Nothing Ugly

"I think if I got a henna I'd have it right here," she said, indicating a spot on her shoulder blade.

"What would you get?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing ugly!" I, understandably, asked her to elaborate, indicating that one person's ugly isn't necessarily someone else's. "Oh, you know, like a skull and cross bones, or something."

"Ah," I said, "well, I have a skull tattoo on my shoulder." We laughed as I casually took a drink from my water bottle. As I was replacing the cap I noticed the skull and crossbones on my splash guard. "Actually, it looks just like this!" I said, turning my water bottle her way, so that she could see the image printed there.



We laughed at her embarrassment. "Who would have thought you would have a skull on your water bottle!" she laughed.

"Well, um, since I have skulls on my shirt, it's not that far fetched." We continued laughing. The guy that was with us laughed along.

"Ok, well, what I really meant was spikes! and ugly things like that!!" she declared, trying to salvage the situation.

"Oh, you mean like on my belt?" I said, showing her the studded belt I happened to be wearing.

I think she wanted to crawl under a rock and die. We all laughed, during which I reassured her that I wasn't offended, and I knew what she meant.

"You know, you were really right!" she managed through laughter and tears, "one man's junk is another man's treasure!"

Fortunately for her, she stopped saying things she found ugly and wouldn't put on herself.

Baby's First Henna

Here are some pictures of my very first real henna. I've given myself henna before, but it was pretty light, and not great paste. This one I think is gonna look awesome!


Initial design. Yeah, I think that's gonna work.


After I actually got the paste on. Looks a little different, but I'm liking it. By the way, that's my right ankle.

Not too shabby for my first foray into serious henna-ing.


And... a couple days later.

What Part of 'No'?

This weekend found me at a 'Mid Single's Conference'. That's single Mormon's ages 27-45. Well, I guess I qualify.

Saturday afternoon a group of us were going kayaking on Lake Union. We gathered at the meeting point, and waited. After a bit a friend of mine suggested that we just head out. There was a guy we had never met waiting for a ride, so I said he could carpool with us. Mistake number one.

By the time we got into downtown it had become more than a little apparent that he was lacking in the social skills department. Including his utter lack of ability to pick up on very obvious social cues, like, for example, when my friend said, "Don't get me wet!" he persisted in telling her that he was going to soak her.

We rented our kayak and headed out. Our new 'friend' declared that he had kayaked before, and even had a (yes) "boating merit badge". Yes, as in, Boy Scouts. Never mind that he had to be at least 35 years old. This still, made him an expert kayaker. To protect my friend from getting wet I sat in the middle of our 3 person kayak. He decided that he should have the back (thus making him in charge of the rudder), which left her in the front.

In case you're wondering: he doesn't know right from left. Or, rather, his "merit badge expertise" told him that if we wanted to go right he should push his left foot on the rudder control down. Now, I know that rudders are backwards, but kayaks have the rudders in the logical fashion. Which means: left foot = go left, right foot = go right. In fact, the dude who rented us the kayak even told us as much.

At one point I was yelling at Chucky to "Go RIGHT!" and to, therefor, push the right pedal. He had the audacity to say to me, "Clearly you don't know as much about boats as I do." His inability to figure out that every time he adjusted the rudder and we went the wrong way meant that, maybe, just maybe, I was right, lead me to controlling our direction by paddling and dragging my paddle in the water to force turns. It worked. Thank heavens! At one point Chucky "caught" me doing this and asked, "Granola! What are you doing!?!"

"Making us turn the right way, since you can't!" I snapped. Amazingly, he still didn't figure it out.

An unpleasant hour later we decided to return to the dock. As we were standing in line to pay for our rental he said to me, "If you want to go see Indiana Jones" (I had mentioned it to my friend on the drive in) "on Tuesday, I'll take you."

"Uh, thanks," was my first reply, then, blissfully, InternBill came to my rescue, "but, my boy is going to be into that night, and I don't think he'd approve." (We call him my 'boy toy' at work, so I just dropped the 'toy' part.)

"Well, I didn't realize you have a boyfriend," he said. I thought that would be the end of that.

As we walked back to the car he invited me to his birthday party and said, "You can even bring your boyfriend."

"Thanks, I probably wouldn't go without him."

"And, you two are going camping, I heard." This, again, was from the drive in. If he had heard that, you'd think he would have made the jump that I'm kind of into this dude. Well, you and I thought wrong.

"Yup." I replied, though I haven't decided if I'm going camping on Tuesday or not.

"Well, as long as you two sleep in separate tents." He chastised me.

Excuse me? Who the hell are you to tell me what sleeping arrangements I can and cannot have? When did you suddenly become my bishop? I didn't even bother to respond.

Miserably, we finally limped back into the stake center where he continued to follow me around, and be all sorts of unpleasant. Annoying things he did included:
1. sitting on the arm of the chair I was sitting in--ignorant to the fact that I was leaning as far away from him as possible.
2. insulting vegans upon learning that I am one.
3. hanging around even after I walked away.
4. following me around.

He also went to the same lecture I did, going so far as to sit in the row in front of me when I made sure that my row was packed full.

I came home for dinner, and upon returning to the church building the 'fun' started anew.

I walked away, ignored, ignored and walked away for about an hour before deciding to just head home. I ran into a couple of friends in the hallway and we chatted for a while, then he came up to us, pad of paper and pen in hand, looking for my phone number and email address.

I didn't even smile at him as I said, "Actually, I'd rather not give you my phone number or email address. I hope you have a nice evening...and life." Then I turned back to my friends.

Now, usually I'm not that rude to people, however, I was done with this, and had tried to let him down nicely, hours before.

"Ok," he said, "well, I might not make it tomorrow, but I'll see you around."

"Ok. Have fun tomorrow." I said, as kindly as I could muster.

"No, I might not make it tomorrow." he repeated.

"Well, have fun doing whatever you do."

"Will you be here?" he half demanded.

"I don't know, maybe."

"Well, I'll see you at church."

"No," I corrected, "I won't be at church." I'll be going to my own ward, thankyouverymuch.

"Oh. Yeah, you probably have a calling in your ward."

"No. Actually, I'm not Mormon." I said, desperate to get him to go away.

"Oh? You're not? Ok."

I don't know if that finally got him to decide to move on, but, what a lame thing to finally have to say to hopefully get him to go away. And, really? Not Mormon? At a Mormon conference? Wow. Yeah...

If I see him tomorrow I'm going to have to be even more blunt and rude than I was tonight. I'm not sure I have it in me.

Favors

Fox told me that there were a few Deaf people in her ward, and the usual interpreters (who are volunteers) aren't all that great. I didn't fully believe her until I sat through Sacrament meeting and could hardly understand the interpreter.

During Sunday School I sat with them and chatted briefly before class. At one point the signer asked me for a word, which I had forgotten. Then, quickly, remembered. I gave it to her, and on she went. She was better than the interpreter during Sacrament meeting, but not that good.

After Sunday School she asked if I would interpret for Relief Society because she had to leave a bit early. I said sure, and went and made myself comfortable.

The lesson went well, and I discovered how many church signs I had managed to forget. Also, how lousy my finger spelling is.

After class, however, the deaf sister I had interpreted for asked me if I was an interpreter. "No." I told her. "Years ago I took some classes, but never got my license because I have a minor hearing problem which makes it hard to hear everything." This was evidenced by the few times I had to tell her that I couldn't hear or understand the people who were speaking.

I think the things that made her ask were:
1. I was actually able to keep relatively close to the speed of the class, and capture what was said.
2. When people in the class raised their hands to make comments I indicated that someone had raised their hand, and their location in the room before interpreting what they said.
3. The sister teaching the lesson got overwhelmed with emotion at a few points and I noted those times so she'd know what was going on.
4. I kept the editorializing to a minimum, but there were a few times when I indicated that the room was silent (after a question), or that someone had a notable inflection.
5. Body shifting for different speakers.
6. At one point the teacher said something, then paused... then said another word...then paused longer... then said some more... (she was having difficulty speaking, mostly due to emotion, but also due to the fact that she has a speech impediment). When that happened I signed what she said...then ... each... word... as she managed it. The end result was an exacting emphasis as the teacher had spoken it.
7. The two times that I was unable to make out fully what was being said (a quiet speaker in the back of the room, and the teacher's speech) I indicated that I couldn't hear/understand what was said. But, as soon as I figured it out I gave a summary, by first indicating, "Ah! Summary:" I think that was really helpful.

Anyway, wow. What a great opportunity. I love interpreting, I just wish I were better.

Oh, and the sister who asked me to interpret for Relief Society made her way over to Sissi's house that evening and thanked me for interpreting, and to let me know that she enjoyed watching me sign. She also asked if I was as interpreter.

With any luck she learned a few new things on Sunday that will help her be a better interpreter.

Upgrade

When booking the tickets for everyone's flights I intentionally booked myself arriving just about the same time as my parents and little sister. Then I announced that I had every intention of renting a car, so I would drive us all to the city where my sisters live.

Cleverly, I booked an economy banking on the fact that even if they gave me a little Geo Metro we were arriving after midnight, so they'd probably be out and have to upgrade me to at least a Corolla or something. When we finally got they car the clerk asked me if it was just me, or if I had anyone with me. I said, "well, I've got the family," and motioned to my parents and sister.

"Let me see here," she said, trying to be helpful, "we currently have you in a Mustang, but we can upgrade you to a Crown Victoria for only $25 a day."

I laughed, "nah! It's a short drive, they can sit around their luggage!"

We got to the car and I was more than a little pleased to discover that my car was cherry red. YES! I managed to cram the luggage, and my parents into the car and make the short 2 1/2 hour drive to my sister's house.

Let me just share with you that I loved every second of driving that car! It's a really good thing I don't own a sports car, but it made me want one.

Opinionated

After the wedding ceremony we all gathered inside the groom's mother's house for the toasts. Mumsy joined the drink passer-outers handing champaign to pretty much everyone but our family (we were the only Mormons there). She offered me a 7-up, but I declined saying, "water's good for me, thanks." Slightly surprised she asked, "You don't drink 7-up?" "Nope!" I replied, "that crap'll kill ya!" Then, laughingly I walked into teh kitchen to get myself some water.

At that moment one of the groom's older cousins huffed to her sister, "Well, she's not opinionated or anything, is she?"

The maid of honor who happened to be standing nearby took it upon herself to explain, "She's vegan." They had no clue what that was, but were suddenly certain that I had some sort of incurable disease which included death by soda. Horrified at that prospect they asked what a 'vegan' is. She explained it as, "they don't take anything animal products, or anything harmful, into their bodies." They asked if it was like vegetarian, and she explained that, yes, it was, but it is more than that. Essentially, she explained to them that I'm straight edge (true, but that's more than vegan).

I summed it up for all of them, "It's like vegetarian, but worse!" That got a good chuckle and smoothed some of the ruffled feathers. I did have to explain to them that I don't drink soda or caffeine either. I don't think they believed either of us.

Have a Nice Trip

My oldest sister, Sissi, got married (again) on Saturday. The whole fam, sans our brother, flew to podunkville for the wedding. All in all, it was a really great trip, not too many complaints. But, yeah, that's where I've been. Miss me?

Good Luck

InternBill's road trip starts this week. Good luck to him there. I hope they have loads of fun.

I kind of expected him to send me at least a text message when he left, but, alas, nope. Oh well. I think I'm looking forward to 2 weeks without him confusing me.

Yes, yes I am.

Wish him luck (and safty) on the trip.
And me luck that I'll not go out of my head.

I Don't Know, Either

LaBoca made a, predictably, bad decision today. I pushed back and asked her why she was doing what she was doing. I identified two problems and suggested alternative solutions.

Her curt reply said, essentially, "I'm not a moron, Granola, and I have every intention of doing this horribly bad thing." Her reasoning, I'm certain, is that it makes her look good to external teams. Say nothing of the extra work she's causing for us, or the lack of confidence she's instilling.

My buddy (who is her direct report) replied to her email questioning her logic. She called him into her office to 'talk' about it. He told me shortly thereafter that we had probably best be on our best behavior, and walk on eggshells around her.

I feel bad for drawing him into my mess, and understand why he feels that way. I, on the other hand, have no intention of bowing down to her—there is very little she can do to me.

Later another coworker came over to my desk and we sat around and gossiped about her incompetency for about 30 minutes. No one was around, except one fellow. However, I wasn't particularly worried about him overhearing. Plus, we never said her name.

At one point I expressed the opinion that I had no clue how she managed to rise to the level she's at, given her utter incompetency. My coworker suggested that people rise to the level that is their own incompetency, and then flounder in those positions, getting nothing done, and raising no further. In this case, I hope he's right.

After he left my neighbor popped his head over the cube wall, "For what it's worth, Granola, I have no idea how she got to that level either. She used to work with us, and she caused more problems than she solved."

Excellent. The people who know what a train wreck she is are all in exactly the wrong position to do a thing about it.

Interviews

I had two "interviews" today.

The first one was with a team internal to InternetCompany. Mostly we just chatted about the position and the team. This one would be a promotion. I'm excited for the opportunity, and hope I get the chance. I have to tell my boss that I'm looking around, so I have to wait until he gets back from vacation before I can officially apply. Definitely going to follow through with them.

The second was a phone screen with an outdoors company. I felt like I really nailed the interview, until the last few questions. The interviewer asked what I consider to be my greatest career failure. Personally, I think this is the crappiest question. The interviewer doesn't really learn anything here. Also, I've been really blessed to have consistently been on major projects that launch, and look good. The other question that I think really blew my chances with them came down to salary.

"So, how much do you make at InternetCompany?"

"Around $X k."

"So $X-1k?"

"No, right around $X k."

"$X+1k?"

"No. $X and change."

He wasn't excited about that figure, but went on to ask what my salary requirements would be of them. "Well, honestly, I'm in Seattle, and I'd like to maintain the same standard of living, so right around that amount."

"Um, just so you know, we work 40-45 hour work weeks usually."

"Um... okay...? Don't most people?"

"No, some work 50 or so."

"Oh, well, I work 40-45. I do work more when required, but I like to keep that to a minimum."

"I see, so with that in mind, about what is your salary expectation?"

"Right around $X k."

Sounds like I'm too rich for their blood. After that he kind of wrapped up the interview. I've done enough of these phone screens myself to know when the answer is 'no,' and I'm pretty sure the answer is going to be 'Thanks for applying, but I don't think it's going to work out." Too bad, I'd love to work for them.

Entitlement

What is it that makes those on government assistance not use coupons or grocery store savings cards?

This question (in a much more verbose form) was posed on the office chatter board today. I couldn't let it rest and responded with: "The simple and cynical answer is: entitlement."

I went on to elaborate, and finished up with:

"I think it has a lot to do with getting things for no effort. People who have to earn things, or build things for themselves tend to respect or value said item (be it money, or housing) far more than those who don't. A great example is Habitat for Humanity vs. the Projects. Those who help build their own home via Habitat for Humanity (and similar projects) tend (TEND) to take far better care of their home than those living in the Projects.

"* All of that said: yes, there are exceptions to everything, and I'm certain someone has counter examples, however, as someone who knows a disproportionately large number of welfare recipients (compared to the average Amazonian) I speak from experience and observation."

Someone replied with the predicable Jack Handy quote "Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes."

Frankly, that response irks me far more than I can possibly express. Who are they to assume that because I have a well paying job that I was always that way? I believe I have addressed this very issue on the chatter board, but things change, people come and go, and rather than get in a flame war I responded with "Having spent some time during my childhood on government assistance, I've both walked a mile in their shoes, and I have the shoes to prove it."

I was then accused of being a "welfare queen." Uh.. Wha?

I've found that people have an interesting set of reactions to welfare and how those around them respond to it based on their personal experience. It looks something like this:

Deus ex Machina

Today at church we were talking about Christ and the Atonement. The topic of discussion was how we have to partake of it. Yes, the Atonement happened, but we have to humble ourselves and reach out for it and use it. And, the super cool thing is: we can utilize the blessings of the Atonement throughout our lives.

Then something amazing occurred to me: Christ's Atonement isn't a deus ex machina. It is with us, always and forever, waiting to be used. Christ doesn't swing in on a crane at the end of the play and save us from our sins—He's there all along, walking beside us. Then, at the end, when we've done all we can do, He extends His amazing mercy and saves us in our sins.

Nope, Not There

I have an Aunt and Uncle currently serving their mission in Malaysia. When they were first called we talked about me coming to visit them.

I emailed my aunt last week and asked about it. She told me that the island they're on is far enough off the map to be difficult to get to, but not far enough off the map to be cool. She encouraged me to not come, and, instead, go somewhere else fun and interesting.

I'm a little bummed, because, well, that would have been cool. Oh well.

I was talking about it with InternBill who took it very much in stride: "Well, now you get to drive with me back to Yellowstone:-)!" he offered in the way of a consolation prize.

I turned down his suggestion, but countered with, "We could go somewhere else though."

Um, did I just plan to go on a road trip with InternBill? Magic 8-ball says, "Signs point to yes."

A Young Man's Fancy

"In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. (Locksley Hall, Alfred, Lord Tennyson.)"

It's that time of year again. The sun is shining (finally), the flowers are blooming, and young lovers are strolling through the park hand-in-hand, basking in each other's glow.

Meanwhile: I sit here in my living room, shades drawn, updating my blog.

Lovely, just lovely.