Scrapping out a liveing

Have I ranted on this before? I'm sure I have. No matter, I'm going to do it again.

Subject: Business Typos

A few days ago, someone in the office at work (meaning someone who makes more money than I do, and supposedly has education and experience befitting her position) typed out a memo for all employees. She left a copy next to the mailboxes. I read it and cringed. We're doing inventory right now, and we cannot move or throw out (scrap) any items until they have been counted. In large, bold letters, her flyer said "NO MOVING, NO SCRAPING!"
Scraping. NOT scrapping. Her demand sounded more like a grade-school teacher's classroom admonition on test day. "Scrappage" and its variants are (unfortunately, from a business standpoint) some of the most commonly-used words at my workplace. The back of my company hat says "Goal: 0% SCRAP." (Hey, it was free!) And yet, nobody else caught the typo until the memo was plastered on every flat surface in all three plants. It is seriously bugging me.

Typos drive me crazy. Not so much on internet forums, blogs, chat, etc. where a more conversational tone is accepted by most and acronyms, abbreviations and "txt spk" are the norm. I don't follow strict writing criteria here and I don't expect anyone else to. I'll end sentences with prepositions, use too many commas and pauses, and write using colloquialisms or current slang. However, even taking liberties such as those, I hate misspelling a word. I hate it more in the following circumstances:

If I see an official release on company letterhead or browse a business website, and there are glaring typos, something in me just clicks and sets me off. Sometimes I cannot read past the error. (I do this with published novels too, as does my mom. A typo just derails the train of mental engagement with the story.) My own company has issued quarterly reports, public notices, and so forth with typos that make me want to demand proof of educational credentials from the higher-ups who wrote said letters. Or at the least, volunteer to proofread important documents for them. I find it very unprofessional to have misspelled words on job applications, company descriptions, mission statements, and employee handbooks, among other things. How does that project a good image? In my opinion, it doesn't. It projects slackness, disinterest, and lower education, none of which I want to see from the managers/owners of a potential employer or investment opportunity.

I went to a website not long ago for a product I was researching. I didn't get past the main page of the website. The product description had no less than three misspelled words and the company info was wrong (commas in the wrong place and some proper words not capitalized). This was supposed to be a million-dollar business. You'd think, with such a slick web design that obviously set the advertising budget back a few dollars, someone would have proofread the content. I can't be the only one out there who immediately loses interest in purchasing anything from a company that can't even spell their own product name the same way on the same page! Ugh.

I just can't get past this, I really can't. I've started carrying a black marker around with me at work and changing all the scraping to scrapping. Also leaving commentary: "We can't scrape?" "Scrape what?" "We all scrape by. Is this no longer allowed?" "Pay me more and I won't have to scrape." etc. etc. ad nauseaum... I'm an ass. :-D

5 Years

*Moment of silence for the victims of 9/11/01 and their families*

Reading in Reading

• Breaking News: Steve Irwin "Crocodile Hunter" was killed by a stingray today while filming an underwater documentary at the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. RIP. (Yahoo News)

Back to our semi-regularly-scheduled post:
Today Hubby and I went to view the PostSecret exhibit at the Reading Public Museum. It was great, although I think I got more out of it than he did. I noticed the majority of the visitors (and there were quite a few, for a Sunday afternoon on a holiday weekend) were younger females. There was a pretty steady line of people reading the postcards on display though. A table was set up nearby, with a can of colored pencils on it and chairs all around. Next to it was a full-size mailbox that seemed to be made out of clear stretch-wrap or tape. (Really neat!) A note said to take a card and write your secret, put it in the box, and the author would collect them at the end of the exhibit's run. Unfortunately there were no blank cards to be found; I didn't have anything to say anyway. Several of the postcards on display already said what I would have written had I thought about it.

Secrets... I'm not sure I have any of my own, just those I keep for others. Fears, concerns, inspirations, dreams... yes, I have all those. I also have a big mouth and vocalize those things quite well. ;-P

This is the only one I photographed. It made me laugh, and can be applied to pretty much everyone that's near and dear to me:

Wiki gone Wacky

Hey Muppet-lovers!

Gael at PCJM just linked to Muppet Wiki, as well as the "Muppets eating other Muppets" section. I thought Trekkers were obsessed... er, obsessive... either way there is a lot of Muppet minutiae on that site. If you can still sing the long version of the theme song word-for-word, occasionally yell out PIGS IN SPAAAAACE for no reason, consider Swedish Pig-Latin a bona-fide language (as Klingon is to the Trekkers) and can't cook without adding a few vocal "bork-bork-borks," and once had wallpaper featuring the entire cast of the Muppet Show in your bedroom... not that I ever did any of those things, of course *ahem* but if you did... check the site out.

Here's your Obsessive/Nostalgic Clip of the Month: Most-Requested Muppet Skit.

Happy Birthday To Me

It's my birthday. But more importantly, it's 7 years to the day since my first date with my hubby. Best. Present. Ever! The gift that keeps on giving...

As for the day, since it's supposed to rain I wanted to stay in bed with a good Book and listen to the raindrops on the tin roof. Then Dad said they were coming over, so I have to actually get up in the A.M., get dressed, and make sure the house is presentable. We didn't go out tonight, both of us worked and we're too tired (and too broke) to make the effort.

So, tonight I played some old tunes, ate a burrito and cleaned off my desk. Whee. I haven't played my Birthday Song yet... "Happy Birthday" by Concrete Blonde... it became a kind of tradition when I lived in California, so I'll have to dig it out later. Otherwise, looks like it's going to be just another day around here. I hope somebody brings cake. Caaaake!

I Wanna Rock!

Our planned full trek through Rickett's Glen tomorrow has been postponed. It's supposed to rain again, and anyway we don't need/want to spend any more than necessary on gasoline right now. It's a ways away. Sure is a pretty place, though. I hope we get to go another time!

Another Work Post

My boss had his interview for the head grower position today. We're all pulling for him, although we really like working for him the way it is now. If he gets the position (and we're fairly sure he will) he'll move up the ladder and we'll be left without a plant manager (or whatever the company is calling that position now. It seems to change every 6 months or so).

That means his job will be open. I've spoken to a few people at work about who would be the best person for our plant, and whether they'll hire an outsider, or if they'll even hire anyone at all knowing that the site will be sold relatively soon. Surprisingly, like everyone assumes my boss is going to get the head position, they also assume a certain person will take his place.

That person is me.

Whoa.

Okay... I guess it makes sense, since I've been his backup/fill-in/weekend manager for a few years. But I usually focused on keeping the wheels turning, solving personnel and planning issues, scheduling, and dealing with the many mini-crises that occur in day-to-day operations. There is a LOT I don't know. For example, I don't have the horticultural background that others do; the chemistry and scientific nitty-gritty like knowing the ideal temperature ranges for each stage of X plant's growth, or the optimum Klux for said plant. This is one area in which I'm more hands-on than book-smart. Horticulture was never a field I'd considered, therefore I didn't pursue further education on the subject. Or any at all, for that matter.

On the other hand, I have several years' experience at this same plant. My boss thinks I could do it. Other people think I could do it. I think I could do it, too. Thing is, I don't believe I want to. These past couple of weeks have been stressful. Without getting into a lot of detail, I'll just say it's been manic. There is *no way* I can continue doing my own job plus take on all the additional responsibilities of managing our plant and crew full-time. I've been doing that lately, with my boss handling the technical stuff, and even with the two of us sharing the workload it's too much. Something will have to give... unfortunately, we're all stretched so tight now that if something did give we'd be in a world of backlash. Plus, the last person who took this position at another plant didn't get a raise. I'm underpaid NOW; I sure as heck ain't doing more for the same pay. "But it's an opportunity!" Yeah, an opportunity for the company to expect even more than they do without compensating me for it. What they expect now has already pushed my limits to the point where I don't want to do it anymore. A challenge is one thing, but taking full advantage of someone and doing so knowing full well that the person has to go along with it or quit is another thing entirely. And quite a few long-time employees have had enough and quit. I may not be the next one, but if they make it any more difficult I'll be on the short-timer list. I'm sucked dry, y'all. I have to ask myself if it's worth it, and if I am offered the position and decline, how that will affect my current status.

The *only* reason I'd consider it, at this point, is knowing we will have new owners within a few months and I may want to grab it while I can. It will look good on my next resume. ;-)

Creamsicle, ew!

I used to love Creamsicles. You know, those orange popsicles with vanilla ice cream inside. After today, I'm not sure I want another one for a good long time.

I had to go in for a couple of CAT scans today. I don't have a cat, and I couldn't catch one of the strays out back (suckers are quiiiick*) so I went empty-handed. One empty hand soon held a cup of orange sludge. I'd heard from other people that the dye solution or whatever the heck it is tasted nasty, so I was surprised to find that it looked and tasted just like a giant melted Creamsicle. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before (had to fast for X hours) so it was kinda nice getting to suck down something thick and halfway decent. Like those orange cream milkshakes that Arby's has now.

Anyway, the nice part was short-lived, since as soon as I finished the sludge I was given a second large cup of it. That one was a bit harder to get down. It coated my mouth and I wasn't supposed to have water or anything to cut the film (I always like having a glass of water after ice cream). But I finished it and it still wasn't awful, just a bit heavy. Went back to the prep room and lo and behold, a third cup of sludge awaited me. I chugged it to get it out of the way. Then I got to get an IV hooked up. I was a bit ticked now... I hadn't been told I was getting an IV; I'd thought it was one of those little dye packs they stick in the back of your hand. Nope. The sludge experience was forgotten and I managed to not pass out through the IV process, though there was a tense moment when I had to remind myself out loud to breathe. Thank the Lord I'm not diabetic or anything else that requires daily injections. I'd be a basket case.

After that it was easy. I never have been one of those people who freak out for MRIs; in fact I usually relax to the point of dozing off in the tunnel. The hammer noises are almost hypnotic to me. (I'm one who has fallen asleep in Row 8 at a NASCAR race, without earplugs, so MRI noise is a breeze.) This CAT machine, though, was an open tube and the scans went so quickly I barely had time to snooze. The tech did ask me once if I was asleep. I said yes. ;-P

So... an hour of drinking melted orange cream, five minutes of convincing myself not to go yell at my doctor for not warning me about the IV, and twenty minutes of kicking back in a machine, and I was done. Well, almost. I get the results from one scan at the end of the month and the others whenever my doc looks at them and calls me. I wanna see them too. That's probably the only really cool thing about having almost one's entire body scanned at one point or another. I get to see what I look like on the inside! One of these days I'm going to request copies of everything and make a collage by piecing all the parts together. "Self-Portrait" indeed!

*nod to Foxworthy

The Truth Comes Out

This morning started out like any other. I got up and went to work, with a growers' meeting on my agenda followed by working in the poinsettias and doing the usual routine stuff. I know I mentioned our head grower left us; my supervisor has shouldered the majority of his responsibilities, so I've been picking up the daily ops at our plant until our new grower is hired/announced.
Anyway, I got to work this morning to find a note pinned to the office door. It said, in one gal's handwriting, for my boss to be at the 8:30 meeting. In another gal's writing below it was "He won't be in today. E, please meet at Plant 1 breakroom 8:30." I thought we'd just moved the growers' meeting over there for some reason, so off I went.
All the employees were there, along with the site manager and company counselor. We were informed that the northeast division of our company was on the market and they hoped to have a buyer by the end of the year. We'd been hearing rumors, but apparently no one could confirm it until after the shareholders meeting. Our CEO made the official announcement last night after that meeting.

So. We're for sale again. Last time, it was a privately-owned business bought by a large company and merged with other sites to form the regional division. That's when we "went public" and the shareholders came into play. Now, it's one of the largest horticulture companies trying to unload four sites at once. We were told if they couldn't sell it as a package deal, each site would be sold individually. It's all about the bottom line.

Am I worried? On the contrary; I'm optimistic and a bit excited. I think it's about time we get some new blood in there, someone who can revamp the business and sales models and expand our customer base. Maybe fix our benefits so we aren't paying out the nose for them, or have more than just an HMO to choose from. Someone willing to invest not just in materials and equipment, but in the employees as well. Morale is the lowest I've seen in 7 years. We need change, we need incentive, we need a reason to be happy about going to work again. We DON'T want to see the results of our butt-busting hard work going into dumpsters by the truckload. There are some darn good employees (myself included, if I may be so bold) who would be more than willing to continue on provided we don't feel like we're building houses of cards in the eye of a hurricane. And that's what it's been like... just one thing after another, most of it out of our realm of influence. It's so frustrating seeing it happen and not being able to do a thing about it! Maybe the new owners will give us more of a voice... I doubt it, but it could happen. At any rate, I hope they realize the value of our input and (what's left of) our dedication and keep our tight crews together.

If not, I get a six-month paid vacation. Wee!

What's Around the Corner?

Of Hoff and Perry

I got laughed at last night. Twice. Why? I was chatting on IM and brought up the Random Question of the Day. In this case, it was:
"Ever look at a celebrity you crushed on way back when and wonder what the heck you were thinking?"
I got laughed at because I said I used to like David Hasselhoff.

Shut UP.

I mean it.

I tried to explain it was all about the car... well, who wouldn't like a guy, stupid hair or not, with a cool car like K.I.T.T.? And Devon had a nice accent. Yet I got laughed at for admitting I once liked the Hoff. I see him now and all I think is- in a word- EW. He doesn't even rate a few extra W's on the end of that EW either. I understand he's quite popular over the pond. I have no idea why; I've seen the videos and EW- followed by stunned disbelief that anyone can deliberately be so cheesy- is my usual reaction.

Another former crush of mine usually meets with agreement. Again, I have no idea why, as he is not what one would consider a stereotypically attractive person. In fact at the height of his popularity he was downright homely. Okay, maybe in the late 70's he was cute in a long-haired femme kind of way (much like Cher) but I came in at the tail end of that party.

I'm talking about Steve Perry, (former) lead singer for Journey. What was it that made him so popular with women? It couldn't have been *just* the voice, though that's what hooked me and kept me on the line for 25 years. And counting.

We liked him through the flamboyant effeminate hippie stage...
The slightly-chubby mullet-and-sideburns stage... (Click here for the ultimate in 80's cheese)...
The Big Hair and Faded Jeans With A Tailcoat era... (Hey, was that in Fresno?)

And the introspective older hippie (AKA the Melancholy) phase...
Then he chopped the hair off again for Gay Part II... We didn't care.
He gained weight... We didn't care.
There were more phases in between, like the transitional one from 70's to 80's and the One With The Hat from the Street Talk time. Through all his looks, a lot of women of my era, when hearing the name "Steve Perry," will say "Ooooh, he was so CUTE!" Some of them say that about him now. Ladies, once a man is in his 50's, calling him cute just seems weird.

I just don't know what the attraction was. Maybe the Portuguese looks? I know I crushed on a few guys just because they resembled him. (One of them, I believe, was a relative of his, though the guy never would tell me.) As far as I know, none of them could sing. Thus my interest was short-lived.

It had to be the combination of soulful vocals, unique persona and perhaps those cupids-bow lips, added to his dynamic stage presence and oh yeah, those tuxedo tails. With jeans and sneakers, no less. Whatever it was, mix it all up with a little bit of undefinable magnetism, a dab of Cheez Whiz and cream rinse by the gallon and there you go. Few did it like Steve Perry did, and that kind of unexplainable phenomenon may never be deciphered.

Gotta go... there's some Strange Medicine on the player, begging me to close my eyes and get lost in the music again. And a note to Steve: I don't care if you gain a hundred pounds, shave your head and wear polka-dotted pajamas... just SING, man! Sing already! I promise we'll fall in love with you all over again. History proves this to be true.

And stop laughing at me. For all I know, Steve Perry has a cool car too.

Before I go, here's one of my favorite Journey songs.

*Images cribbed from Google... if one is yours, drop me a line and I'll credit you for it.

Lucky Seven... I Think

This week marks 7 years at my current job. I was only hired for two weeks, as a temp to help out with the baby poinsettias. On my first day, I met my future husband... here it is, seven years later, and today I did the exact same thing I was doing when I first started. I'm with the same man. I even have the same car! (Still have the first ball cap I wore there, hanging in the closet... it has "bite me" written on the back in black Sharpie.)

Once I decided to move here, I said I would stay for a few months to see if I liked it. My whole life was changing and I wasn't about to commit to a job I'd gotten just to make some quick cash. A few months later, I said I'd give it a year. Then I said if my friend and mentor, the woman who hired me, ever quit I'd be out the door behind her since it wouldn't be the same. Instead, I took over her job when she did leave. I learned that I was pretty good at it, although I still couldn't see myself making it a long-term position. At the time, every employee who reached a milestone (5,10, 15 years, etc) was awarded their choice of company-logo items. I always liked the stereotype of a business giving an employee a watch and there was one I liked in the awards book, so I started saying "I'm stayin' till I get my watch." Six months prior to my five-year anniversary, they canceled the awards program. No watch, but I did have health and vision insurance for myself and my husband, so I kept on.

At our "Rewards and Recognition" employee meeting today, when my name was called by the site manager to acknowledge my anniversary, I asked "Am I up for parole yet?" She rolled her eyes while the other manager laughed. I must say, though, it was nice to hear how many people clapped when my name was called. The managers didn't have to encourage anyone to do it. That's a pretty good feeling. It's their anniversary too... they've put up with me for quite a while! (My sarcasm and occasional indignation don't always go over well.)

So... I've served seven years of an open-ended sentence. I get time off for good behavior in December. I still want that watch, though. Maybe in another three years...?

Christmas in July!

End of the season... seems a long way off!

Some people think that it's fun to celebrate Christmas in July. Other people think those people are nuts. I am from the latter camp.

Ironically (or not- 'tis the season, after all) we just got our first set of poinsettias at work this week. They've actually been on-site for a while, but my section gets them after the plugs are potted. Hence, Christmas in July. That's one reason I think the people who want to acknowledge the unholiday are nuts. Freaking poinsettias! Ugh.

I spent the better part of the morning babysitting a trio who were, hands down, the least motivated (read: lazy) employees I've ever seen there. On top of that, they took half-hour breaks, went to the bathroom as a group, and did not even attempt to do even the simplest tasks correctly despite having them personally demonstrated (repeatedly) and with people standing next to them watching! They just laughed and continued to goof off. As a result, several areas had to be moved and re-spaced by crew leaders and myself, and the site manager made an appearance to check out the situation. I understand that the unwiseguys will not have jobs tomorrow. Ouch! (By the way, I had nothing to do with that. Their crew is under different leadership. I was attempting, unsuccessfully, to train them since their own crew leader refused to even speak to them anymore. That should have been my first clue.) Merry Christmas, guys.

The rest of the day was spent in the by-now-familiar hectic frenzy known as Day One. Set down, hand-feed, rinse, repeat. Drag hoses. Set mist clocks. Watch mist cycle. Get everyone wet when mist goes off without warning. Adjust leaves, adjust pots, adjust valves, adjust mist, adjust hoses... by the time we're done, everything is well-adjusted except us. We're frazzled.

I will say, though, that the closest thing I personally have to a "maternal instinct" kicks in when the new little points arrive. They are my babies; I worry about them. I did not like leaving today, not being there to watch over them and make sure they were all getting their mist on time and getting fed and so on. As much as I hate the interminable green growing stage of poinsettias, I love the beginning. I love movingmovingmoving, setting everything up, all the details that ensure a healthy start. Once they're esablished I'll go into Hate Mode, which will increase a hundredfold by the time December rolls around and I've decided which lucky plant gets to be stomped at the end of the season. Poinsettia stomping should be sanctioned by our company, it really should. There would be a lot fewer agitated employees going spastic after looking at the %$&# things for 6 months straight. I know it always makes me feel better!

Down on Main Street

I was just reading another blog, and one line caught my attention. The writer said "I've never lived on Main Street before."

I wonder what the odds are that any of us will, at any point in our lives, reside on Main Street. Almost every town and city, borough and hamlet has a Main Street. Here in Pennsylvania, the odds are about the same as living on Railroad Street, since every town* seems to have one of those as well. We've been living on Main Street for over six years, but I never really thought about it before. It is kinda cool. Most Main Streets are downtown (or what passes for it in our case) right in the heart of the population. Our "city limits" total one square mile. Main Street becomes Route Such-and-Such on either end of the mile, so there isn't a whole lot of street to our main.

If there is an American small-town common denominator, this is it. Main is what it says; no originality there. But in most cases, that will be the hub of the community. Even though our borough is tiny it's still true. I can walk to wherever I need; the little local grocery, post office, gas station, sub shop, firehall, bank, and church. Anyone who drives through has to cross our road or go along it. Our porch looks over the street; people honk and wave at us as they go by, parades turn the corner in front of the firehall next door, high-school sports teams ride up and down after a victory cheering and blasting sirens, Amish buggies drive by en route to one farm or another. Always something happening here on Main Street in spite of this being a wee little farm town without any fast-food places, chain stores, bars, or an actual traffic light. (Ours is just a flashing light at the four-way stop.) I like it here. It has its drawbacks and I'd hate living on Main in a more urban area but this... this is okay. We won't stay here forever but for now I like being part of American nostalgia and tradition.

*Yes, I know there is only one designated "town" in PA. But it's easier to say town than to figure out which is a hamlet, burg, borough, township, etc. For the record, ours is a borough.


Main street isn't main street anymore
Lights don't shine as brightly as they shone before
Tell the truth, lights don't shine at all
In our town
Sun comes up each morning
Just like it's always done
Get up, go to work, start the day,
Open up for business that's never gonna come
As the world rolls by a million miles away
Main street isn't main street anymore
No one seems to need us like they did before
It's hard to find a reason left to stay
But it's our town
Love it anyway
Come what may, it's our town.
~James Taylor, "Our Town"

Bad Week, Good Week

Bad:

• It's been miserably hot.
  
• I've been working in the fields since Tuesday. Add "miserably hot" to "standing on black plastic mats in the sun all day." Yuck.
  
• I got sunburned too, in spite of using sunblock. It isn't very effective when you're in among sprinklers. (FYI, the water is warm too. Double yuck.)
• Our head grower, the guy who handles all the Big Important Stuff, just took another job and will be leaving in a couple of weeks. Nobody knows who will replace him.
  
• The Bronco is injured. There is a 2-foot-long gouge in the right-rear fender, not just to the paint but the metal is even pushed in along the gouge. The fender trim is bent too.
  
• Stepped on a tomato hornworm. ICK ICK ICK ICK
  

Good:

• My boss is back, yay! Had enough stress the last two weeks; he can have it back now. I don't want it!
• My eagles are back! That's the best part of being in the fields, seeing the critters, and especially the golden eagles. They're nesting again this year! Got a great show today when one of them was doing lazy circles over the fields. Usually I hear them but don't see them; today was exceptional.
• Got a private message from a semi-famous singer. Coolness...
  
• Also got several songs I'd never heard before from a particular demo tape and spent a while rockin' out.
• Hubby and I cooked dinner together tonight. We should do that more often, we always have fun!
• Supposed to drop down into the 80s for a cold snap. ;-P At this point I'll take it.

Things I was really wishing for this past week:

• My own swimming pool
• A trip to Alaska
  
• Ice
• Better air conditioning at home
• ANY cool air at work
  
• Going to the movies just cause I always freeze in there

See a theme here?

Ah well, in the grand scheme of things it's all trivial. "And this, too, shall pass..."

Where's the ice?

No chains, same Mr. T!

Just ran across this blog post and simply had to share it! If you're a child of the 80's you'll appreciate this.

If you could ask Mr. T a question, would you get the best response EVER?

I pity the fool!


;-)

Sun-derful Days!

It's hot out there. I don't mean typical summertime heat, but muggy sticky swim-through-the-air humid and temps in the 90s to boot. "Welcome to the Jungle" is (once again) my theme song for working in a greenhouse. I must be crazy! Heat is supposed to continue most of this week... bleah.

However, I didn't work today. Yay! Hubby and I went in search of sweet corn, since the fella we usually buy it from has been sold out and packed up rather early all week. We headed over to the flea and farmer's market in Lewisburg. Lo and behold, ONE vendor still had butter & sugar sweet corn! We bought two dozen ears. Our plan is to spend tomorrow evening (once it cools down) washing our patio furniture and hosing off the porch, then we're going to have BBQ sandwiches and corn outside. We also bought sweet cherries and plums.

While in Lewisburg we stopped for lunch and ran into my aunt and uncle, whom we haven't seen since Christmas. After lunch hubby and I went to their house for iced tea and a nice chat. We took over some perennials and I got the landscape tour. Aunt has so many plants and flowers in her yard! I want to see it next spring when all her tulips come up. She also gave me some photos, one of hubby and I from Christmas and an old one of my grandparents that I'd never seen. It was nice to visit with them again!

A while later, as we were making our usual round of the car dealerships, we stopped at one of the many "dairy bars" in the area. I had a real vanilla malt, something I love and rarely find anymore. (Side note: Sonic's malts are horrible. Once you've had a real one you'll know what I mean.) Then we cruised over to drop in on some friends, gave them some corn and made tentative plans to get together next weekend.

Quote of the week: Hubby and I were talking about the folks that live near the golf course. I mentioned that we should have bought a house that was for sale there before all the commercial development came in and drove the prices up, and he said no, because of all the wayward golf balls. He told me he's delivered to people there with dents in their siding and garages, a guy who boarded up one of his windows because he was tired of replacing it, and a woman who went outside to pick up all the golf balls in her yard before he arrived so he wouldn't slip on any while delivering her treadmill. Hubby summarized-deadpan- "The problem is, golfers... are bad golfers."

Maybe you had to be there, but it was so true (for the most part) that I'm still laughing about it. I just think of the time when I was driving down the highway by the course and saw a golf ball go by. I think it was speeding. ;-)

R.I.P

Earnest W. Reece 1913-2006

My husband's grandfather passed away on Saturday at age 93. Pop-Pop was quite a character who always had a story to tell! B last saw him on Pop's birthday last month; they had cake and talked and Pop was his feisty self. He was much loved by his family and I'm sure he'll find an audience waiting in Heaven!

Aren't you lucky!

After reading several message boards and catching up on everything Journey post-Steve Perry, I wrote out a nice long diatribe on the subject. I accidentally clicked "save draft" instead of "post" and I don't feel like re-reading it right now, so you all get this instead:

* Winning at carnival bingo is nice. Spending most of the winnings to continue playing bingo is kind of silly. Doesn't matter though, I like playing bingo (I call it "practicing for old age") and I like supporting the local fire company. Aside: the firemen left their posts in the middle of the carnival to go on a call. Nobody complained. We love our volunteers!
* How is it possible to have "too much mud" for a 4x4 truck jamboree?
* Learning experience: flamethrower + weeds = bad smell. And a lot of smoke.
* Learning experience, part II: flamethrower ignition device + wood office wall = oops. See above appreciation for firemen.
* CJ's Law of Greenhouses I: everything that can go wrong, will go wrong... the day the boss goes on vacation.
* CJ's Law of Greenhouses II: your main water source will be shut off indefinitely on the worst possible day. See above.
* Every good business or product name is already taken, by a business or product that has nothing to do with your own.
* XM station 49 (Big Tracks) is my current favorite. Also have the song "Brick House" stuck in my head right now.

We're off to Chryslers at Carlisle! Hope the campground isn't flooded. "No open flame" rule sucks, but in light of previous events, probably a good thing. ;-P

No-Name Flood

That's right... unlike Agnes in 1972, and Ivan a couple years ago, the PA Flood of 2006 doesn't have a name. Going by river levels, it's the third-worst on record. But it wasn't caused by any named storm, therefore has no title to attach to it.

I think I'm going to call it the Reality Check Flood of 06. In my eyes, that's exactly what it was. Anyone who thinks they're inconvenienced because the closest store is out of your favorite brand of soda, try dealing with having no WATER for several days. Parts of Bloomsburg had the water shut off due to a main break during the flood; people have had to get their drinking water from container trucks. There's a food distribution tent set up just off Main Street. The street is lined with industrial-sized dumpsters now full of belongings, furniture, and debris people are hauling out of their soggy homes. There are more piles of stuff in yards. Cars are sitting with their doors open as owners hope their vehicles will dry out and be salvageable. Windows are open, fans are on, cleanup has begun. It's incredibly sad and shocking.

In all, it's mostly material objects that can be replaced or done without. But it's also homes ruined, lives disrupted, more than a minor inconvenience when people either can't get to work or have to call off or even work around their job hours so they can rip out the drywall and cart waterlogged items outside and take photos for insurance claims and make sure their kids aren't playing in contaminated runoff and bleach everything to stave off mold and feed their families from outdoor grills or Salvation Army donations and try to somehow keep on keeping on.

Granted, our flood was nowhere near the magnitude of Katrina. I hope there never is another on that scale. But it's devastating all the same, especially when it hits home and involves people I know. Therefore, Reality Check '06. The wake-up call to tell us that disaster can happen to anyone, anywhere, even in our own backyards; a lesson for those who weren't around for the other big floods and a reminder to those who were.

And to cap it all, we're still getting rain off and on.

Hey God, we're awake now. Can you fix that leak in the sky, please? Thanks!