The Miata sat unused all day in the garage. After sleeping in we walked downtown to the New Moon Cafe for muffins. When we got back home there was brief talk of going for a drive, but I pooh-pooh the idea to stay home and read.
A friend (Hi Rae!) got a new notebook for Christmas, a nice Ruby Red Inspiron and when I saw it I was very jealous, it made my 2-year old laptop look down right dowdy. I considered painting the silver lid with some of the Garnet Red in a can I have left over, so it would match the Emperor. That seemed like an awful lot of trouble. I decided to take the easy way out — a Pixel Decal laptop skin.
I didn’t think I would watch all 29 episodes in Season 1, but I thought would make it past 15 minutes of the un-aired pilot. I have little memory of watching Lost in Space when it originally aired. I do remember having a crush on Penny though, as she and I were roughly the same age. And I do remember Dr. Smith always calling the robot names like, “You bumbling bubble-headed buffoon.” Neither of those two characters were in the un-aired pilot. We almost turned it off at about 10 minutes in as the meteors that that sent the Jupiter II (called the Gemini XII here) off course turned out to be easily recognizable as wadded up aluminum foil. What finally made me hit the eject button was the 1-2 combination of terrible acting by Mark Goddard as Professor Don West and Guy Williams as Captain James Robinson when they tried to give the impression they were battling high winds on a mountain top followed by the “giant” one-eyed monster that showed up in forced perspective dressed in an outfit made of squares of burlap bags. Couldn’t take the cheese anymore.
Used up all my words yesterday.
…didn’t get picked.
I was glad I didn’t get selected, but would not have been disappointed had I been. This wasn’t for a regular trial session jury, but for Grand Jury duty. You would have to report one Thursday per month (more if needed) to decide if the prosecution’s case had merit for trial and if it did, hand down indictments. There are 18 Grand Jurors, 12 picked today for the year of 2008 and 6 returning members from 2007. So, although today’s lucky selectees were chosen to serve for one year, half of them would get held over and serve a second year.
First, all of us assembled in an unused court room and then at the appointed time we were guided into the actual court room. The judge came in and then the Clerk called the role. We were numbered alphabetically, so because my last name starts with a B I was a low number. As the clerk called our number, starting at #1 and going all the way up to #99, we had to stand and say aloud our name. They skipped quite a few numbers/names, leading me to believe some folks had called in with excuses already.
After everyone had sounded off, the clerk informed the judge he had 64 perspective jurors with one no-show. He asked the missing persons name and then told his bailiff to inform the Sheriff’s Office that he wanted a bench warrant issued for that person to be before him next Monday at 9:30. The judge then read a series of questions that if you could answer yes to you might be excused from duty. One person was excused because they had moved to Augusta (last weekend) and two more were excused for medical reasons. There were about a half dozen who had hardships that made it inconvenient to serve once a month and they got swapped into the regular jury pool for a two week session later in the year.
This left about 55 people eligible for the 15 spots (twelve plus three alternates) giving me a 27% chance of getting chosen. Our juror number and names were written on small slips of paper and loaded into a “high tech’ metal box the size of a cigar box and professional shaken up by the Assistant Clerk of Court. The slips of paper were then drawn out one at a time.
The first number called was for a woman seated right behind me. She muttered an expletive under her breath as she made her way up front. The woman sitting next to me went “Oh my,” in mock surprise. I whispered to her, “Yeah, she didn’t seem to happy about that.” About halfway through calling the 12 Grand Jurors, the clerk called out, “Juror number six — ty seven.” My heart skipped a beat there. I figured for sure that I was going to get picked as one of three alternates, but didn’t.
All of us unwanted jurors were directed back to the original room where we were given a written excuse for work and a check for $20.
Thanks Aiken County for buying my wife and I BBQ at Bobby’s for tonight’s dinner.
Second day of the year and I’ve already run out of things to blog about. Maybe tomorrow, I start a week of Jury Duty for the Aiken County Circuit Court. Can’t promise anything, because if I get selected for a jury I won’t be able to talk about it.
Today’s sky was as uneventful as yesterday’s, but I decided to take a photo anyway. I went out on the deck in mid-afternoon and recreated, as best as possible, lat night’s Last of 2007 Enchanted Ceiling picture. Now I have to take precious minutes of the new year and post them to the site.
Rambo? How old is Stallone?
How do they expect to sell me on the merits of High Definition DVDs or Blueray Discs by broadcasting clips of movies into my living room on my analog TV?
You would have thunk it was a religious holiday with the amount of places that weren’t open today. Because it was a relatively nice day, sunny, mid 50s, we decided to walk the mile up to a shopping center and get a pizza. Roma Pizza was closed. No problem, there is a Moe’s on the other side of the parking lot. Problem, they were closed too, so we kept walking. About a half a mile further was a shopping center with a Japanese restaurant and an Indian one too. One of those were bound to be open. Nope. We had one last hope before settling on a sub sandwich from the deli of the grocery store that was on the way home. It didn’t look open, but the OPEN sign was lit. We tried the door and entered the Jade of China. Fortunately the Year of the Rat starts on February 7th and not January 1st.
January
Wednesday the 17th
Ahhhh, me!
As part of our comprehensive retirement plan Donna and I play the Powerball Lottery every drawing. We will plop down $10 and get a quick pick set of numbers that are good for the next 5 weeks of Wednesday and Friday drawings.
Letting the machine pick the numbers for us is the best way to go. We used to play some family birthdays, but never won anything so what good are they. Besides, we had more than 6 birthdays to choose from, so we had to leave some numbers off. Then what would have happened if we were to miss the jackpot by one number and that one number was one of the omitted birthdays. How would we feel towards the person who had the birthday number that was wrong? How would we feel towards the person whose birthday we left off and would have won it for us?
When you go to a Chinese restaurant and you get a fortune cookie now a days they include a set of “lucky” numbers for the lottery. Well, a couple of years ago I got a fortune that said, “Financial prosperity is coming your way!” Seeing this as a good omen, I tucked it into my wallet with the intention of giving those numbers a try, but never got around to it.
Yesterday while chatting with a co-worker (Hi, Mark) I mentioned that seeing as the Powerball was up to 180 million that just maybe I’d go buy an extra shot at the prize. I told him about my lucky numbers and he asked to see my fortune slip. I thought he was kidding when he wrote them down and said he was going to play them. This morning he told me that he really bought a ticket using those numbers.
Tonight on the way home from getting our hair cut I stopped at a quick mart and bought a ticket using the “lucky” numbers too. Had to. Just imagine how I would have felt if he hit with those numbers that I had been carrying around in my wallet for years and never played. That’s right, the only thing left to do at that point would be Seppuku.
February
Monday the 5th
When I went for my esophagogastroduodenoscopy (I just love that word, I can’t say it, but boy does it look impressive written down) on Friday, I had a hospital arrival time of 7:30 and a procedure time of 8:30. Donna dropped me off about 7:15 so she could get to work at her normal hour. The patient registration clerks were ready and efficient, so when I entered the Endoscopy Lab where I was to have my procedure, I was very early. All the nurses were sitting in a big circle drinking coffee, cutting up and laughing. When I was noticed, everyone quieted down and one of the nurses directed me to the waiting room and told me they would call me when they were ready for me. They were probably having a morning staff meeting or something, but they sure were a happy bunch with all that laughing.
Whatever the feel good juice is that they give you before the scoping, it is awesome. One of the nurses stuck the needle in the IV and said this will take about 5 minutes to kick in. I looked up at the clock and saw that it was 9:05 and I thought that I better remind the doctor that I wanted a picture of my insides, when the next thing I knew I was in the recovery area and a nurse asked if I wanted a Coke to drink. Memories of the next hour or two are very scattered, for me. My wife will tell you different. Apparently I babbled on and on, repeating everything I said two or three times. Donna even tells me I was tormenting the other patients, particularly a woman who was in for a colonoscopy. I have zero recall of any of this. I wonder what else I was saying?
Over the weekend I figured out what all those nurses were laughing at when I walked in on them Friday morning and why they went so silent so fast. They were probably comparing notes on how their patients had acted and what they said while under the influence of the anesthesia the day before.
I expect they all had a pretty good laugh about me at this morning’s meeting.
March
Saturday the 24th
We went for a nice long walk in Hitchcock Woods this morning and boy was it crowded. We saw 4 people on horses and three people walking their dogs. One of our favorite pastimes while walking is to make up elaborate histories of people who have trails named after them. Mrs. Knox, Mr. Fletcher, Willie Barton, etc. This “lane” is named for the great Civil War General Beauregard Nimrod who died in 1864 while either defending Aiken from the vile northern aggressors or from friendly fire after berating the beloved company mess sergeant because he felt his grits were undercooked.
From Ask Yahoo:
The American Heritage Dictionary offers two distinct definitions of a nimrod — either a hunter, or a person regarded as silly or foolish. The dictionary goes on to explain that the second meaning probably originated with the cartoon character Bugs Bunny. The wily Bugs used the term in its original sense to refer to dithering hunter Elmer Fudd, whom he called a “poor little Nimrod.” Over time, however, the “hunter” meaning got dropped, and the “dithering” connotation stuck.
April
Tuesday the 17th
While in DC the other week, after we walked to a lot of the war memorials in West Potomac Park we headed over to the Tidal Basin to see if we could find any cherry trees that still had blossoms on it. Unfortunately there were only a few. There are about three or four varieties of cherry trees planted around the basin so that some of them bloom at different times, but during our walk we only came across about three trees that looked like they were at their peak. Because of the great distances between bloomed trees, my dream of a sweeping panorama of blooming trees with the Jefferson Memorial in the background (very postcard-like) was squashed. I did take a couple of close ups of one blooming tree. As we strolled along I was looking down reviewing my last pictures when – SMACK -my head hit a low hanging branch. I know now why George Washington chopped down that cherry tree. It wasn’t bad enough to make me see stars, but I did decide from then forward that I would wait until I was stopped to look down at the camera’s LCD.
May
Wednesday the 23rd
Today was Donna and my annual eye exams. Good news is that neither of us have any issues nor have our eyes changed enough to warrant getting new glasses.
We went mid afternoon and some six hours later the drops they put in your eyes to dilate them has not entirely worn off. I think I could take a book into a closet and read it with the light off. You know your pupils are open wide when the little WinXP screensaver (bouncing logo on black background) has a bright rainbow hued halo around it.
I remember a couple of years ago we went late afternoon and by the time we left the Eye Guy’s place it was dusk. The sun was down but the sky was still light. Most cars were driving with their lights on and both headlights and taillights were giving off these awesome starburst patterns. Even the traffic signals looked like they were being viewed through a starburst filter. Very cool effect, but it was difficult to concentrate on actually driving and not running into anything while looking at all the pretty lights.
June
Sunday the 3rd
We expected a Sebring for our convertible rental in Seattle, but ended up in a PT Cruiser. Not a lot of trunk room in it, more than a Miata, but nowhere near as much space as in a Sebring. It was a smaller car than we normally get, so you would have thunk it would be easier to maneuver in tight spots, but you would be wrong. It had the turning radius of a bus, which I guess goes right along with the very high seating position. I’ve always kind of liked the looks of the PT Cruiser and the convertible has only 2-doors which I think looks even better than the standard 4-door version, but apparently it is not as distinctive as I thought. On one of our ferry rides we were stopped next to a car load of twenty-something females and the driver asked me what kind of car we were in. I replied, “PT Cruiser.” “Oh,” she says, “I thought it was a Beetle.”
July
Monday the 16th
On our way back to the hospital in Florence on Saturday, Susie asked if I would stop at a McDonald’s so young Katlin could get a Happy Meal. Ever the obliging driver I spotted a Mickie D’s and got in the drive up line. Susie also wanted a Snack Wrap or something for herself. Because the only thing I have ordered at a McDonald’s Drive Up in the last three decades is a Hot Fudge Sundae, Susie would tell me what to repeat into the microphone; in essence translating McDonald’s speak through me. After we ordered and the team member inside told us, “Dat ill be foe six dee.” I got to repay the earlier favor by translating Southern for Susie, and told her that the total for the food was four dollars and sixty cents.
At the second window we received our two bags of stuff. Susie’s wrap in one and the Happy Meal in the other. When Susie pulled out the toy from the Happy Meal bag it was a Monster Wheel obviously intended for a boy. I tried to hand it back to the team member in the window saying, “Could we get a girl’s toy?” She wouldn’t take it back; they were all out of girl’s toys. With no Hello Kitty toy on the horizon and rather than get
nothing, Katlin excepted the neon green wheel thing with a frown.
To try and lighten the moment I told Katlin that I guess she didn’t get a Happy Meal after all, but instead she got an Un Happy Meal.
Well, I thought it was funny.
August
Thursday the 9th
Yesterday at 2:35 PM I scraped my arm. The nurse and I spent 20 minutes treating it. We then spent the next 15 minutes examining the scene of the crime and recreating the event. We then called in the maintenance supervisor to have him look at the offending junction box cover and he then got a maintenance guy to remove the cover, smooth off the sharp edge and then replace it. Another 30 minutes used up. From there we ended up in my boss’s office while he, the nurse, and I filled out the accident report, spending another half hour. Pretty much killing the rest of the work day.
Today the nurse spent almost 2-1/2 hours with me, driving me to two different doctor’s offices, so I could get my tetanus shot. (At the first place we went, the front office person “couldn’t get me in the computer”, so we left after an hour.) Back at the plant we spent the next 45 minutes together to 1) re bandage the cut because the doctor did a lackluster job after he spent all of 10 seconds looking at it, 2) filling out the appropriate paperwork to have me take a drug test and 3) me peeing in a cup and her testing it. Later my boss brought around the accident report for me to sign (anther 2 minutes, but who knows how long it took to complete it.)
Next week the Director of Operations, the Facilities Manager, the HR Manager, my supervisor, his Manager, the supervisor of the department I was passing through and his manager will meet to discuss how to prevent this from happening again. More than likely after all of these folks spend an hour in a room, a maintenance man will be dispatched to reroute the offending junction box and it’s associated conduit, another maintenance man will be dispatched to place yellow tape on the floor to designate an official aisle and the department supervisor will spend a half an hour instructing his people not to place pallets in the new aisle.
This was not considered a lost time accident, even though over 8 man hours have been spent on it so far, with lots more to come, because I did not “miss” any work.
As a bonus, as far as OSHA is concerned it is not a recordable accident because I did not require stitches, x-rays, or antibiotics (tetanus shots don’t count) so our company’s accident free hours numbers don’t get reset.
September
Tuesday the 4th
Once every couple of weeks I’ll have a snack attack and head into the cafeteria to quench it. My usual extinguisher of choice is Lance’s Peanut Butter on Nekot cookies. These have two draws, 1) I like ’em and 2) they are only 50¢. Today I opted to go wild and get a candy bar of some kind. It had been awhile since I had a Butterfinger bar, so I pressed E9. I know it had been awhile because the last time I bought one it was 65 cents, today the price tag below my selection said 75¢.
The only problem with buying a Butterfinger from a vending machine is you don’t usually get to bite off pieces to eat; falling from the E Row always busts the bar up into a bunch of uneven chunks. When I got back to my desk, I opened up the wrapper and sure enough there were 3 big pieces and one small piece inside.
As I savored that crispety and crunchety candy I read the label and discovered that each English word was followed immediately by its Spanish counterpart – Bar followed by Barra on the front for example. I’ve noticed some of the larger chain stores around here have gotten into the same act, Wal-Mart, Lowes, etc. Men with a smaller Hombres underneath. Doors -> Puertas.
I don’t like it. Not for the reason you think either, I don’t like the cacophony (ruido) of it, English and Spanish. Just pick one. Hell, I don’t even care if you pick Spanish. With immersion, I’ll figure it out.
Butterfinger in Spanish is still Butterfinger.
October
Thursday the 11th
At work there are 4 of us in the “Car Guys” group. We each subscribe to a car magazine and then pass it around among us. Thank goodness the magazine people don’t have a RIAA like group looking out after them, we’d be in trouble.
Today the latest Motor Trend was sitting on my desk. You couldn’t see the cover because of the card stock overwrap announcing your chance to get two subscriptions for the price of one, your renewal and a gift subscription for someone, just in time for the holidays.
The tear out card has the current subscribers name already on it, it served as the mailing label, so all you have to do is fill out the blanks for your friend and send it back, just check the box marked bill me later. To the left of the address area is the text reading, “Yes, I accept! Extend my subscription for 1 year (12 issues) at the preferred subscriber rate of only $20 and enter my 1-year gift subscription to the person listed above – that’s two subscriptions for the price of one!”
Sounds great, until you realized that you can subscribe to Motor Trend for $10 a year from a bunch of places, including the Motor Trend site itself…
I wonder what their non-preferred rate is?
November
Tuesday the 13th
We are getting a front office update, no new cubical panels or furniture, just some new carpet, wallpaper and the trim painted a different color. They did Human Resources first and now they are continuing through the plant from right to left.
I guess I should go pay attention to how HR looks to see what is in store for me, but it has got to be fairly blah, because I have been in there several times since their update and cannot bring to mind what it looks like.
I know no one else in the office is sure what the new wallpaper looks like! The room next door is first to get the rework, last night the contractor came in and removed the old two-tone gray wallpaper. All that was up this morning was the white liner paper covering the still older paneling. For giggles I printed out two colors of ‘wallpaper samples’ and tacked them to wall next to the door into my area. I snagged the background from the Boston Red Sox home page on MLB.com. One was the stock background, dark blue with white-ish socks and in the other I colored the socks red.
The idea came from my fellow front office FRS fan (thanks Gerry) and got the expected reaction from my MFY loving manager. The best part was the reactions from all the other people that pass that way each day. Quite a bit of them are obviously not baseball fans because hardly anyone noticed the real connection. I bet about half of them were actual arguing the merits of the all blue paper vs. the blue with red in it. Some noticed the socks in the pattern, but couldn’t figure out why they might be there.
The folks in the room that is all tore up, that the “samples” are in, were good sports about it and with as straight a face as they could muster, explained that that really is the choice of paper for the office remodel. Sometime in the afternoon one of the USC fans had made up a small sample with Gamecock logos all over it to add to the mix.
At the end of the day they must have tired of all the people asking about the redo because they published an FAQ and pinned it to the wall as well. It consisted of one question and one answer:
Q. Are y’all remodeling?
A. Yes
December
Wednesday the 26th
We spent a frustrating 2 hours tonight searching several stores for a 32oz insulated water bottle with a big enough opening on top to except ice cubes. They are in every store, on numerous aisles as long as it isn’t Christmas time and Donna had the misfortune of dropping her water bottle and breaking it this morning December 27th.
To ease our suffering we dined on Carnitas at Marias. We were seated at a booth by the window with a lovely view of the laundromat next building over. As I looked through the faux wood blinds, it came to my attention that several of the slats were tilted different from the majority. Reflexively, I nudged the offending slats into line with the rest.
Adrian would have been so proud.
