Lessons Learned

Saturday I helped my friend De with her move. Because I was expecting a day of heavy lifting, I went in drab. I wore a tee shirt, a pair of baggy shorts and sneakers, without a wig, makeup, or forms. My only concessions to femininity were a pair of Mom's gold peridot studs and my girly Skechers. This was the first time I'd been out around anyone from NLTO out of my chosen gender. De says she didn't recognize me at first, but I think she was kidding. Everyone else who showed up recognized me. Sugar, De's canine visitor remembered me. Dogs are cool that way.

Anyway, Saturday went from cool and cloudy to rainy, to hot and muggy, to clear and breezy. It took us a while, but we managed to clear the apartment of most of the big furniture and several boxes of stuff. Next weekend, we get the rest of it, and hopefully by then, De will have a firmer notion of where shes going to. I've been in that Limbo of not knowing where I'm moving to, and it's not a fun place.

Sometime in the middle of things, I came to the realization that these friends of mine are some of the best I've ever had. Plus, I definitely know who to call when it's time for us to move.

I'm sure I've mentioned somewhere in this mess that I fancy myself a scale modeler. I used to love building little airplanes and tanks and other machines that sometimes caught my fancy. I did it all through late chidlhood and into my early twenties. Then I got married, and all my hobbies and other interests fled before the terrible wrath of D. In the almost six years that she's been gone, I've flirted with getting back into the hobby. I've collected scores of models, but I've only built a few, and I haven't completed any projects in three years or so. I love to chat about it, and contribute ideas to others projects, but I'm beginning to think that I've lost the mojo. I just completed a kit swap with a fellow in the UK. He sent me an airplane kit (a little one) wrapped in a bubble mailer, about the size of a magazine. Postage from that side of the pond was a little over two pounds; about five bucks. My trade kit went out in a box about the size of an Xbox, and the postage was a little over twenty-one dollars. Where's the smiley for gaping with your eyes wide? That was easily twice of what I was hoping to pay. I didn't worry about it, because I knew Nate was going out to donate plasma later, and he'd be getting some back. Alas, his protein is low, and they won't let him donate for ten more days. I don't get paid again till this time next week.

I won't be doing that again any time soon. Anyone know where a girl can make some fast cash? Besides the street corner, folks.

Had an Accident

I had a little accident this morning. Last night was, as I think I mentioned before, the last of eight worked in a row. Due to a combination of circumstances, I was not relieved at work until 1030 in the morning. Sometime over the course of my shift, I came down with gastroenteritis, one of those 24 to 48-hour stomach bugs. Three different times from 0400 to 0900, I spent time in the restroom making donations to the porcelain god. I went one more time before I left the job. I was feeling tired and drained, but I was okay to drive. Or so I thought.

It was very warm when I left the hotel this morning. So warm that I should have let the truck air out before taking off. Alas, I had been at the hotel for nearly twelve hours, and I was sick, and I just wanted to go home. I rolled the window down, blasted the fan, and cranked the radio. In an ironic turn of events, one of the songs that played on the way home was Lady Gaga's "Just Dance", with that line "I can't see straight anymore". I was a mere mile from home, exiting the Western Freeway onto London Boulevard, when I blacked out and hit a guardrail.

There's nothing like a sudden burst of adrenaline to startle one into wakefulness. I think I OD'd on adrenaline. I couldn't stop trembling. I managed to drive home, where I discovered that I smashed the left front parking light and the left rear turn signal/brake light.

I was uninjured, but the adrenaline on top of my stomach bug just made me queasy. My brother and a mechanic friend of ours are going to pick through a junkyard tomorrow to see if they can locate replacement parts. Unfortunately, this puts paid to my airshow trip, because they won't let you onto any military base in a vehicle with that sort of damage. My gastro thing seems to have run its course, but I'm not sure that wandering around the ramp at an Air Force base in the hot sun all day is such a good idea anyway. If I'm feeling up to it, I might wander down to the riverfront and play tourist for a bit, taking pictures of statuary and boats and whatnot.