretty dress just because you can. And Mia paid me a dubious compliment by telling me that the dress made me look "as if you actually have a shape". Uh-huh. Thanks. And guess who's now getting coal for a gift at her bridal shower... Just kidding, but you readers can form your own opinions with the photos below, although the size of the dressing room made it difficult to get a good picture, so we have two partial pictures, so to speak. My face doesn't look too good, what with the dim lighting, awkward angle, and the fact the I was not wearing makeup, but it's a beautiful dress.

Day off

I didn't work today, due to some unique scheduling at the SATC. I enjoyed myself, all in all. I slept in, and then bummed around for a while. I wanted to work out, but knew that my body would never accept overt exercising (my body is rebellious like that), so I had to fool it, instead. I chose to take a brisk walk--on my way to Starbucks. I got some exercise (at least a mile, total), but my body didn't realize it was working out. My body thought it was just going for a frappucino. Good grief, the things I have to do, just to keep my brain at least one step ahead of my physical self!

Anyway, I cleverly combined a trip to SB with a trip to the grocery store. I figured: Chances are, if my body got a clue and suddenly shrieked, "Wait a minute! I don't need to walk to Starbucks. I can just drink tea at home on the couch to get my caffeine fix. You tricked me!" I could throw in the self-righteous fact that "We're not actually going to Starbucks, not really. We're going to Savemart for basil and vegetables, and just stopping at Starbucks along the way," and what with the need for leafy green veggies and the exorbitant price of auto fuel, walking to the store would seem like a good idea, even to a persistently lazy body such as mine. I just hoped that the body wouldn't notice the lovely reading book it was carrying in its right hand, with which I planned to enjoy some relaxing time sipping a frappucino on a sunny day. I bought basil, pine nuts, spinach, and a few other small items, and browsed through a scrapbooking store (it was lame, worse than the other one in town, which is smaller in square footage but greater in selection and customer service), and settled down to read about the Phoenicians and some of their colonies (a la Carthage or Leptis Magnus) that have been excavated. Good stuff.

I forgot to mention that it was a nice, warm day. It has been chilly for most of the time, these past few months. So I was pleasantly surprised to discover that after I started out on my walk, I was becoming too warm. Most folks know that I often don a layered t-shirt look, wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt with a short-sleeved t-shirt over it. This is comfy, as I get the look and feel of wearing a t-shirt, with all the warmth of wearing two layers, one of them long-sleeved (which is important for a cold-blooded person such as myself). So I was wearing my t-shirt outfit with denim jeans, and I actually had to shed a layer. I didn't want to have to go back to the house, so I ducked into an empty field, and removed my long-sleeved shirt (every girl should be able to remove underclothing in public, if called upon to do so), while crouching behind a patch of weeds (those weeds grow awfully tall there) for an added measure of privacy (there was a guy moving across the street). Then I tied the shirt around my purse strap, and gaily flounced my way down Goshen and through Savemart and Starbucks. I'm sure people wondered what the cloth bundle on my purse was. Yes, I am the weird person that people report encountering in grocery stores.

Upon returning home, I bummed around a bit more, then cleaned the house, which included sweeping the kitchen, washing dishes, and not much else. Oh, yes, and I also made pesto (which was why I had to get basil and pine nuts) and breadstick type things (I'm really quite good at cooking; it's just that I usually choose not to). And did three loads of laundry. Rebecca came over for dinner (hence the pesto), and we had such a great time talking and laughing. I met Rebecca a few years ago in a Torrey class*, but we didn't really get to know each other, due to circumstances of our lives. Now, however, we are both living in Visalia, and we are looking to find friends who are kindred spirits. The great thing is that although our personalities are a tad different, we have very much in common, having both grown up as MKs**, having gone to Biola, and knowing a lot of the same people and types of things. We even have the same favorite book by L.M. Montgomery: The Blue Castle! Of course, Rebecca is headed for success (I believe) at a job down in the Thousand Oaks area, so she may be moving away soon after we've become friends, but that's okay; I wish the best for her, and we'll just build our friendship long distance and when she visits her family in the big Vis.

After a bit, Mum and Mia arrived, and we've been having fun ever since. It's bedtime now, though. We'll have a fun and busy day tomorrow!

*We had some good laughs, reminiscing about that class. Kant and Coleridge and crazy stuff!
**Speaking of which, I realize that my "You know you're an MK when..." list was probably a bit too esoteric for most of my audience. At least Rebecca thought it was funny. It was also very long. Sorry about that.

YOU KNOW...

YOU'RE A MISSIONARY KID WHEN:
[Addendum: Asian MK Edition]

You realize that most of your favorite fruits are completely unknown in the Western hemisphere.
You can laugh at that old joke about building tree houses in banana trees.
Five words: Fat European Women In Bikinis.
You shriek with joy at finding that Nutella and Milo are available in the US.
You roll your eyes when people in the US say Singapore must be a horrible and harsh place, with all their capital punishment and stuff.
You are an acknowledged rice expert.

There must be more...

YOU KNOW...

...YOU'RE A MISSIONARY KID WHEN:
(I was looking at some newslists and Yahoo groups I visit, and came across some of these. They made me laugh SO HARD. And if you aren't an MK, you probably won't understand. I clubbed together parts of a few lists, and selectively edited and emphasized some of them.)

You can't answer the question, "Where are you from?" (Amen, and amen. For the past ten years, I've tried to just say that I'm from the place wherever I'm living at the time. Now, I'm from Visalia. Check me out, a real Californian girl with an identity and everything.)
You think that barrels make good end tables and night stands.
011 is a familiar area code.
The vast majority of your clothes are hand-me-downs.
People send you underwear as a gift.
People send you used tea bags in the mail. (No joke, this really happened to us.)
You speak two languages, but can't spell either. (I speak more than two, and I can spell, but...)
You flew before you could walk.
The U.S. is a foreign country.
You embarrass yourself by asking what swear words mean. (Jeff had to explain some stuff to me after we were married.)
You have a time zone map next to your telephone.
You don't know how to play Pac-Man.
You consider a city 500 miles away to be "very close". (It's where you go to school.)
Your life story uses the phrase "Then we went to..." five times.
You prefer a Land Rover to a Lexus.
You watch nature documentaries, and you think about how good that would be if it were fried.
You can cut grass with a machete, but can't start a lawnmower.
You think in grams, meters, and liters.
You speak with authority on the quality of airline travel.
You go to the U.S., and get sick from a mosquito bite.
You worry about fitting in, and wear a native wrap around the dorm.
National Geographic makes you homesick.
You have strong opinions about how to cook bugs.
You read the international section before the comics.
You live at school, work in the tropics, and go home for vacation.
You don't know where home is.
Strangers say they can remember you when you were "this tall."
You grew up with a maid.
You sort your friends by continent.
You keep dreaming of a green Christmas.
"Where are you from?" has more than one reasonable answer. (Yet another on this theme.)
The nationals say, "Oh, I knew an American once..." and then ask if you know him or her.
You aren't terribly surprised when you do.
You are grateful for the speed and efficiency of the U.S. Postal Service.
You realize that furlough is not a vacation.
You wince when people mispronounce foreign words.
You've spoken in dozens of churches, but aren't a pastor.
Furlough means that you are stuffed every night... and have to eat it all to seem polite.
You realize that in Australia, the above statement would be very rude.
You commit verbal faux pas, as demonstrated in the above statement.
Someone bring up the name of a team, and you get the sport wrong.
You bundle up warmly, even in the middle of summer.
You know there is no such thing as an international language.
You quote Reepicheep: Adventures are never fun while you're having them.
You tell Americans that democracy isn't the only viable form of government.
You realize it really is a small world, after all.
You never take anything for granted.
Rain on a corrugated metal roof is one of the most wonderful sounds in the world.
You know how to pack.
All preaching sounds better on hard, wooden benches.
A musical instrument can be anything-- even bottle caps nailed to a board
You can amuse yourself for hours with cardboard boxes.
Fitting 15 or more people in a car seems normal to you.
You refer to gravel roads as highways.
You haggle with the checkout clerk for a lower price.
You own personal appliances with 3 types of plugs, know the difference between 110 and 220 volts, 50 and 60 cycle current, and realize that a trasnsformer isn't always enough to make your appliances work.
You fried a number of appliances during the learning process.
Your parents' siblings are strangers to you, but you have 50-60 Aunts and Uncles who are no blood relation to you at all.
You get upset when people don't finish their food, and feel worse when they scrape it into the trash.
You don't think that two hours hours is a long sermon.
Your wardrobe can only handle two seasons: wet and dry.
You think nothing of straddling white lines to pass between trucks or buses travelling side by side, because "There was plenty of room, officer. Honest! At least six inches clearance."
Someone in your passport country has to explain to you that the double yellow line means *only* oncoming traffic can drive on that side of the road, even when there *isn't* any oncoming traffic. ...and you don't understand why.
The same individual also has to explain that red lights mean stop *all* the time, without exception, and you must stay stopped *until* they turn green, whether or not there is cross-traffic. ...and you still don't understand why.
Later the same day, the same poor friend has to go to great lengths to explain to you why you cannot just hand the policeman fifty cents and drive away when he stops you, and why you are now being driven downtown in the back of said officer's car over a mere fifty cents; at which point your passport country ceases to make any sense to you at all.
When you can't get past "Oh, say can you see..." in the national anthem, and you have to watch to see what hand to use.
You think the Pledge of Allegiance might possible begin with "Four-score and seven years ago...."
You listen to the latest hit on the radio and think "I wonder how that would sound on a thumb piano or a sitar?"
You feel odd being in the ethnic majority.
You go to the local Indonesian restaurant just to listen to the conversation.
You go to Taco Bell and have to put five packets of hot sauce on your taco.
You have a hard time living with a roommate who isn't a foreigner.
You really do enjoy Oriental folk music.
You marvel at the cleanliness of gas station bathrooms.
You instinctively start ripping up the newspaper when yo run out of toilet paper.
Your study of minor keys in music theory makes you homesick.
You have a name in at least two different languages, and it's not the same one.
You feel like you need to move after you've lived in the same place for a two months.
You cruise the Internet looking for fonts that can support foreign alphabets.
Riots make you homesick.
You have seen both the North Star and the Southern Cross, and you can navigate by either constellation.
You think VISA is a document stamped in your passport, and not a plastic card you carry in your wallet.
Climates that get below about 72 F (20 C) are against your body's religion.
Someone asks you where you most enjoy just hanging out and you immediately think of happy hours spent in international airports.
In spite of your passport country's climate, your parents' influence, and your or their religious scruples, you have an unsurmountable aversion to clothing any more substantial than your average thong bikini bottom.
The thing that made you feel most at home when you returned to your passport country was the "new", "modern", body peircing and tatooing fad.
You go to a church you have never been in before and find your picture on their bulletin board. (Or go to a stranger's house and see your picture on the fridge.)
You actually look forward to the rare times the power goes off because it makes you feel nostalgic, *and* you might get a chance to see those stars that are still etched so vividly in your memory.
You automatically take off your shoes as soon as you get home.
You visit an Ancient History museum and see a display of tools and household implements that you have used often and may even still own. (Ditto with the tribal art display at an art or anthropology museum.)
Your dorm room/apartment/living room looks a little like a museum with all the "exotic" things you have around.
You consider a three year old piece of clothing to be "practically new."
You don't know whether to write the date as month/day/year, day/month/year, or some variation thereof.
You play tricks with the International Date Line.
You meet another MK, and discover that you share the same best friend.
The best word for something is the word you learned first, regardless of the language.
You still use those words, even if you know what they are in English.
There are times when only your family knows what you're saying.
You embarrass yourself publicly by automatically picking up and using what turn out to be not-so-palatable expressions. (Ask me some time about my initial understanding of "the world's oldest profession".)
You won't eat Uncle Ben's rice because it doesn't stick together.
You get mad at "minorities" complaining of discrimination when they have no clue as to what it's like to be a real minority.
Half of your phone calls are unintelligible to those around you. (I'd call my mom in my office at work, and gaily chatter at her in Bahasa Indonesia.)
Your school was suspended or cancelled due to rain, political insurgents, or even military coup.
You watch a movie set in a foreign country, and you know what the nationals are REALLY saying into the camera.
You speak to different ethnic groups in their own language.
You get confused because American money isn't color-coded.
You can call up actual memories of a country while you're sitting in geography class.
You have the urge to move to a new place every couple of years.
You consider parasites, dysentery, or tropical diseases to be appropriate dinner conversation.
You read National Geographic and recognize someone. (Like, maybe, your parents.)
You wake up one day and realize you're not a foreigner anymore.
You wake up one day and realize you really still are a foreigner.

And you know you're an MK if you understood most of these.

SO TIRED

Yes, I am quite tired today. I practiced delivering lectures for the technical training that I'll be doing. I'll be going out as a solo trainer in just a few short weeks, and I'm working hard to be ready when the time comes. The reason the training training is so tiring is that I'm still learning the program, while teaching on it as well.

You went away; I let you. We broke the ties that bind...

Perhaps it has gone unnoticed that I've not been around for a few days. Or perhaps you've been wondering, "Why hasn't Deb been reading and commenting on my blog? And why didn't she e-mail me?"

The truth of the matter is that we've been without internet at home since Sunday. Yes, scary! Jeff just got a new wireless router and set it up today, so things should be fine from now on. However, I was experiencing some serious withdrawals, there.

To review life since my last post:
Friday evening, while Jeff worked on homework, I attended a scrapbooking evening at Gateway. It was nice, and I was able to get a lot of pictures sorted from my Israel trip (yes, I'm FINALLY getting to work on my Israel scrapbook). Saturday morning, Jeff went to the men's breakfast at Gateway (he mostly went b/c his grandfather wanted him to go, and bought him a ticket), and although I had intended to sleep in, I ended up not being able to get back to sleep. Nothing for it but to get up, and when I got online, Debbie invited me to chat; as it turned out, Jerry had also gone to the breakfast with Olaf and Jeff, so Debbie and I decided to have breakfast together and hang out. We had a great time, eating over at her place, and then decided to go out shopping for some scrapbook stuff that I decided I needed after working on scrapping the night before. Anyway, I hurried home after that, b/c Laurel was coming over (yay!), and we spent the afternoon together. The time was far too short, but we were able to sit and chat, visit Maverick's Coffee, and watch The Thin Man ("Waiter, will you serve the nuts? I mean, will you serve the guests the nuts?" Grand stuff. Laurel had never seen it before.). Sunday, Jeff worked on his project ALL DAY, and so we didn't make it to church or anywhere at all. Monday, I went to work, as per usual, and Jeff STILL worked on his project. He finally finished it, though.

Today, we both worked. Stuff is picking up pace at the SATC. I'm trying to become a subject matter expert on three things at once! Zowee! Due to this pertinent fact, I must go to bed and get my crucial beauty sleep (which, as anyone knows who has ever seen me, doesn't do much for my looks, but it must do at least SOMETHING for my intellect).

Plague

Yes, the bubonic plague has made the news! My favorite blight of humanity!

In LA.
Elsewhere.

I TOLD people that plague issues would resurface. I told you all! I predict that we'll hear of more in the not-too-distant future. A valuable lesson: Listen to Deb.

More about Yersinia pestis.

Thin Man

We're watching Another Thin Man, which is a great entry in the Thin Man franchise.

Today was a busy day, and all I did was work, do a little easy cooking, and watch a movie. I'm tired. I think it's bedtime.

Late

I'm tired. Must go to bed.

Mum and Dad are here, and we are having much fun, although poor Jeff had to be upstairs doing homework all by himself this evening.

Days of our Lives

Life is still going well. Work at the SATC is still appealing. I'm learning a lot, and hoping that I'm becoming useful.

I made fresh pizza for supper. Yum! Jeff and I are sitting and watching Buffy (who is still demonstrating that she is stupid), while I sip a celebratory (cf former post regarding the fact that I rule) margarita.

Mom and Dad are coming to visit tomorrow. I'll have to tidy up a bit.

Celebrating the Resurrection

Oh, yes, Easter. Yet more Christianized celebration centered around archaic pagan fertility rituals... Just kidding, people. But did you know that the term "Easter" does come from the name of the Babylonian goddess Ishtar? And in the time of the ancient Christian church, the date of the celebration of the resurrection was a subject of much controversy? This was known as the Quartodecimian Controversy, which comes from the Latin for 14, as the day in question was the 14th of the Jewish month of Nisan... It was a whole big thing. The issue was: Should the celebration of the passion and particularly the resurrection be associated with the the Hebrew Passover? Should there be a fixed date for this celebration? It was NOT related to the question of the coming association of the passion/resurrection celebration with the pagan celebration of the coming of spring. Anyway.

Our Resurrection Sunday was decent. I awoke with a sore throat, but I managed to get up and out of bed. We went to the 9:30 service, because we were meeting Olaf and Rosalee. After church, we went home to make some food, and Jeff's cousin Wendy dropped by to see our house, with her family. We moseyed over to the grandparents' house at 13:00, and had the family dinner thing, to which we contributed fruit salad, and two vegetable dishes (delicious, and courtesy of Jeff). There was a significant amount of sitting around, and a rather smaller amount of conversation. Then we went home, to do homework (in Jeff's case) and bum around and do a little housework (in my case).

I rule. You know it.

And here's how I show it:

I passed the Math CSET--both subtests!! I am qualified to be a high school math teacher, on a preliminary internship basis. If ALL ELSE fails, I have that upon which to fall back. Of course, wrangling algebra into the minds of spoiled, lazy teenagers is hardly my idea of a good time. Especially since I'd be required to start working on an actual teaching credential. I've only experienced "education" classes second-hand, when many of my friends took them, and I already know that I would not do well in such an environment.

Be that as it may, I did pass the Math CSET.

Seven-of-Ninyanka

Or, Catsuits are Irrelevant

We are making our way through Star Trek: Voyager, via Netflix. Some of the episodes are crashingly boring, but I'm becoming ever-more-attached to a few of the characters. I am still fond of Tuvok and the Doctor; I always love their arrogance: uptight and snarky, respectively. I smile and comment on how much I appreciate them, whenever they appear in an episode. The producers got rid of one of the characters I loathed (Kes), so that was good (I am always hoping for the demise of Neelix, but sadly, so far, no luck). Apparently, I'm relatively indifferent to the actual human members of Voyager's crew. The latest addition to the crew is one that I'm coming to also love. Seven of Nine was a character that I was led to believe was added only to provide the requisite Revealingly Clad Buxom Babe (RCBB) Factor, in a desperate bid for a ratings jump among the highly desirable "lonely geeky male" demographic. Whatever the case may be, I find Seven to be a compelling and sympathetic character, not to mention ceaselessly logical and efficient. I also think that Seven reminds me very much of Anya on Buffy: the awkward outsider who was (at least initially) unwillingly brought from her familiar and functional life into the confusing and often illogical world of human interaction. Poor Seven has perpetual culture shock, moved abruptly from a group-oriented society where all were literally of one mind to an individual-centered one. Gee, I wonder what that's like. No wonder she sees so many things as irrelevant! Fortunately, Jeri Ryan is actually a very good actress who carries off her complex role quite nicely.
I'm hoping that the writers stop being lazy, and get some good episodes going, though. One can't build an entire television series on statuesque (although, thank goodness she's not a skinny waif) anatomy.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful...

...There are plenty of better reasons.

Such as: Today, I got paid to write about Plato. And Pythagorus.
While listening to Weezer.
And eating Nutella.

Creep Factor: +4

MySpace is an interesting networking tool. I am enjoying adding friends to my Friends section. However, I still don't like the interface, so I just check up on my siblings, look at a few friends, and then I'm done with it for the day. Well, today I clicked on a friend's Friends section, and found that Dan Yim is on MySpace. It was really... creepy. I have nothing but love for Dr. Yim--he has always been the soul of sarcasm-laced kindness to me--but he seemed, well, out of place. However, I don't think that was the part that creeped me out. In his profile, he went on about being an INTJ. As if it's not bad enough to be exactly like my dad, I gotta be like Dan Yim, too?

Still Admirably Evil

Or, I Am Now Intimately Acquainted With the Contents of My Fuse Panel

Diligent readers will remember my previous encounters with the Evil Demon Car Alarm of Doom. Well, it has become apparent that the evil resides in more than just the alarm electronics. I am also possessed of the Evil Demon Car Stereo of Doom. It works intermittently, due to a faulty fuse that jiggles loose on a regular basis. When the stereo cuts out, I have to (when next parked) open up the fuse panel and jiggle that particular fuse.

My commute to work is not lengthy, but I always enjoy the radio (King's Radio 103.3--good old music from the 1940s, 1950s, 1960s), as well as the chance to bebop to my old cassette tapes from high school. So it's nice to have the stereo available.

Well, it may be an Evil Demon Car of Doom, but it's my Evil Demon Car of Doom.

I love Buffy Season 2 as a grand illustration of the theme "Stupidity should be painful". Haha. Of course, Seasons 4, 5, and 6 demonstrate that some people just never learn...

Let's see. I'm really like my job so far. It keeps me busy. I don't know how I'll accomplish everything I'm supposed to do in 40 hours a week.

I've been doing precious little else but working and attempting to keep the house from looking like the proverbial tornado did its proverbial sweeping through it. I'm failing miserably at the latter.

Hmm. I should go do some housework while I'm thinking of it.

Shmuffy

Jeff and I have been watching all the way through Buffy again, and we're in the middle of Season 2. It's great and funny, but the second time through, I'm really noticing the stuff that annoyed me a little bit the first time through annoys me a lot now. Primarily, the Buffy-Angel thing. It irritates me that there is such a big build-up over what is obviously a childish crush that never gets out of the immature hormonal stage of the relationship, because (SPOILER ALERT all the way down) they immaturely have sex (Hello, people, Buffy is UNDER AGE. Am I the only one who notices this? And she is way too young and lacks emotional maturity, so she isn't ready for any kind of serious relationship anyway. I hold Angel to be responsible, since he was the legal adult in this situation.) before they actually have time to build a real relationship. I just never bought the whole "this is true love forever" nonsense, and I buy it even less now. And that's really my big beef with Buffy; she never seems to quite get over her self-delusion about her relationship with Angel. Now I have that off my chest, and can go back to watching my show in something resembling peace.
I like Angel a lot better on his own show. I only like him on Buffy when he's evil. =)

Fear not, dear readers! It's not all negative here. Season 2 has some of my absolutely favorite couple moments: Xander and Cordelia, and Willow and Oz. I love Xander and Cordy and their I-hate-you-I-love-you vibe; they provided the normal teenaged student characters among all the wacky goings-on, and this is the only relationship where I like what I see in Xander. Willow and Oz are the sweetest, and it still makes me sad that Seth Green left the show. While I love Tara as a kind-spirited character, Willow really had her soul mate in Oz (with all his fabulous deadpan wit). And of course, I can't forget darling crazy Drusilla and her long-suffering faithful Spike.

Blinded by Success

Jeff and I bit the bullet and went to Home Depot and bought blinds (for a decent price). They are white, faux wood, and quite functional. Jeff has installed them all on the bottom floor, and they look very nice. They afford privacy and light control, and they are giving me ideas for finishing rooms with draperies and such. I'm thinking blue for the front room and master bedroom, taupe or moss green for the living room, and I'm not sure what else for the other rooms.

We went to Gateway again for church. Jeff and I are planning to join a Bible study, so we're trying to figure out which of the available studies would work best for us. Bill and Judy are trying to get us to join the one that they are involved with, but we're not sure how that will work with our schedule. We'll keep you updated. Oh, yes, and we went to brunch with Olaf and Rosalee after church.

I'm still looking forward to being at work tomorrow, so that is good, I guess.

I miss my old home town

Indonesia gets all het up about a "tame" edition of Playboy that is being sold there. The centerfold is probably a veiled woman coyly exposing a wrist. Meanwhile, elsewhere in Indonesia, thousands of women go topless every day because they are from the Baliem Valley and wear only grass skirts.

Angel and pizza

Jeff and I are watching Angel. We ate pizza (which I had made), and are relaxing after a week of hard work. Jeff even went to Sacramento today! We were happy to get an Angel DVD in the mail today.

Anyway, I just have to say Harmony is the Worst. Vampire. Ever. Heehee.

And Christian Kane as Lindsay is the Best Evil Lawyer Ever. Not only is he a cutie (once he cuts his hair), but he is also funny, smart (except in his unhealthy attachments, of course), and possessed of an evil hand. Don't get me wrong--I like Stephanie Romanov (I figured out who she reminds me of: Candace Bergen) as Lilah Morgan, as much as anybody. But, how can anyone compete with the Guy with Evil Hand Issues?

Seriously, Angel has just gotten better and better in Season 2. The comeraderie, character development, interesting villiany... The actors are settling into their roles, and I think the writing is really tight. Charisma Carpenter is the best: perfect timing, smart, beautiful, skilled at being lovable without being cloying. Somebody give this girl more career! And Alexis Denisof is even better: intelligent, convincing fake British accent, and once Wesley stopped being a pratfall punch line, solid. And Andy Hallett as Lorne? Wow. Best Supporting Charactor Actor Ever. Or maybe he ties with Mercedes McNab as Harmony. Yeesh, how lucky was this TV show, to get such a fabulous cast.

Oh, and by the way, my pizza was delicious.

Hey, all.

I'm tired, and have been doing laundry all evening after working all day. Time for bed, soon.

They're certainly keeping me busy at the SATC. I have new responsibilities every day, and you know what? I DON'T MIND. As long as they don't ask me to head up a project that demands results without a smidgen of budget, I'm fine. They'll give me a raise in a few months, though, if they know what's good for them.

Since I've been working, and Jeff has been working, we haven't done much else, and there has been nothing new and exciting in our lives, other than the fact that the house is now messier than ever. Sometimes I get pretty depressed about the fact that I am just not gifted in the area of domesticity (except cooking--I can cook pretty well when I put my mind to it), and it makes me feel like a failure. However, I then remind myself that I am smart and occasionally energetic, and soon I will be the world's expert on a particular software application (in contrast to my last job, where I was very nearly the world's expert on a particular inertial instrument; if nothing else, I totally ruled in the area of implementation and systems interaction for that instrument). La-de-da.

Time to go switch the laundry from washer to dryer!

Waiting

I know y'all have been waiting with bated breath to hear how my new job is getting along... or maybe you don't really care, and that is fine, too.

So far (Day 3 of Deb Has Gainful Employment, or DHGE), my time at the Small Anonymous Technical Company, or SATC, has been lovely. I am learning A LOT, and am coming up to speed nicely on both the day-to-day operations of the company and the applications for which I am to become an expert. It's a little bit early to make the call, but I suspect that I am going to like my job very much, which will be a welcome change from my last job at the HATC, where I sometimes sort of wished I would die so I wouldn't have to go to work anymore (long story). I seriously cannot wait until I am studied up and prepared enough to to go out and teach and train people.

This evening, Jeff and I went to Debbie and Jerry's house for our now-traditional dinner-and-Bones thing. Dinner was yummy. Bones was slightly less good, and I'm hoping they return to a simpler formula, with the protagonists solving murders that do not involve their personal lives, as well as the more balanced interplay among all the regular main and supporting characters. The "squints" have gone from being very real to being almost unbelievable last week and this week, and even Booth and Brennan have taken to being caricatures of themselves, a la "Hello, I'm goofy, but serious deep-down" versus "Hello, I'm uptight, and clueless because I don't own a TV". Dear writers: Please bring back humanity to your characters.

Reunited, and it feels so good!

Some pics from the past weekend:

Deb and Chris














Gospel Choir fun (with Cooky and D-Mac)

Narcissism

Got this from my kakak.

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
I was actively thinking about removing the little hair that had gotten stuck in my eye.
2. When is the next time you will have sex?
No way of knowing.
3. What's a word that rhymes with "DOOR"
My first thought was "smore". Yes, I'm a chocolate junkie.
4. Favorite planet?
Huh? I've only ever been to one: Earth. In the night sky, Venus.
5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your mobile?
I don't know. It's a number I don't recognize, although it is in the 714 area code.
6. What is your favorite ring on your phone?
I don't have a favorite on mine, but I always covet the rings on my mom's and sister's phones.
7. What shirt are you wearing?
Beige button-up.
8. Do you "label" yourself?
Sadly, yes.
9. Name the brand of shoes you're currently wearing.
I'm wearing slippers, and I don't know their brand because I bought them at Savers.
10. Bright or Dark Room?
Depends on what one would be doing in the room.
11. What do you think about the person who took this survey?
He's one of my favorite people. He's my big brother!
13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Sleeping.
14. What did your last text message you received on your mobile say?
"Hi, love!" from Jeff.
15. Where is your letter box?
On a post by our driveway.
16. What's a word that you say a lot?
Whatever!
17.Who told you he/she loved you last?
Jeff.
18. Last furry thing you touched?
Touchy, the world's most adorable kitty cat.
19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
Like Dan, just one: caffeine.
20. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?
I'm not sure. I might have one or two rolls that I've misplaced, but these days, I'm all digital.
21. Favorite age you have been so far?
The last time I actually thought the world was a reasonably desirable place was when I was 12 years old.
22. Your worst enemy?
Myself.
23. What is your current desktop picture?
Picture of lions from the San Diego Wild Animal Park.
24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"You're welcome," to Jeff, because he thanked me for bringing him some food while he did his homework.
25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly, which would you do?
I'd choose the ability to fly, because with that, I could earn a LOT more than just one million dollars by joining the circus or doing movie stunts or something.
26. Do you like someone?
Sure, plenty of people.
27. The last song you listened to?
The last song I actively listened to was Weezer's "Perfect Situation".
28. If the last person you spoke to was getting shot at, would you jump in front of the bullet?
I'd definitely consider doing so.
29. If you could punch 1 person in the face who's in your life right now, who would it be?
Can't think of anyone I'd punch; my tongue is a much deadlier weapon than my fist, anyway.
30. What is the closest object to your left foot?
The sofa.

Travelogue

Friday morning, I slept in, and Mom and I went to Starbucks down off of Compton and talked for hours. We went to Watts in the afternoon, to the WI school property, and supervised After-school Homework Club, which lacked homework, since it was Friday. There were about 10 neighborhood children who came, and we had an easy (according to Mom) time of it: only two fistfights! I don't like children much, even if they are quiet and well-behaved, and I emphatically don't like noisy, unruly children. I handled it all right, though, since it was for only a few hours, and the second hour, we did academic stuff indoors, such as multiplication worksheets and putting together a puzzle that was a map of the USA. Some of those kids are smart cookies, and I hope they keep doing their math and focus on success and rising above their circumstances.

I picked Mia up at the Metro station, and we headed back toward Biola, since Mia was meeting some SMU friends for dinner and I was going to the Gospel Choir 20-year Reunion concert and then reception. It was great, and I saw so many people: SarahAnne, Jen Dallman, Dave MacLean, Joy and Rachel Greenlee, Larry Wiering, Christina (I didn't expect to see her), Danette, Linda, and beautiful Cooky, of course. I sang with the group that came up for Cooky's era, and then at the very end with all the groups. I took a lot of pictures at the reception, which I'll have to upload and post (as well as send to a lot of folks who wanted them). I'm so glad that I went to the GC concert! I spent the night in Emerson with Mia, and I was seriously exhausted.

Saturday morning, I went off to Elizabeth's apartment. Sara joined us, and we had a great time, eating brunch (pancakes and eggs, mmm) and talking about this, that, and the other. I really miss them! In the early afternoon, I collected Mia from campus, and we set off on the scenic road to Bakersfield. We talked and enjoyed each other's company, and ended up still hanging out in Bakersfield, since we had to wait around for the friend she was visiting to become available. We munched at Taco Bell and talked some more. Eventually, I delivered Mia into Misty's capable care, and continued up the 99 to Visalia and home. I cuddled Jeff and the kitties, and got some well-deserved rest.

Looking back over my trip, I really wish that I'd had the sense to use my camera to take snapshots with all of my friends, but I never remembered, except at the GC function. Oh, well.

Family on both sides

"The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you." (Kendall Hailey, writer)

Anecdote
On Friday afternoon, I met a little girl in Watts who asked me if my sister was my sibling "on your dad's side or your mom's side". In her experience, parents are very seldom married and women typically have children by several different men, who have of course impregnated several different women in their time. It makes family relationships extremely complicated, to say the least. She was surprised when I told her that all the children in my family were from the same mommy and daddy.

All in the Family
Due to several factors, including hearing about it at Bible study and talking about it with my mom, I gave a lot of thought to dissecting my family members' personalities and the ways that we relate to one another. We use Myers-Briggs/Keirsey typing because we've found them to be most useful and accurate. Interestingly, fully half of the people in my nuclear family are Rationals (NTs). This is unusual because Rationals are, overall, a smallish percentage of the population, but I think the two NT children (Mike and Deb) inherited a lot of personality characteristics from the strong NT father. Remember, the four main categories can be distinguished as Guardians (xSxJ), Artisans (xSxP), Idealists (xNFx), and Rationals (xNTx).
Anyway, here is the breakdown:
Dad--INTP, Engineer/Thinker (sometimes INTJ, Mastermind/Scientist)
Mom--ISFJ, Protector/Nurturer (sometimes ESFJ, Provider/Caregiver)
Dan--ENFP, Champion/Inspirer
Deb--INTJ, Mastermind/Scientist
Mike--INTP, Engineer/Thinker
Mia--ISFP, Composer/Artist
For the people attached (not born) to the family, Jeff is generally ENTP (Inventor/Visionary) and I'm really not sure what Tim is.

Overall, we get along pretty well, and the truth of the matter is that nobody understands you as well as your family. My dad and I are so very similar in temperament that we understand each other very well, and he has not often been too concerned about over-fathering, so to speak, as he let me do my own thing since I was 13 or so, knowing that he could step in to guide if necessary (i.e. if I asked him for advice), but also knowing that although I'd make mistakes, he could trust that I'd eventually end up where he wanted me. [Thanks, Dad. Now even perfect strangers have observed that for all practical purposes, I am you.] Mia told me that she was so excited when the time came, a few weeks ago, that she had to make an important decision about school, and for the first time in her life, Dad sat down with her, discussed her different options, and basically treated her the way that he'd treated me since I was a young teenager: as an intellectual peer! Dad treats Mia more the way that he treats Mom, as a treasure to be guarded and nurtured, than the way he treated me; it makes her feel valued, whereas I would have found such treatment stifling, and I have always felt valued when he makes it obvious that he respects my thoughts and opinions, as a thinker. My mom, for her part, told me that she has worked hard all my life to make sure that I realize it's okay to be who I am, who God made me to be: a female INTJ. I guess she sort of ran interference on my behalf when I was in high school, since some people must have not understood me and my strange ways. [Thanks, Mom! I'm sorry I wasn't an outgoing, popular, pretty cheerleader so that my high school years could have been easier for you. But at least I'm not boring, right?]
I can get frustrated with Dan and Mia, since we are not very similar, and I know they think I'm too harshly logical and argumentative sometimes. I'm plenty harmonious with Mike, but I do think he's a little flaky, since he's a P and very easy-going. The bottom line is that since I'm the only one among the children who is a J, I end up being the bossy one. Go, me! Mia says that Tim still doesn't always know how to take me, but he's learned that if I go out of my way to talk to him and seek his thoughts and opinions, and even argue with him and show him where he's wrong, it means that I like him. It's how I show that I care. If I was nice to him when I had to interact with him, but didn't have discussions or even correct him when he is blatantly wrong, it would mean that I don't like him. Heheh.

Anyway, here are some things Mom and I sort of identified about my personality. I love information and systems. I love ideas, and definitely prefer ones that have practical application, but I have no problem with seeking knowledge for its own sake. My tendency toward logical analysis and pragmatism causes me to often be dismissive of emotions, or of people I discount as useless or incompetent. I can make a system, a diagram, a chart or table, out of anything. I can identify systems and patterns where others see chaos, which makes me an excellent teacher, as I can break down and build up ideas in an effective manner. I am self-confident in subject areas where I know I am competent, and I've learned that I'm surprisingly strong-willed. I'm a natural and excellent leader, but prefer to work behind the scenes, becoming the "power behind the throne" that makes things run smoothly. I think and pretty much exist "outside the box", because the structure and organization that I require are all in my head; I don't usually need them externally. My house is a mess, but my brain is in fabulous order! I don't always like people, but I deal with them well, overall, because my natural ability to acquire and analyze data helps me to observe and understand people to an extent that may surprise many (I can know a lot about you, and guess even more, from little things I've observed and analyzed and compiled--clues that you may not even be aware that you're revealing); thus, I can be a wise and comforting counselor in one-on-one situations, if you need a listening ear attached to a level head (but then again, I might be dismissive of your feelings, if I think you're being overly emotional or something, and this is probably off-putting).
Jeff is a good husband for me, since he accepts my quirks ("No, I didn't do the laundry, Jeff, but listen to my latest theory about Plato...") and even understands the way I operate (being a balanced Rational himself). He thinks I should be nicer to people, and helps me find ways to reach that goal, but he doesn't put me down for being how I am; he just wants me to have an easier time in life, and he smooths the way for me.

Oh, yes, and I like chocolate, cats, and the color blue. I listen to punk, nostalgia, and classical music. I'm a kind friend, once you get to know me.

Some of my close friends whose profiles I know or can accurately guess:
Sara--ESTJ
Elizabeth--ENFJ
Christina--ENFJ
Laurel--ENFJ
Sherida--ISTJ
Wendy--ISTJ
Melissa--ESTJ
Ben--ISTJ (?)
Ojan--ENTJ
Jeff Leary--ESTJ or ENTJ (not sure)
Katie--INTP or INTJ
Jessica--INFJ?
Stephanie--INFP
Leianna--ESFP
Megan Mendoza--INFP
Christie--I wouldn't be surprised if she's a moderate ESTP or ESFP, but a quiet ENFP is also likely.
Bekah--Almost certain to be ENFJ or INFJ.
Mark Baesel--ENFJ

I'm going to have to guess about my in-laws:

Jerry--INTP (this is a pretty safe guess)

Debbie--ESFJ

Rob--INFP?

Candace--ENFJ?

Funny. In friendships, I see a definite pattern in that I tend to consistently be drawn to thinking Guardians or judging Idealists. If I have male friends, though, they are often Rationals (I didn't even list any of my buddies from the engineering world, who are statistically almost guaranteed to be Rationals). My only true Artisan pals are my sister and my wild-child friend Leianna. =)