September 2002 Archives

Beware of Dog

Stupid vending machines.

Every once in a while, I'll get ripped off by a vending machine. I try not to make a habit out of it. But it happens now & then.

Today, I tried to purchase some Almond M&Ms from the vending machine here at work (and try my hand at winning a million yen if it has all purple candies!!). Soon after the little, silvery archimedes spiral started twisting away, I realized that the little tan bag of candy wasn't moving right. And then my heart sank as the spiral stopped and my hard-earned M&Ms just sat their staring longingly back at me. A certain amount of decorum is expected where I work--it's not like it's a printshop or something, where you can beat the living crap out of machinery and nobody gives you a second glance. So after glancing around for bystanders, I tried rocking it gently, thumping it gently, jiggling it a bit, but that bag of chocolaty goodness wasn't going to let go.

So I said whatever, and walked off. I knew I could go up to the front desk and let the receptionist know what happened, and she'd reach into the bag of spare change the vendor leaves around for just such problems, and refund my coin.

Me: Hey Anita, the vending machine just ripped me off and I was wondering...
Anita: Again?
M: {What the...?} Ummm, I think it's been at least 9 months since I had to ask you for...
A: Well how much did you lose?
M: 65 cents
A: You know, it helps if you make your decision before you put the money in...
M: Huh? You mean people are waiting so long to make a choice that the machine times out?
A: Yes, so you need to...
M: But that's not what happened...
A: Well, what did happen?
M: I guess the bag must've been munched in there too tight, and the little spiral thingy wouldn't let it go, so it's stuck in there...
A: Alright, how much did you say it was?
M: 65 cents
A: Okay. Here you are. Just don't go back and lose it again...
M: {for the love of...} What?
A: Well people just go right back and put their money in again and lose it, and then they're right back up here needing another refund.
M: {doggone naggy cranky assuming...} Okie. I'll keep that in mind.

Sheesh. It's not like I'm up there ruining her life on a daily basis trying to snag coins out of the little white envelope. And I'm sorry the whole building is forcing her to dish out change hand over fist, and maybe I'm the straw that breaks the camel's back every nine months when snackfood technology goes haywire. But maybe if she asked what happened instead of assuming I'm a twit to begin with, we could all have a better day.

Oh my gosh, and don't even walk up to the desk and try to tell her you forgot your ID badge and need a temporary one.

Oy.

Jeremy

Interludes

Well, it's a barfing bonanza at the Perez household again. Giselle must've brought something home from school because she blew chunks Thursday night, and then all day yesterday, Harrison was chain-puking everywhere. At least Giselle knows to run to the bathroom...except at 3 in the morning. Hopefully we've paid our dues for the next 3 or 4 months before the next kindergarten plague strikes.

Yesterday morning I went over to Sunset Crater to get some sunrise pictures. It's a really nice hike, espcially at 6 in the morning when there's nobody else there. It's very quiet and peaceful.

First rays of sun hitting Sunset Crater.

Cool little magenta flowers that poked up out of the cinders here & there.

Another view from the Northeast.

The park road runs along the edge of the volcano on the North side.

Twisty aspen growing through a fissure in the Bonito Lava Flow.

View from the bottom of the Lava Flow Trail.

Trees growing in the cinder hills.

Jeremy

Complaint Department

So I've obviously been having some issues with the tp dispensers here at work. I attached that request to the bathroom cleaning checklist. It's so stinking frustrating trying to grab a few squares of paper only to have little bits rip off in your hand because the rolls are mashed together like a refugees in a cargo box. So you have to give up and use the huge county-fair sized roll in the overhead dispenser that's the same consistency as a paper grocery bag. Argh. So far, no results. We had a little laugh the other day about everybody bringing their own roll of tp to work and carrying it under their arm everytime they head to the john. Heheh. Rich said there really shouldn't be any shame in that. TP is a commodity in many parts of the world. Yep. We can send a man to the moon, but I have to choose between sandpaper or a handfull of confetti-sized fluff when I'm at my most vulnerable.

Man this is weak. I need to get some better material.

Jeremy

Overcast

It's been raining like crazy the past few days.

It's been a hellacious past couple weeks for me at work, and my attitude really stinks right now.

Carol Braunshausen passed away last week. She was 51. Breast cancer claimed her life. I've known her husband Kevin for a few short years. I had dinner with them when I was visiting San Francisco exactly two years ago. At that point she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was in the beginnings of staging and treatment. We talked a bit about all the rigamarole she had to go to with the oncologists and radiologists, and some of the things that I went through when I was treated for Hodgkins. I remember her being aggravated by some of the cancer support groups she had contacted, where various survivors would go on and on about the gory details of their treatments and the ensuing side effects, and how she just really didn't want to hear that right then. I remember at the instant she said that, how I felt suddenly self-conscious that I might've just done the same thing to her moments earlier with my stories. When you're a cancer survivor, I guess it's kind of easy to be glib about what happened to you, like Hooper, Quint and Brody getting wasted after a harrowing day of shark hunting and propping their legs up on the table to show off their scars. Somebody who is about to embark on such a dreadful battle, and have their very life hanging in the balance obviously isn't going to want to hear war stories and cavalier advice. And it's really easy to slip into that when you're a survivor who is all pumped up from living through your own battle.

In the two years since then, Kevin posted updates as to how her treatment and prognosis were going. From the very outset, she was pummelled with debilitating side effects, complications and setbacks. But I rooted for her, knowing she would be a survivor. Breast cancer has survivors. And you believe that the people you know will be those survivors. And she fought on. The things she went through were far worse than what I had to endure. I can imagine...but I can't imagine. But I still knew she would pull through.

Then the cancer metastasized.

And the treatments got worse. And she continued to fight. Jeez this is bringing tears to my eyes. The docs were trying all sorts of harsh but hopeful things, and I thought, one of these has got to work. But then the cancer finally made its way to her brain. It was everywhere. The radiologist made one last-ditch effort to halt it, but that insidious disease wouldn't let go. So Carol and Kevin had to finally let go instead. Her life was miserable and there was no holding this thing back. She died last Tuesday, September 3rd. I can't possibly imagine what Kevin was feeling through all this, and how he is able to deal with things now. It just tears me apart. I was lucky. Carol was not. Breast cancer is a horrible, treacherous thing. There's nothing fair about any of it.

A year ago today, over 3000 people were killed in horribly violent spurts over the course of a couple hours. Among those were fourteen people with whom I share my faith. It's a simple fact that we feel loss more strongly for those with whom we share blood, a belief, a cause or a friendship. But the families of each of those thousands of people have a heartrending story and a strong legacy of pain to cope with. There's just too much grief for me to embrace today.

I need a nap.

Jeremy

Weekend Warriors

Today, a friend of mine invited me out for some redneck, cinderpit shooting. So Jon, his kid, three other guys and I headed out for some mayhem. What a hoot. It's not a class act. The cinderpits are an absolute junkyard of garbage that people have brought out to meet a shredded demise. You can tell some folks came out with the noblest of intentions with their tidy little paper targets and neat little makeshift wooden target holders. But after poking a few holes somewhere in the dinner-plate-sized black circle, you can tell they realized they were missing out, because the targets were still there with only 7 or 8 holes in them, but the legs had been shot off the stand, and broke piece of he stand had been set up nearby to hold aloft what was probably once a piece of fruit.

So we just forego the whole professional target sheet thing and start looking for likely pieces of garbage to prop up on the hill that's about 100 yards downrange, and start blasting away.

Despite our overall poor form, Jon's arsenal is top notch. He had recently picked up a couple of competition target guns. One was a 22 caliber rifle that sported an incredible sighting mechanism with loads of dials and levers on it. You could pick off anything with that sucker. Then there was the target pistol he picked up that shot these huge deer-rifle rounds. Wow. What a cannon. Not only did it sound like a howitzer, but it spouted a gout of flame as big as a softball. My favorite is still the 12-guage double barrel shotgun. My shoulder still hurts from firing both barrels off at once. Heh, it's a total "guy" thing, but that just kicked so much butt.

Here's a pic of Jon unloading both barrels into a jar of spoiled ranch dressing:

My hands still smell like gunpowder.

Domestically speaking...
We're getting geared up to enclose the garage, so I spent some time this morning measuring every nook, cranny and crevice. Owning this place has introduced me to so many things I never figured I'd mess with. Framing walls, doors and windows? Sheesh. But like any modern suburbanite, I have serious need of a garage I can store all my crap in. We have one whole room of our house that is completely, utterly unusable due to all the debris we have packed in there. It would be really nice to turn that room into something that a human could actually enter. Someday soon...

Jeremy