Ten Cent Repair

Ah, house repair. Nothing conjures the image of a cursing dad better than those words.

...dumb, frattin', housesnickle viper!

While I didn’t have to struggle with a rassafrassin’ furnace, I did have to fix our disposal. Somehow, someone* dropped a dime in the garbage disposal.

Not a pay phone

Naturally, this deposit into the First National Bank of Kitchen Appliances went unnoticed until the disposal was switched on. After some entertainingly distressing noises, the garbage disposal ground to a halt. Upon close inspection, the dime was revealed to have snuggled down into a cozy spot between the spinning bottom plate and the inner wall of the disposal. The spin of the plate managed to wedge it under a small bump of metal, encasing it both on top and bottom.

Secure in its Fortress of Solitude, the dime feared no interference from nefarious ne’er do wells

Stacy and I struggled with the dime for a while, but it was well and truly jammed. I determined that no less than removing the disposal to get into its innards would free the dime from its cozy new home. Not having the energy or time, I did one of the things I do best, put it off for later.

Or never, whatever

We lived the next few weeks with no disposal. It seemed that any time I was ready to work on the sink, either it was full of dishes or the dishwasher was running. Oh, also I was lazy. The stars finally aligned today and I was determined to vanquish the rogue coin. I armed myself with a bucket full of wrenches, screwdrivers, and clamps. One of us was going to walk away from this a victor, with the disposal possibly becoming collateral damage.

A few scraped knuckles and some under-the-breath curses later and I had freed the disposal from its hoses, clamps, and power lines. All that remained was the offending money. Stacy managed to pry the dime away from the inner wall with a screwdriver while I turned the baseplate manually. A few more minutes and curses and I was able to grab the dime with a needle-nose vice and haul it out.

The offending dime

The dime was somewhat worse for the wear, but I had high hopes for the disposal. It spun freely using the manual key at the bottom. The riskiest part was still ahead, installing it so there were no leaks and no crossed wires. Amazingly enough, the reinstallation went pretty smoothly with Stacy’s help. We flipped the switch and heard the sweet music of the disposal spinning, ready to macerate anything we dumped into it, barring dimes, of course.

In and done!

*Living in a house with four kids, “someone” could be anyone, and yet is never one of the people I ask.

Pain in my Ass Pt. 3 and Food

Since I got a comment asking how my ass was doing, I thought I'd share with the whole class. I was doing fine up until today. I think the top stitch has become infected. I'm going in for my follow-up appointment on Monday, so we'll see what the doctor says. The short of it is, my ass is a pain in my ass. In an unrelated note, I have been cooking a lot lately. As I mentioned before, I found my inner chef a few weeks ago and have been enjoying work in the kitchen since then. One of the things I have noticed from watching Food Network, which I do often, is that the chefs, no matter how simple the meal, always devote some time to presentation. I realized that my family never did. We'd put hot pads down and put the pot or pans of food on it with a big spoon or fork for serving. Everyone would dig in a la buffet. Since working more in the kitchen, I have started to take some pride in my presentation. It is certainly amateurish, but I am happy with the way some of my dishes have turned out. I'm thinking of snapping some pics of them and posting my meal creations here. I'll see if I can make another pretty meal and remember to take a picture before I eat it. Tonight, Stacy and I made Grilled Raspberry Thyme Chicken on a bed of fresh spinach, cantaloupe, and raspberries with a homemade raspberry vinaigrette dressing. Side dishes included Rustic Cheddar Mashed Potatoes and Southwest Biscuits. It was very tasty.

Post Eaten by MS Word. Scientists Baffled

I posted an entry the day after my surgery. It wasn't much, but it isn't here. I posted through the Blogger plug-in for MS Word, which seems to have a flaky log-in component. I think I've got it down now, though.

Nothing really much to say. I was drugged (still am, actually) at the time and just popped in to tell everyone that it went swimmingly. No more pilonidal cyst. Unfortunately, the surgeon stitched me back up. This makes for a shorter recovery time (7 to 10 days) but gives me a 50% chance of another pilonidal cyst in the future. I don't like those odds, but it is my own fault for not specifying how I wanted the surgeon to perform the operation. I don't know why, but it seemed presuming of me to tell him how to do his job. In hindsight, I should have ignored that feeling and told him anyway.

Funny story, when telling my wife what I had done, my five-year-old girl will bend over double, showing her rear. She motions over her behind with both hands and says, "They took daddy's parts out of here." Kids say the darndest things, don't they? I'm just waiting for Stacy to tell me that Vicki illustrated my surgery in the middle of church.

I've been up and about a bit too much for the past two days. I am going to be out on my duff for the next couple of days to try to recover a little faster. Whether that means that you will see more inanity or not remains to be, uh, seen.

Initial Thoughts on Superman Returns

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

I'm going to avoid spoilers and try to keep it brief. The acting was pretty good. The action was spectacular. The individual sequences were directed and filmed well. The story sucked. A lot of the characters should not have been who they were, even though the actors portraying them did a good job. As Jon was so kind to point out here, the film seemed to be a morally debasing homage to Richard Donner, director of the first Superman film starring Christopher Reeve. That aside, Routh wasn't half bad; neither was Bosworth. Jon also pointed out something funny about them. Both of them are younger than their counterparts on Smallville, Tom Welling and Erica Durance. I could tell that Kevin Spacey had a great time aping Gene Hackman. James Marsden wasn't nearly as annoying as he is when playing Cyclops, but he still shouldn't have been in the movie. Frank Langella did a fair Perry White. The rest of the cast? Meh. I may post my thoughts on particular story elements in a few weeks after more people have had a chance to watch the movie.

On that note, I am off to bed. Surgery tomorrow, wish me luck.

Oh yeah, his costume was supergay.

Once More Around the Bend

That’s two floods and counting. Last night I went downstairs to check on our impromptu drain cover (a sink drain cover flipped upside down) only to find, to my dismay, that the even more water was leaking through the back door. I had gone down in time enough to stop it from spreading as far this time. Stacy ran down stairs to the sound of my shouted exclamation, “Crap!” Yeah, I’m pretty boring when it comes to curses. Even though it had not spread as far, it seemed like there was more water this time. I was about to open the door to unclog the drain when Stacy serendipitously stopped me. She went outside via the deck door to unclog the drain in case we let more water in by opening the basement door. Lucky she did, because the water was backed up about six inches from the ground, a good four inches above the bottom of the door.


My hotels and diner were ruined! And how did all these people get into my basement?
Stacy unclogged the drain and opened the door. Crisis averted, right? Wrong. After the water got about an inch below the bottom of the door, it stopped draining. The drain wasn’t clogged, though. While I was busily siphoning water out of the carpet, Stacy went into the laundry room across the basement. “Water!” was the next thing I heard. It turns out our sump pump had stopped pumping sump. The three foot well it was in had filled to the brim and just started leaking out onto the floor. My heart sank. It looked like we were in for a nasty flood no matter what we did. The carpet cleaner could only siphon about a gallon of water in five minutes. With the drain and the sump backing up, there was no way we could keep up.


Artist’s depiction of Scott’s broken sump pump
Stacy used the hose attachment to start draining the sump well while I put in an emergency call to her dad. We were sure he would have some good advice. Unfortunately, he could suggest little else beyond getting a new pump and a shop vac as soon as possible. I figured that I’d have to take the pump out to figure out what to buy anyway, so I reached into the water and pulled on the handle. Just as I jostled it, it kicked on. Water began draining out of the sump well faster than you could say, “It works!” which is what I said. As soon as the sump well started draining, so did the back drain. Apparently, it routed straight to the sump well. I also discovered where the sump pump drains, which has me slightly concerned. The steps down to our basement are dug into the earth and reinforced with concrete. This leaves a space of about four feet between the rest of the ground and the deck above. That space is filled with white landscaping rocks and our air conditioner. There is also a pvc pipe jutting from the wall that drains directly into the rocks. As I was working on the carpet after the sump pump crisis, I heard that pipe draining. It turns out the water from the sump well dumps out right there into the rocks.


If you look reeeaaaly closely, you can see the little white rocks
The best I can figure, the builders installed some sort of drainage tiles and the water runs off into the storm drains. Either that, or it contributes to the swamp that is our backyard. If that is the case, then once we reach total saturation, then there is no where for all of the water in our backyard to go but down the stairs, into the drain, back into the sump pump, rinse, repeat, flood. Here’s hoping I won’t be writing a third flood entry.

Unrelated Note Dept.

Stacy called Jon this morning and strong-armed him into seeing Superman Returns with me at a 10:00 PM showing tonight. Apparently the theaters figure that as long as the movie ends after midnight, it is still technically opening on the next day. I wasn’t planning on seeing the movie anytime soon because I have my surgery for the pilonidal cyst tomorrow. I’ll be effectively laid out for the next 7 to 10 days. Jon wasn’t going to see the movie because it stands against everything he knows and loves. Well, everything he knows and loves about Superman, at least. Not one to be deterred, Stacy convinced him to accompany me tonight. She figures I need a night out before I am bed-ridden. I am not going to argue. I’ll leave my thoughts on the movie in my next post.


So gay

Pain in my Ass pt 2, Recent Movies, and Thunder Storms

Originally posted June 23, 2006

I had a few things I wanted to share about last week that I just didnt get to. One of the first things I did as a bachelor after my work week was go to the surgeons office and get my pre-op checkup. Turns out that the surgeon doesnt think I have a problem. He examined the area around my tailbone and said he wasnt even sure I had a cyst. Naturally, I had already finished my antibiotic regimen at this point. I wasnt supposed to have any outward signs of the cyst. When I explained everything to him, he treated me like some hypochondriac that looked up the information on a pilonidal cyst and decided I had one. I patiently explained that this was my fourth such flare-up and that I had to have two of the three before lanced by a physician. He maintained that I did not need the surgery and that it would be wholly elective. I elected. So Ill be going under the knife (more aptly put, the knife will be going under me) on June 28^th. Poor Jon will be without my sparkling personality for the following two weekends as I recover.

Exciting bachelor life, right? Yeah, not really. I did find my inner chef while Stacy and the girls were gone, though. I grabbed a few interesting recipes from the Interweb thingy and headed to the grocery store for the goods. I ended up cooking a few gourmet dishes that turned out pretty good. Two favorites were Grilled Portobello with Sun-Ripened Tomatoes & Mozzarella and Mahi Mahi in Macadamia Nut Crust. I was able to share my culinary delights with my family since Stacy and the girls came home last Wednesday on schedule.

I wanted Stacy to stay out there as long as it took to help her family member, but she decided she was doing more harm than good. I was not sorry that she came home early at all. I concluded long ago that I am not cut out for the bachelors life. Although I did enjoy the additional free time that it entailed, I did not enjoy going to bed alone at night. I developed a severe case of insomnia during the short time Stacy was in Utah. It was nothing that Stacys return and some Excedrin PM couldnt resolve.

As I was en route to the airport to pick up my girls, Jon called to see if I wanted to go to A Prairie Home Companion. With the OK from the wiff, whom I did not want to abandon the day after she got home, I told Jon Id be there. Stacy and I decided to take the girls to see Cars on the same day. Thats right, I got to hit the double feature. Its been years since Ive gone to a double feature, mostly because actual double features do not exist anymore. Going to two movies in a row are about as close as you get.

A Prairie Home Companion was good. The ensemble cast did a great job of working together with no real grandstanding. By far, my favorite character was Kevin Klines Guy Noir, the bumbling, down-on-his-luck private eye that was moonlighting as the VP of security/head of security/sole security guard of the radio studio. For those of you who are not familiar with A Prairie Home Companion, something I was only in passing, it is a radio show headed by Garrison Keillor (GK in the movie.) It is a variety show complete with musical acts, stories from Garrison, sound effects, and fictional advertisements for things like Buttermilk Biscuits, look for the big blue box with the biscuit on the front. What I didnt realize as I was watching the movie, but that Jon educated me about later, is that most of the characters behind the scenes of the radio show were the fictional characters that Garrison would tell stories about on the actual radio show. Many of them were originally voiced by some of the movie cast members that were playing themselves. Its all very confusing in writing, but it made for an entertaining movie. I would give A Prairie Home Companion 4 out of 5 stars.

Afterwards, as Jon and I were discussing Kevin Klines brilliantly subdued buffoonery, Jon wondered why Kline wasnt tapped to play Inspector Clouseau in the latest remake of the famed Pink Panther movie instead of Steve Martin. I later found that Kline is in the movie, but only as Chief-Inspector Dreyfuss, the poor man that is the butt of most of Clouseaus mishaps. I think that one reason Kline may not have been chosen for the lead role is that his French accent is not nearly outrageous enough. Throughout his performance the dramatic resonance of his almost sing-song delivery of lines paved over any attempt at a foreign accent. Martin, on the other hand, did no better as Clouseau. His accent was outrageous, but his performance was barely amusing at the best of times. The only redeeming factor was Beyonce Knowles as Random Sexy Lady That Is Not The Leads Romantic Interest. Specifically during the final sequence wherein Beyonce does what Beyonce does best, singing and shakin it. Said shakin occurred in a slinky evening dress sans bra. Verry nice. Unfortunately, not nice enough to save this movie. I would give Pink Panther 1 out of 5 stars.

Enough about Beyonces jubblies, on to Pixars latest contribution to the CG glut of kids movies, Cars. It was entertaining in a completely different manner than A Prairie Home Companion. Where the latter gave us humor in the Americana of a dying radio show, the former gives us car-related puns and a few humorous gems for the parents. While I did find the movie endearing overall, I do have a complaint about the talent. I dont remember where I read it, but someone recently commented on the trend of celebrities voicing CG characters and how it tends to detract from viewer enjoyment. How often have you heard a voice over and wracked your brain to figure out who it is while the action continues on screen? Perhaps even more annoying is when a voice over is performed by an actor you despise. Case in point: Lightning McQueen, Cars lead role as voiced by Owen Dicknose Wilson. His smarmy delivery of lines is made only slightly more tolerable by not having to see his insincere, Im very sincere facial expression that accounts for half of his emotive repertoire (the other half being his all-too-sincere smug expression.) What was the purpose of having Paul Newman voice the older car? What did that bring to the movie? How about Cheech Marin as the stereotypical hydrolic-lifted, custom-paint-job, low-rider Impala? A few of the voice-over artists actually brought something to their roles, such as Tony Shalhoub as the Italian Fiat 500 or George Carlin as the stoner hippy VW Minibus. I still maintain that actors doing voiceovers has gotten out of hand. When the movie is a vehicle (no pun intended) for the voice over artists rather than the story, the superb animation, or a myriad other things that should take precedence, then the experience is cheapened. Id give Cars a middling to fair review, I guess 3.5 out of 5 stars.

Other stuff happened, but I think Im just going to bring this blog up to date with a pitiful story about my daughter, Zoe. I had taken my sleeping pills early on last night so I could get my sleep schedule ready for the weekend. Stacy had gone to a Tupperware party and left me to put the girls to bed. No big deal, it was done within an hour. I was drifting off to sleep despite the screaming infant in the cradle next to my bed by the next hour. Suddenly, I was awakened at 11:30 PM. It only took a few seconds to realize why. Rain was hammering down on the roof and sides of the house while lightning flashed and thunder pealed in machine-gun bursts. It was loud and close. Judging from the lack of a full second between lightning and thunder, it was hitting within a mile of our house. Stacy had not returned by then. I was slightly worried with the storm outside and Stacy missing, but I figured I would have gotten a call from her if anything was wrong. I lay there awake, drowsing, as I waited for the inevitable cry from the girls room as one or both of them was awakened by the storm. In-between a lazy blink of my eye, a shadowy figure loomed out of the dark, illuminated from behind by the flashes of lightning. I freaked. Hazy memories of The Exorcism of Emily Rose flashed through my mind. It took me a second to realize it was Stacy. She had come home a couple of hours ago and was just waiting in the office for one of the girls to wake up. Minutes later, Zoe did just that. The poor girl was so terrified of the noise from the thunder that she had her hands clutched to her ears no matter what we did. Stacy passed her over to me while she was getting into bed and those hands did not even budge. I found out from Stacy this morning that Zoe kept her ears covered tightly even after she fell asleep. Poor kid.

I'm going to end on a note about this blog's location. With Myspace patchy blog performance, I am thinking about moving to blogspot or a similar blog host. Watch this space for a link.

Something that Pains and Something that Rocks My Ass

Originally posted June 3, 2006

Its been too long since Ive written here and Ive got a lot of things to say. So pull up a chair and relax.

Item 1: Life is a Pain in My Ass

I have suffered from pilonidal abscesses since 1998 or 1999. If you want detail on the condition, check out the link over here. Heres the nitty gritty, some people have a cavity just under their tailbone that can become infected and very painful. Sitting is uncomfortable and can move to excruciating in a matter of minutes. I have had a recent flare-up as the result of extended bouts of improper posture throughout my Red Hat training days and work weekends. As a person that spends an inordinate amount of time on his ass, this condition fills me with various emotions, all of them negative and most I would not describe in polite company (which is what were in now, right? The Internet is all about manners, right? No? Well, lets pretend just this once.) After a couple of weeks of pain, I could no longer pretend that I just bruised my tailbone. I sought medical attention. My doctor examined the area (Ill spare you the gruesome details of that examination) and decided it was not suitable for lancing (and definitely will spare you of details about that procedure.) The good news is that since this is my fourth flare-up, my doctor refers me to surgery to have the cavity permanently removed. Before you ask, I dont know what goes in the place of the cavity, if you remove something, doesnt it leave a cavity? In the meantime, on to antibiotics I go. A week and a half later and I am still in pain. My pre-op appointment comes in about another week and a half. Ill see what they have to say about my tender tailbone then. A couple of days ago Stacy clued me in on what I have to look forward to for the surgery. They will give me a spinal block. Awhuh? I say in consternation. Thats right, a spinal block. That means a needle. A needle in my back. A big needle in my back while Im awake. ::shudder:: Whether they give me anesthesia or not, I may be passing out. I dont do well with needles and the idea of having one squirming around in my spine fills me with a sense of dread akin to waking up at 3:00 AM and thinking about Emily Rose. DAMN THAT MOVIE!

Item 2: X-Men 3: Last Stand Rocked My Ass

I am a comic book nerd and I liked X-Men 3. Do I need a support group? The creators of the movie took such massive amounts of artistic license with the characters I grew up with that I should have hated it. Perhaps their various and sundry licenses combined in a pleasing chunky stew of awesomeness and potatoes, I dont know. Dont get me wrong, there were parts that upset me, but they were eclipsed by the parts that made me want to curl up into a ball, wrap myself up in the warm embrace of the cellulose, and snuggle my back issues of X-Men as I fell asleep. Does that make me weird? Jon wrote a good review here that echoes many of my sentiments. I warn you now that if you havent seen the movie and are planning to remedy that woeful state, you may encounter spoilers below.

First, the bad:

Jons sentiment about the Dark Phoenix aspect is spot on. Varicose veins and funky eyes do not a Dark Phoenix make. Scarlet spandex with golden phoenix emblem and golden sash? Now youre talkin!

Glen Angus Painting

Was Angel lame or what? Okay, hes always been lame, except for that stint with the Blue Man Group and his knives-for-feathers make-over. Imagine the spectator on the street. Oh wow! That guy can shoot beams of pure force from his eyes! That guy has claws and can heal super fast! That chick can fly, pick up cars, and drain lifeforce! That chick can fly, call down lightning, and control the weather! That guy can...fly. Oh, hes got a bazooka, I guess thats cool. Hey! That guy can turn into ice, make ice slides, and freeze anything! You get the idea. However, in all my days of reading the comic, I never questioned Angels ability to fly. Hes got a huge set of wings, of course he can fly! Seeing him up on the screen for the first time made me wonder. How does he steer? Hes got no tail feathers! What does he do, wiggle his legs? For the No-Prize one of my brothers (sorry, conversation was fast and loose, I forget which) said that it must be that his mutation was that he could fly, the wings are just for show. Regardless, Angels onscreen appearance was not as awe-inspiring as his namesake should be. Maybe I never had a problem in the comics because all we ever got were still shots of him flying. Meh.

Juggernaut was a mutant. In the comics, Juggernaut (Marko Cane, Xaviers half brother) obtained invincibility and super strength from absorbing the Ruby Gem of Cytorrak. His powers being of a mystic origin, Leech would not have had much of an affect on him. However, this irritation is overrun as if by a juggernaut by a) Juggernauts now classic line, Im the Juggernaut, bitch!

and 2) aforementioned Leechs affect on Juggernaut as he comically bashes his head into the wall with the requisite CLANG sound effect.

Wolverine talked down Dark Phoenix. Alright, it made for a powerful cinematic moment, but that was a complete departure from the original story. Rather than sacrificing herself in front of the man she loves (Cyclops, not Wolvie,) in a moment of clarity and supreme tragedy. Our favorite adamantine-infected hirsute talks her out of her homicidal rage with a passionate speech about his love for her, ending in the now cheapened sacrifice for the greater good. I know that presenting the Dark Phoenix Saga as it was written would have been entirely too much for a Hollywood movie, but including more elements of the original rather than giving Wolverine yet another stretch in the limelight would have won my support.

It looks like a lot, but the above problems did not detract so much from my enjoyment of the movie. What rocked? Im glad you (didnt) ask.

Old comic book favorites transferred flawlessly to the silver screen. First, we get a post-apocalyptic scene with the X-Men fighting an out-of-sight sentinel. My first thought was of the Days of Future Past Storyline wherein the beleaguered X-Men had been reduced to just a few members by the sentinels and were forced to hide from the murderous sentinels. And what was the crowning moment of the sentinel battle? The good old Fastball Special! For the uninitiated (shame on you!) that is when Colossus in all his organic metal glory swings and tosses Gimli, oops, I mean Wolverine discus style. We get treated to this spectacle not once, but twice in the course of the movie. How awesome is that?

Not as awesome as Kelsey Grammar knocking the role of Beast out of the park! When I first heard he would play Beast I thought, That wont work, it will just be Frasier with blue skin and fur. I was so deliciously wrong. Our introduction to the warrior-thinker of the X-Men was his classic hanging-from-the-ceiling-while-reading-intellectual-type-stuff. Beast proceeds to show us his upper-crust diplomatic side as a cabinet member of the President of the United States. Frasier, oops, I mean Grammar shines as the intellectual, but what about the acrobatic furball of rage that is the Beast in action? Through the space-age wonder of science, the special effects guys deliver as if rolling Silly Putty across the pages of the classic comic books and magically transferring the action onto the film. Beast begins battle with a blood-curdling roar before crushing, leaping, spinning, and generally maiming everybody with which he comes in contact. It was marvelous!

Speaking of marvelous, how about seeing Bobby Drake transform into Iceman for the first time in three movies? Out of the furnace of hell that was punk-ass Pyros conflagration shoots the crystal-clear, ice-cold fists of Iceman. First, he freezes Pyros jets, and then the rest of him emerges from the steam. He stayed icy long enough to deliver a scathing one-liner, which eludes me at the moment, to Pyro, before reverting to flesh and blood, but it was long enough.

Magneto lifts the friggin Golden Gate Bridge (I think) to walk five feet onto Alcatraz Island. How badass is he? Ill tell you how badass. A black car, a black SUV, a black truck towing Mystique, two more black SUVs. What would you do if you were the Master of Magnetism? If you said, Crumple the first car like spent Kleenex, then do the same to the second and toss both aside before flipping the other two SUVs off the road like Hot Wheels and then pitching the truck end over end over my frickin head while I stop the trailer two feet away from smearing me into well-dressed jelly, then youd be spot on. If you also would do the above with the aloof air of someone idly cremating a hopelessly inferior chess player in the world championships, then give yourself two hundred fifty points out of ten for style and start monogramming all of your stuff with a big fat M. The badassery (I smell a new word!) does not end there. Oh no. Magneto, rid of his mutation by the Leech-derived cure still has enough power to move a metal chess piece. Have we heard the last of Eric Lensher? No, hes to badass.

Finally, all of the neat plot threads tied up. Magneto already explains how all of the cured mutants will get their powers back, wanted or not (Im talking to you, Rogue. Now get off your swamprat behind and drain Marvel Girl of her powers already!) In my mind, the various deaths caused by Dark Phoenix are already taken care of. Do we know what happened to the people and things that were apparently disintegrated? Cheesier things have happened in the comics to bring back dead people. Characters don't die in comic books. They go to that great waiting room in the sky until their dramatic resurrection. When Phoenix rises again, and she always does, she can simply tap into wherever she sent them and reconstitute Cyclops (in all his whiny glory,) Prof. X., and all the no-names she wiped during the climax. No biggie. Would Patrick Stewart come back for a sequel or claim that resurrection cheapens his death? He will if he knows whats good for him. Dont think I wont sent Juggie after you, Stewart. Hes unstoppable, you know.

I had a couple of more items, but its really late and I just wrote way more about X-Men 3 than I thought I would. If this were the school paper I have due this week, I would be waaaaay over my requirements. Im going to spare those of you that made it this far in the entry (you gluttons) and say goodnight.

Goodnight.

Gut-Shot Desks and Busted Tailbones

Originally posted May 10, 2006

I am sitting here at work, whiling away my last hour before I abandon ship for the day. Jon is in training today with Brian. They're learning all about RedHat. I'm not sure if either of them will subject themselves to the rigors of the RHCT test after this week's class. Jon might, but Brian is leaning towards the side of the department that doesn't require RedHat training, so he may not. This is the first day in years that I've had to work the desk solo. Five stations and one person make for a lot of wheeling around in my chair. I can't complain too much. There have been busy hours, but nothing overwhelming. This just confirms my fear that our desk is not long for this world. I'm hoping I can get transferred to another help desk in my department before that happens.

On the lighter side, I have to go to the doctor on Monday. Wheeee! I've got a persistent pain in my tailbone that I fear is going to need medical attention before me and the fam fly out to Utah in June. It's bad enough sitting at work for 12 hours, at least here I can stretch my legs and adjust my seating position. Four hours on an airplane will not be so forgiving.

So I guess you could literally say that this day has been a pain in my @$$.