sometimes a gift can change your life

My brother got me a grid-it, which is super cool. I now have my backpack completely organized. It's a good idea. I don't have to fumble around any more to find all the little shit I can never find in my backpack pockets.

He also gave me this gift (the roll right top of the picture). It's seriously my favorite thing ever. It's a roll of velcro straps. I guess I have a reputation of being an organized neat freak. But if that were really true wouldn't I have known about these straps before? Of course I would have. So I'm not some neurotic person who has to have everything neat and tidy and in an exact location from which it can't be moved. Further, I did NOT just spend the past hour velcro strapping everything in my backpack, my stereo and computer wires, one of my cacti (he was developing a distinct lean), and other stuff. I am not now going through withdrawls because I've run out of things to velcro wrap.  I am NOT now contemplating braving the cold outside to see if there's anything in my car that needs a velcro wrap.

Okay, maybe I do have a problem. But at least I'm not smoking crack or engaging in some other bad habit. If anyone has anything that needs a velcro wrap let me know.

update on my dad

So, here it is 220 am MST (420 am EST) and I'm texting with my dad. Why he's up I don't know (he's on EST).

But he says the pain in his leg has been reduced a lot (80% - we engineers like to quantify things). He has his first chemo today (chemo today on top of radiation on Tuesday - extreme meds - tell me there's a climb harder than that - you're full of shit). I think he will do great.

I'm glad I have tough bad ass parents. It sets the bar.

My dad is going to kick lymphoma back to shit city. Never once since he's been diagnosed with cancer has he been like "uh oh, fuck me". I know he can do it. I just read an article in the New Yorker about placebos. Weirdly (or not) the body produces its own medicine through endorphins. This medicine can be more powerful than actual drugs. I believe this. I ran on a broken leg for 8 years without a significant amount of acknowledged pain. My dad is doing the same.

So fuck pain, cancer, and all that other shit.

We don't go down easy.

United we fly, divided I feel less stressed

I flew out this evening in the hopes of dodging a storm about to hit Rhode Island and the impending snow disaster in Denver.

My flight from TF Green to Dulles was turbulent the whole way. Not just a little turbulent. Like the plane is shaking apart at its seams and we're losing altitude in a troubling way turbulent. Screaming baby for 2 hours. Mom laughing and trying to play games with the screaming imp. Apparently she didn't bring any milk for the strong lunged 3 year old and there was no service on the plane because of the turbulence (seat belt sign was never turned off).

Then I had to make a mad run for my connection at Dulles because the fuck wits at United decided, for reasons unknown, that all the luggage had to clear the wing before we were allowed out of the plane. That took 20 minutes because they only have, apparently, 3 slap dicks unloading planes. Why this happened I can't say. Stewardess told me it was a security caution to "keep passengers from grabbing their luggage on the tarmac" (we landed at a gate where we had stairs instead of that scary suction cup to the plane thing).

The crack head stewardess on my connecting flight to Denver kept saying "welcome to flight (whatever) with service to Dulles". Dude, we are AT Dulles. I bring this up only because I and everyone who flies is flying in extreme discomfort so a stewardess who's worked for an airline for 15 years can make $100k a year plus benefits and we wonder why the airlines are losing money with planes packed. DO NOT EVEN GO THERE WITH ME. I had a friend in Colorado who was a stewardess making that much money (she quit her job because it was "too hard"). And Virginia. And Maryland.

I should be a stewardess.

The pilot warned us the landing in Denver was going to be bad before we even took off. Not a good sign. The luck of the day was that the flight left more or less on time and, when it came time for drinks service and I asked for a glass of wine even though it costs $7 and was a merlot (I'd rather lick adhesive off of an envelope than drink merlot - but believe me, after the last two days I've had, I needed a drink) the Japanese steward, who may have noticed I was reading a Murakami (Wind-Up Bird Chronicles - read it - paperback is 607 pages and I read it in a week on top of my magazines - was getting up at 530 in the morning so I would have an hour to read it before work), took my credit card after giving me a plastic bottle of wine, and said "your name is Franki?" I started to pull out my boarding pass since I had no hope of getting to my backpack which was shoved under the seat in front of me and the Polo cologne stinking fuck nut in front of me had his seat reclined. But the guy said "since your name is Franki this is free". Mazel tov.

After the plane landed (after three approaches where the pilot backed off) I had to make a mad dash 3 rows back to get my other bag. I did that successfully but was unable to return to my row because of the fuckwit family in front of me. The daughter (in her teens) was asking the dad to pull her bag out of the overhead (along with the bag of her 7 year old sister). The dad said "no, you get it out". I was like "dude, the trains run A LOT less frequently in DIA after midnight, so the sooner we get our bags and deplane the more likely we will not have to wait for a long time for a train". He was like "but, they're never happy, no matter what I do". Needless to say I pulled their bags down for them. Moron dad. I feel bad for those kids.

I got to my car, finally, after waiting FOREVER for the train back to the main terminal. It was 12:40am. Poor Jakey was covered in snow. The roads were a shit show. I saw a ton of accidents. I was driving like "it's actually 3 am for me because I'm on east coast time - no one has plowed - tourists are driving like idiots and spinning their cars - I might die". Even sure pawed Jake had some issues on the road. Finally made it home at 330 am (EST, which I'm on, or 130 am MST).

That's when I took out my laptop and turned it on because I have an early morning conference call and want to do the least amount of work possible before the call. BTW, I am supposed to be on vacation tomorrow.

And I realized I left my laptop power supply at my customer site.

Fuck me. Or, not. I have a back up. No single point of failure. And I think the customer will bring me back soon so I'll just grab it then. The customer I was working for was so great. The group was a great way to end my sordid year because they actually like my company. Even the VP came to all of my training sessions and when he was able to do a heat map he was so excited he was like "you have to come back!"

I have to take the little victories.

I should go to sleep. But I'm kind of wired after the drive I just did to get home from the airport. Hm. Only 6 hours before my conference call. Maybe I'll just stay up.

was that bad luck or good?

Because my company is el sucko they keep booking me on these crazy two segment flights even when a direct flight is only a little more expensive. Don't give me that bullshit about "saving $50 for every employee adds up to blah blah blah". The accountants can come live my fucking life with me for a few weeks and see how great their cost saving plans are. So the managers don't get billion dollar bonuses. Boo hoo. I cry for them.

Anyway, I woke up at 3:45 because my phone was buzzing. I normally go back to sleep but this time I thought I should check it. Which is a good thing because the buzz was an email coming in from United saying my flight had been canceled. No other explanation. No "we rebooked you". No useful information.

I panicked because I had to be out here in Rhode Island today for a very important, and short, engagement. I got up and called united. What's up with that fucking circus music they play while you're on hold? It's not pleasant at 4 in the morning.

I finally got a representative who tried to book me on a new flight getting into Rhode Island at 10:45 PM. I was like "NO WAY dude". I have to be at the customer site at 8 am every morning. I'm losing 2 hours as it is. This engagement is in the middle of nowhere. Also, it was forcing me to have a 4 hour layover in Chicago. Sucktacular.

After me bitching and pointing out that I have booked 250,000 miles with united (do the math, considering I didn't fly for the time I was over in the middle east, that's A LOT of trips) in the past 4 years the guy got me on a direct flight to Logan from Denver at 8 am. I had to drive an hour to get to my hotel, and my rental car is going to be obscenely expensive since my return is different from my pickup (to the tune of $100 a day) but ask me if I give a fuck.

There were no crying babies on the flight but the guy next to me (I was in the middle seat) farted the whole 4 hour flight. Not just like occasional farts. It was like lots and lots of farts. I wanted to vomit and had to get up twice and stand in the aisle to get away from the smell. Also, I smoked my fake cigarette even though it's not allowed on planes (stupid, a stewardess said "they cause interference with the communications in the cockpit" and I was like "I'm glad you are a stewardess and not a science teacher").

Then I got my car and got into the tunnels of downtown boston and got lost because my GPS was being chooky (kind of cool actually, since last time I was there the big dig was still going on). I passed faneuil hall and remembered how to get to the highway (weirdly, I haven't been to boston since 1996 but I remember certain aspects of the city). Arrived at my hotel earlier than my original flight would have had me getting here so my bad luck actually ended up being good. But my room, unlike the calgarian hotel I stayed in last week, does not seem to have much in the way of heat. I turned the thermostat up to 75 and went to work out. It's now at 65 even though I was blasting the heat for the hour I was in the gym.

I will survive. I shouldn't complain, actually. Given what my dad is going through now these matters are incredibly trivial.