stranger in a strange land

Dinner last night was an interesting experience. Everyone at the table was from UK or Ireland, except for me and the husband of one of Ireland's friends, Evan. Evan asked me where I was from and I said "I'm from the US. I didn't vote for Bush." Evan said "Bush didn't run in the last election", missing my point.

Apparently he took offense to what I said, because he ignored me until the topic of running came up. He met his wife running with the harriers in Abu Dhabi. I asked if they had a web site or something so I could join and have a group to run with. He made some comment about "husband shopping" (he met his wife in the harriers) and then said he thought the harriers might be too competitive for me. And because everyone kept teasing him about his age I asked him how old he was. He said "that is the RUDEST question anyone has ever asked me". He wasn't joking, though I find his statement hard to believe because he's retired navy.

I tried to follow the other conversations going on around the table but was lost in idiomatic expressions and the inability to understand some of the accents. There was a conversation going on that seemed really interesting until I found out it was about a tv show about housewives. Every time someone in Ireland's group goes home they bring back the latest DVDs of TV shows that people like to watch here but that aren't on the TV. They asked if I had any DVDs. I thought about mentioning my 12 disk series on chaos or maybe my lecture series done by Neil deGrasse Tyson on the universe, but then decided to just say no.

Everyone was talking about this palace which is a 7 star hotel. Ireland and her brother and his wife went there Monday night for iftar (breaking of the ramadan fast, usually happens after sun down, and involves a tent with a ton of food - people sit around at tables in the tent eating and smoking sheesha). Ireland said she wanted to get married there. The whole dream wedding conversation went on for forever. I started thinking about what it would be like to be married to Neil. I could just see us sitting at a candle lit table, and him saying "Travel to the closest star would be an amazing journey. But if anything went wrong, you would die." Or "Black holes are fascinating things to study. But if you get to close to them, you will die." I think he's one of my favorite people and not just because he could get me into the Hayden planetarium for free (for more NdGT quotes: http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/12855.Neil_deGrasse_Tyson).

I rejoined the conversation when Ireland's brother mentioned someone was attacked by a great white in Australia. I started explaining some shark stuff to him but Evan interrupted me and said "Stop talking about sharks. They're too depressing."

This morning Ireland was in a bit of a mood because she stayed out late last night. And we had the worst taxi driver ever. I got to the base and a parade of French guys kept coming by my desk while I was trying to work making loud comments. Seriously, what is wrong with the French? Though, the nationality with a bad rap here is the brits. They get arrested more than any other nationality by a factor of 3, mostly for drugs, public drunkenness, and sex related offenses. Last year a british couple was caught having sex on the beach and they were thrown out of the country. One wonders what they were thinking considering you can get arrested for holding hands in public here. No, I'm not making that up.

The day ended with me finding out I'm getting thrown to the wolves tomorrow at the base. Some meeting with some commanders for which I don't even have a presentation to present. Then I'm meeting with some guys from Pakistan next week. I'm not looking forward to traveling there. The flight to and from Islamabad leaves at 3 in the morning and you have to be there 3 hours in advance. Then you get driven everywhere. You are only allowed to go to your hotel or the customer site. And Dr. T warned me the power goes out a lot, and he was almost injured there his last trip when he was running on the treadmill and it came to an unexpected stop when the power shut off.

The good news is, there is a lot of work to do. That, of course, is also the bad news.

the tender trap

from a comment about an article that cited 3 warning signs that a guy is not a good guy to have a long term relationship with:

"I dont (sic) think that relationships can last unless you have both parties so wrapped up in one anothers (sic) lives that extricating themselves would be like ripping off a limb. Those relationships survive. The ones with not much invested as far as family friends and effort seem doomed to fail. I still feel that unless a man is open to falling totally in love with you right from the start your (sic) wasting your time trying to convince him. Hearts (sic) open or heart is closed. Cant (sic) make something out of nothing."

from the article "Is Sex Interesting?" by Wallace Shawn (Aug 2009, Harper's Magazine):

"Perhaps it is the power of sex that has taught us to love the meaningless and thereby turn it
into the meaningful. Amazingly, the love of what is arbitrary (which one could alternatively
describe as the love of reality) is something we human beings are capable of feeling, and perhaps
even what we call the love of the beautiful is simply a particular way of exercising this remarkable ability...Sex has always been known to be such a powerful force that fragile humanity can’t help but be terribly nervous in front of it, so powerful barriers have been devised to control it—taboos of all varieties, first of all, and then all the emotions subsumed under the concepts of jealousy and possessiveness, possessiveness being a sort of anticipatory form of jealousy. (A recent survey of married people in the United States found that when asked the question “What is very important for a successful marriage?” the quality mentioned most frequently—by 93 percent—was “faithfulness,” while “happy sexual relationship” came in
with only 70 percent. In other words, to 23 percent of the respondents, it seemed more important that they and their partner should not have sex with others than that they themselves should enjoy sex.)"

from "the once and future king", T.H. White:

"It is difficult to explain about Guenever, unless it is possible to love two people at the same time. Probably it is not possible to love two people in the same way, but there are different kinds of love...It had been a successful union, as "made" marriages generally are, and before Lancelot came on the scene the young girl had adored her famous husband...she had felt respect for him, with gratitude, kindness, love, and a sense of protection. She had felt more than this - you might say she had felt everything except the passion of romance."

"A woman can forget a lot of love in two years-or at any rate she can pack it away, and grow accustomed to it, and hardly remember it more than a businessman might remember an occasion when, by ill luck, he had failed to make an investment which would have made him a millionaire."

from an article about Neil deGrasse Tyson's book "the pluto files":

"...Disney's dog Pluto was sketched the same year the cosmic object was discovered. And Pluto was discovered by an American. So here you have a recipe for Americans falling in love with a planet that really is just a tiny ice ball...

So that was the famous Planet X. And eventually, Clyde Tombaugh in Arizona discovered a planet, which got named Pluto. Not by an American, though, because an American would never have named it after a highly advertised, highly marketed laxative of the same name that was popular then."

new kid on the block

In the taxi today, riding home with Ireland from the base in the worst traffic ever, I found out why all these weird people were stopping by my desk today. I guess word had gotten around the base that there was a new woman working there.

It's funny that when I first got here I thought I would find a bunch of people like me, and that I would have ample resources to climb and dive with. But it turns out most of the people I've met that are ex pats are out of shape married men who probably took their assignment to get away from the wife and kids.

The french guys are the most obnoxious. One guy came by my desk today and said "bon jour". I had no idea who he was so I said "good morning". He then counseled me in French to greet him in French. I told him to (insert explicative here) himself in Greek. For the rest of the day he would stop by my desk and say something in French. I answered him in Spanish, Arabic, or Greek depending on what I could remember. He finally got the message and decided to leave me alone after calling me a bad name in French (A speaks it and translated after the guy left).

Then, when A and I arrived at Ireland's building (she works on a different part of the base) to pick her up at the end of the day today, two other french guys were waiting with her. As she opened the door to the car (it's a 2 door BMW and I was sitting in the back) both guys came over to try to shake my hand or something. Then one, named Bruno (how could I make that up) actually tried to climb into the back seat of the car with me. Scary. Ireland had to push him out of the way and then A peeled out of the parking lot, though that was more to show off than because he was worried about me getting molested by a frog.

In the 15 minute drive across the 6 lanes of traffic we were laughing about most of the contractor guys we have to work with. Then we were talking about how even the muslim guys can be overly friendly, and during ramadan they use the excuse of trying to convert women to the muslim religion to hit on them. It's one of the tenets of their religion to convert people. Ireland said she would never want to convert to a religion where she would have to be one of four wives, and that she would rather have four husbands. I told her that sounded like way too much work.

On the drive back to Abu Dhabi, ramadan traffic was compounded by a bunch of construction. It's amazing how much building is going on in this city. They're building tunnels and bridges to islands that they had previously built. Then, on the islands, they're building buildings so people have a reason to go to the islands. It's all rather strange. In Abu Dhabi they're ripping down existing short (3 story) buildings and replacing them with tall skyscrapers with mirrored windows. I asked Ireland why they were ripping down what I thought was a cute little building and she said "because it isn't shiny enough".

Tonight I'm meeting Ireland, her brother, her brother's wife, her best friend and her spouse, and two americans she knows for dinner at a mexican restaurant. I finally discovered why there are no restaurants on the street. A place has to be located in a hotel to serve alcohol and most restaurants, other than lunch places and bakeries, could not survive not being able to sell alcohol. So they either open in a mall, or open in a hotel and serve alcohol.

Such is life on this side of the world...

flip flops vs. combat boots

Last week I got to meet some of the contractors I'll be working with when I did a two day training class for them. It was interesting to watch the expression on their faces when they walked in to find me as their instructor. Most of the guys took it in stride. One guy, though, was pretty militant about his views of women, and refused any help from me when he was trying to complete the exercises. Then the little bastard gave me a "good" rating on the evaluation, while rating everything else about the class "excellent".

The very important person to win over in the class liked me so the rating doesn't matter. The VIP is an ex fighter pilot, and we had some interesting discussions about the F-16 (my dad was the lead designer on the F-100 engine, so I immediately had street cred with the VIP). While at first I was worried to do my usual routine teaching class, after a few hours when they were responding to my jokes I decided to just pretend I was in the US.

I had been warned that people would fall asleep in my class and would want to leave early because of ramadan, but actually it was hard to get rid of them at the end of the day. And at one point everyone was laughing and yelling so loud the program manager came in to see what was going on (we were having a drawing race, and at the end I realized I had written all over the white board with a permanent marker - enter the tea boy to clean it with windex and a billion kleenex while the VIP gave a demonstration of "dry erase markers" and "permanent markers" in engli-arabic - I am probably glad I couldn't understand the arabic parts).

Today I went to the base to meet my customer. The base is in the middle of nowhere and is surrounded by road construction so it's pretty difficult to get to. I had to take a taxi to the supermarket across the street, where A was waiting for me. Then we drove out of the parking lot, made a u-turn, and entered the base. What's so crazy is that I could have walked across the street (it's only 6 lanes) but there are barriers up everywhere to keep people from doing that. So instead of a 5 minute walk we have to drive 10 minutes to get on base. And then, after all the drama of getting my pass so I could enter the gate, the guard didn't even ask for it. He just waved at me.

Most of the people I met today were very nice. My favorite is a captain, female. She looks like the emirati version of Angelina Jolie and her uniform is really cool. She wears a black head scarf, then has this very masculine looking square jacket with a bunch of military stuff stuck all over it, and then she has a long skirt that goes to the floor, and poking out from the hem are her black combat boots. She even has her own office.

Most of the day was spent with A trying to figure out our work schedule for the next few months. There's a lot to do. I found it funny that, at the end of the day, when I gave A a list of what I was going to work on for the rest of the week, he said "it's really weird to me that you are doing work". I sometimes wonder if I'm not really a consultant.

And, I've decided, unless something horrible happens, I'm going to Banff in November. Work is fun, but I really need to get my book published. I'll be breaking the news to Dr. T later this week.

ramadan ruse

Today I was talking to a guy from the Dubai office and he was asking me where I sneak off to when I want to eat or drink something. I told him that I was fasting along with everyone else in the office. He started laughing and told me most of the people in the office are having lunch while I think they're saying prayers. Don't I feel like a sucker.

I read an article in the paper yesterday that was talking about ramadan. What ends up happening here is people sleep all day because it's hot and they're tired from fasting. They wake up at night and hang out in iftar tents (tents full of food) to break fast. Then they watch TV, have the last meal before sunrise, and go to sleep. It sounds more like a night club life style than a religious event, but I'm sure some people take it seriously.

Another article talked about the top 10 bad things that people do during ramadan. Eight of the 10 things were about women. Among their list of bad things they do at ramadan:

Pretending to have the curse when they don't (women with the curse don't have to fast)
Wearing too much perfume (not sure about that one)
Talking to people at the mosque instead of, and I quote, "being silent"
Cooking too much food
Spending too much time in the kitchen cooking food and making it look nice
Claiming to be tired during fasting (while taking care of the kids, no doubt)
Not encouraging pre-teens to fast
Becoming anorexic during fasting

The bad things that men do included watching too much TV and sleeping too much.

death cab

You can always tell what the weather is like outside, A tells me, by looking at the sky. The closer the color of the sky is to the color of the desert, the hotter it's going to be.

I woke up this morning, and the sky was as blue as I've seen it. I walked outside and spent 30 minutes waiting for a cab. Just when I was thinking I would walk to the office because the weather didn't seem so bad, a cab showed up. I should note that when I got to the office everyone was talking about how it was "only 120 degrees" outside. Guess I'm getting used to the heat.

In the 30 minutes I was waiting, a cab actually did show up, but he refused to give me a ride. After the cab left I asked the bell hop why he didn't want to give me a ride, and the bell hop said "because he's Pakistani". Hm. Then I got to the office and met N, who I will be working in parallel with (he is a consultant for software that integrates with my software). It turns out N was born in Dallas, Texas but is Pakistani. When I told him what happened with the cab he laughed and said it's more likely the guy didn't want to give me a ride because I'm a woman rather than because I'm american.

N took me to get a SIM card, an arduous process involving mobs of people shoving at the phone counter and computers that kept breaking down, capped off with a lecture from a Palastinian woman about how my photocopy of my passport was "no good, no good at all". Then we found out the SIM card doesn't work in my crackberry, so I also had to buy a phone (we used to have spare phones in the office, but after my old company was taken over by my new company they got rid of the spare phones - but, they did hire a tea boy to bring everyone drinks - someone in corporate should get a huge raise for that decision).

As we were driving back to the office N told me that I was lucky to not end up in a cab with a Paki. He said they are the worst drivers in the world. I believe him after he told me that he had "only been in 2 accidents this year". Um, that's a good driving record? He was driving his mom's car because his was in the shop from his last accident. He said he was driving a little fast when "suddenly this Indian stopped rather suddenly at a red light". I was like "yeah, that happens all the time in the US too". Then I asked if, for the rest of the trip to the office, we could stop at the red lights just so we didn't get into an accident (for the record, everyone stops at red lights here, except, I guess, Pakistanis).

The guy who walks around the office parking garage cleaning cars surreptitiously made me a little hide away to smoke in by stacking up a bunch of boxes, which I found today, much to my surprise and delight (I only had two cigarettes over the course of 8 hours, so nip it). I know he's the one that did it because his cleaning supplies are in there too. As I've said before, these people are all about service. When I was asking N where I could do my laundry he looked at me as if I was right out of the trailer park and said "Do you mean, do we have laundromats like in the US? Franki, no. Here, we pay someone to do everything for us. Just send your laundry out."

N and I worked until late afternoon, and then I turned down an offer from him for a ride home, because I felt like he had already been so helpful to me (Pete, N says hi btw, you taught him DXL). I ended up in a cab with a Paki (cab drivers always tell me where they are from as soon as I get in the cab - why, I don't know) who didn't mind driving a woman around. The only problem was, he really was a bad driver.

It's the first time since being here that I actually feared for my life. He was speeding down a three lane road when suddenly traffic stopped in front of us. He slammed on the brakes and the car began turning sideways. Everyone was honking at us. Then he decided, for no reason, to cross three lanes of traffic without looking. We almost side swiped a range rover. By then I'd had enough so I yelled "HEY!" He looked in the rear view at me, and I said "You are making me VERY angry." He slowed down a little after that, and used his turn signal as he was cutting cars off. The important thing is I made it back to the hotel in one piece.

Tomorrow I'm doing my first training class for the air force here. It should be exciting, since the training material did not show up today. It will be there for class tomorrow, inshallah.

quitter

The second day at work during Ramadan was really hard. I'm not surprised that, as I read in the paper, people just stop showing up to work. It took forever to get a taxi this morning (30 minutes) and the whole time we were driving I saw taxis, empty, parked on the side of the road. People are too tired to work, especially in this heat.

Even though I ate two things of oatmeal this morning, I was really hungry around lunch time. I'm sure some of my clients may be a little shocked that I wanted to eat something during the day...I guess not drinking tea and not smoking gives me an appetite. I found myself staring at the Wahoo's web site, contemplating how many fish tacos I thought I might be able to eat. It was kind of sad.

Worse, though, happened this afternoon. I was ready to knock off around 3 (our quitting time during Ramadan), head back to the hotel, chain smoke a billion cigarettes, and then work out. But N, one of my colleagues, called and asked that I stay in the office for 40 minutes and wait for him. I was like "but with this nicotine headache I might beat you up when you finally show up". Instead I said I would wait.

So, not being able to smoke on the streets (you get arrested - ask me how I know that), and not being able to go home and smoke, I decided to sneak down to the bottom floor of the building, a parking garage. As soon as I walked off the elevator I could smell smoke. I snuck off behind this huge metal structure and was happily smoking when suddenly a car started coming down the parking lot ramp. I quickly killed my cigarette and ran back over to the elevator. I was panicking that who ever was in the car was going to yell at me, but then realized that HE was smoking in the garage.

Quitting smoking, while also quitting eating and drinking, sucks.

When I got back to the office I waited 45 minutes and then N called to say he wasn't coming. Traffic was bad heading back to the hotel because everyone leaves work early during Ramadan. But I'm not mad at N, that was the lack of nicotine talking.

The good thing is the gym hasn't been crowded at all.

UAE cacti

Here's a picture of my two cacti. The little one is the one A originally gave me. The bigger one is the one he gave me after I said I liked succulents.



I think I'll name the small one Poke Istan and the tall one Ali bin Stickers.








And this is Ireland's cactus. It has fungus.

cakes, and other things I can't eat

Today is the second day of Ramadan. The whole purpose of Ramadan is to fast from sun up (around 630 am) to sun down (around 630 pm) to teach muslims patience, modesty, and spirituality. Fasting means no eating, drinking, smoking, or chewing of gum, and you aren’t supposed to have any evil thoughts. At the end of Ramadan every muslim is supposed to give a month’s worth of expenses to someone who is poor, though this distribution of charity appears to be ongoing throughout Ramadan.

It’s a lot harder than it might seem at first to go 12 hours not eating or drinking anything. It’s especially true of Ramadan this year, because it has fallen during the summer months (Ramadan falls at a different time every year because it isn’t based on the solar calendar) and it seems like it will be very easy to get dehydrated during the day.

Most muslims break fast as soon as the sun goes down, and they stay up all night eating and drinking until the sun comes up. Then they have a nap for a few hours and get up and go to work. Ramadan, as reported by my colleagues here and in the paper, is the most dangerous time to be on the road, especially in the hours before the fast is broken, as people are trying to rush home and are tired from being up all night as well as light headed from fasting.

Technically I don’t have to fast, but there’s not really a way around it. Some offices curtain off an area for non-muslims to eat or drink but we haven’t done that in our office. All the restaurants and food places are closed until sundown. There isn’t a place to sneak off and smoke. It’s considered very rude to eat or drink in front of people fasting (for obvious reasons). I think I better get up super early tomorrow and drink as much water as humanly possible. I didn’t eat anything before I left the hotel today, which was another tactical error. I’m teaching class all day Wednesday and Thursday, which could get interesting on an empty stomach.

As a side note, I read in the paper last night that there is a panic over the availability of cakes and other baked sweets in Abu Dhabi. It seems that people are buying more confections this year than last, and bakers are working over time to keep up. There was also a helpful chart in the paper on how to break fast in a healthy way (e.g. don’t eat cakes first, eat fruit).

A cake would be nice to eat right now. I have a low grade headache from lack of water and nicotine. Oh well. Only 29 more days and then fasting is over…

on the eve of Ramadan

Today's corrections: my not anymore manager Chuck pointed out to me this morning that the email was sent to a different Charles that isn't him. That Charles did not see fit to inform anyone that he had received an email in error. He probably wishes he was a cool as Chuck, in fact, he might be obsessed with Chuck and pretending to be him like that guy in The Talented Mr. Ripley. Personally, I think the safest thing would be to fire him, or make him change his name.

I was a total slacker today. It's the first time since my arrival that I've slept through the morning call to prayer (430 am). When I woke up I finally got around to unpacking (discovered I forgot a few things) and had planned to do a little exploring (the weekend here is Friday and Saturday). But when I went out at 11 am the heat was so unbearable that I took a cue from the locals and went over to the mall. If you can imagine getting into your car on the hottest day of summer after it's been sitting in the sun all closed up for 6 hours, and closing the door without opening any windows and then trying to drive somewhere, you can imagine the heat here.

I returned to the co-op I went to last night and got a power adapter that actually works (unlike my current one). A very nice woman from Pakistan helped me pick out some nail polish. Then I checked out the food court in the mall proper and found an Indian place where I imagine I'll be spending a lot of time eating (fish tikka - yum). Oddly, there aren't many middle eastern restaurants, or if there are, I don't know where to find them. In Abu Dhabi most restaurants are located in hotels or malls. I thought I would find a small local place to eat at near the hotel, but that hasn't happened yet. There are McDonald's and KFCs everywhere. McDonald's sells something called a McArabia (fire the marketing person who came up with that name) which is kofta on a bun. They have signs for it everywhere.

Then I went to the gym at my hotel, which I love, love, love! They even have two rower machines. My experience so far is that the women all work out, and the guys stand around scratching themselves and watching the women work out. I ran two miles even though I told my dad I was going to ease back into running slowly and follow the workouts in the non-marathon runner's handbook, which said I was only supposed to run a half mile today (whatever!).

Finally, I went to the beach and planned to swim a mile, but that got boring really quickly. Instead I ended up sitting on a beach chair trying to read while this Greek guy on the squash court behind me made obscene noises every time he hit the ball, and 3 german kids set up camp in front of me and took turns burying each other. I assume, though I haven't verified, that the sand on the beach came from the desert, because it's super fine, like talcum powder, and it gets into everything.

I was debating going to check out a bar or club on the hotel property, but decided to stay in and read my book. Best to wait until Ireland is back in town, I think. This evening while I was at the beach I noticed that, although I took a chair in an area that was completely deserted, by the time I put my book away and decided to get dinner four of the guys who were at the beach when I got there had moved to chairs a lot closer to mine. One of the guys was so hairy that when I first glanced over at him, curled up on a chair, I thought "oh nice, someone brought their dog and it's sleeping on a lounge like a person". Gross!

Speaking of which, the coconut crackers didn't work out very well. They were literally like saltine crackers sprinkled with coconut shavings. And I found out my cherries were grown in Iran, not Turkey. I wanted to get more today but most of the fruit was sold out since Ramadan starts tomorrow.

"welcome to the country...illegally!"

Today I was supposed to get my residence visa. Ha ha ha. Didn't happen.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking wow, the bureaucratic mess of UAE's government! You would be wrong. The problem is actually MY COMPANY.

I got to the office in Dubai after a two hour tour of the city by my colleague A, who knows everything about Dubai, including where all the sheiks live. I have to admit that Dubai is aesthetically one of the most amazing cities I've ever seen. It doesn't look real, it looks like Dubai Disney. Even the concrete overpasses are decorative, having been painted and with ornamental cement flourishes. There was no trash, anywhere (and they have recycling bins!). The city has grass, trees, and flowers everywhere. All the buildings sort of match each other.

Anyway, I was told by the HR rep who was supposed to do my residency visa that someone had failed to fill out "the initialization form" and that I was "in the country illegally". The HR rep, V, is french, very attractive, and prone to dramatic fits. In fact, what she said to me was "Welcome to the country...ILLEGALLY!" I calmly pointed out to her that I had a visa for 60 days (though, in my passport they only put 30 days, which worried me, but I was told by both V and Ireland "of course they only put 30 days in your passport" - as if I'm the one being illogical) and that only my COMPANY considered me to be in the country illegally. More wringing of hands and sighs from V. "I can do NOTHING about this situation. NOTHING!" she finally said, throwing her hands up to the heavens, perhaps to implore some higher being to remove me from her sight (I did wash my hair today, but have to admit my outfit was no where near as stylish as hers - she was wearing Jimmy Choos and this ring that I've always coveted from Tiffany's, Elsa Peretti collection).

At this point Ireland stepped in (we seem to have naturally developed a good cop/bad cop routine) and said "I swear on my heart I don't know what this "initialization" thing is. We thought we had done everything right." Even when she lies through her teeth, she sounds sincere due to her accent. More back and forth, while I stared out V's window and wondered why an HR person would have such a posh office, overlooking an oasis, when suddenly I heard V say "But I sent the email to Charles". I was like "I don't even KNOW a Charles!" when suddenly I realized she had sent the email to my manager who isn't my manager anymore, Chuck.

Everyone knows Chuck's email is a black hole. Things get sucked into his inbox and proceed towards the event horizon until they are overcome by exponentially increasing gravity, ceasing to be an email, and instead becoming a spaghettification of zeros and ones from which no sense can ever be made (and worse occurs if you get a lotus notes database link, which causes the black hole to increase in size, beyond lotus notes, to consume applications and documents standing too close). All this happens while Chuck is sitting on 6 hour conference calls. It isn't his fault.

Anyway, we have 60 days to clean up the mess. Ireland is working on the "initialization" thing tonight even though she has to leave for Pakistan on Saturday at 3 in the morning and has loads to do before then. I got the task of getting an official diploma for my master's degree to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in the US, so they can send it to UAE, because without it I won't get a residence visa (I was like can't I just get a copy of the one I have, and V, horrified, said "a COPY?" as though I were suggesting giving Audrey Hepburn a knockoff birkin or something). In the mean time, the scope of my job here is expanding rapidly. But that's a good thing.

I finished my day at the Abu Dhabi co-op, a store that's like Target, but better. The push carts are beautifully painted, there's everything in the world there, and I bought a bag of cherries that must have come straight from Malatya. I also bought a box of something that I'm really, really hoping turns out to be coconut cookies. Though, the box could contain something else. I hope it isn't a facial. I once bought what I thought was going to be a bag of dried strawberries in Greece, only to find out a week after I opened and ate the contents (which I assumed to be some kind of yogurt) that it was a facial. I found out when I brought another bag in to the office to have for breakfast during a meeting - yes, I did that in front of a customer.

note to luggage: next time I want a post card

My lost luggage showed up today, after taking a short vacation in Brazil. I don't know how my luggage got routed to Brazil from Heathrow, but the tag was still on my bag when I picked it up from the front desk at Le M this evening. And, contrary to my dad's fears, nothing appears to be missing.

Today was a busy day at the office. Ireland was gone all morning because our idiot company first failed to copy and paste the correct text that Ireland had sent them into her visa request for Pakistan (she leaves Sunday). Then they did the copy and paste correctly, but failed to stamp the letter. She received it 20 minutes before the Pakistani embassy closed. When I saw her this evening she was in a bad mood because of her foot. The bruising is really setting in and it looks marvellous. She told me after it happened at the wedding she took one of those champagne buckets, filled it with ice, stuck her foot in it and prayed her parents wouldn't walk by and see her. It's almost like we're twins, separated at birth.

When I got in this morning I decided to move to a new desk because I didn't like the ethernet cord at my original desk (it's black, yuck, I only use the blue ones). The desk was kind of dirty so I asked the office manager where I might get some cleaning supplies. She looked at me, horrified, and said "you can't clean the desk!" I thought maybe that was for religious reasons, and decided I would sneak clean it while she was at lunch, but then I heard her telling our "office boy" to clean my desk.

The office boy is a very sweet skeletal little youngster. Yesterday he was so afraid of me that if I entered any part of the office where he was he would scamper away and hide in the supply closet. I told the office manager that I could clean my desk myself, but the office boy had already sprinted in and cleaned it for me. As I thanked him he drew in his breath and made this horrible sound. His eyes got really big. Then he gingerly lifted my water bottle, which he had placed on another desk so he could clean my desk, and placed it exactly where I had set it earlier that morning. Then he covered his ears and ran away.

Well, he'll be in the closet for at least the rest of the morning, I thought to myself. But he came by my desk at lunch to see if I wanted him to bring me some food. I said "what would you recommend I have for lunch?" I guess he didn't know what to say, because he backed away from me slowly, clutching the front of his shirt, and when he got to the door, he ran away again.

A, who is the other architect I will be working with, came in at 4 pm and wanted to talk shop. I was pretty tired, having been working since 730, but we chatted until 6. He gave me a little cactus. He gives all the architects a cactus when they start working his program. I started telling him about my cacti, currently residing with Joe (tammy faye cactus, I miss you!) and he went to his desk and brought me a bigger cactus, with a flower on it. Ireland was like "hey, how come she gets the cactus with a flower on it?" and A said "Do you even know where your cactus is?" Ireland claimed someone stole it, but then A walked over to this cabinet next to Ireland's desk, flung it open, and pulled out the saddest little yellow cactus you've ever seen. Ireland said "I wonder how it got in there?" like it had magically transported itself into the cabinet.

Tomorrow I'm going to Dubai to get my residency visa. And hopefully a new SIM card for my phone. Then Ireland is taking me to the "special" store, where one can procure wine. Important to do before Ramadan starts...

dude, where's my bag?

My flight from Denver to Heathrow reminded me why I never fly american carriers overseas. Besides being packed the service was horrible. If the US government is going to give money to the auto industry, why not also give the airlines a subsidy so I don't have to pay for wine on my flight?

The carrier I took to Abu Dhabi, Etihad, was ornately decorated and very, very small. I ended up in the second seat in a row of four seats, sandwiched between a guy from Pakistan who didn't really want to be sitting next to a western woman, and a woman from Iraq (I know where they were from because I saw their passports). Her husband had the other end seat. I'm not sure if they purposely don't let women sit in the aisles, but I didn't see any women with an aisle seat.

The guy from Iraq seemed a little crazy. He kept having these uncontrollable outbursts, where he would suddenly shout things like "there's a little problem here! a LITTLE problem!" in arabic. He would also lean over and tap his wife's tv screen, causing it to switch to another channel. Then they would start wrestling. Not a conducive environment for sleeping. Of course, with three little kids under the age of 8 sitting in front of me, I probably wouldn't have slept anyway. They had worked out a very efficient schedule where one would start crying as soon as one would stop. Hard to believe anyone could cry for 8 hours...

The crying started because of the Iraqi guy. One of the kids, a 3 year old red headed girl, stuck her head over her seat and looked at the Iraqi guy, prompting him to yell, in English "HI! What are you? Fine? What name you!" He then burped loudly right in her face. She started to cry. But apparently didn't learn her lesson, because she kept peeking over the seat at him and the same scene would repeat (except the burping, which appeared to be happening spontaneously throughout the flight rather than being triggered by any particular event).

Weirdly, when we were about to land, all the lights went down on the plane and then our tv screens showed footage from the plane's camera, so we could see ourselves landing. Everyone stared at the screens transfixed, including myself. It was kind of disconcerting to see the plane bouncing across the runway, but at the same time kind of cool.

After what seemed like hours I made it to the door of the plane, stepped out on the stairs, and was hit in the face with a hot wind that was so strong it blew me backwards. I knew it was going to be hot here, but didn't realize it would be so windy. Everyone was having problems getting down the stairs because of the wind.

Arriving at 1 in the morning is a good time. I breezed through customs. Everyone else was getting hassled but the guy took one look at my blond hair, smiled at me, and stamped my passport. They also did a retinal scan, which was kind of weird.

Then I got to baggage claim and realized that Etihad is arabic for "we forgot your luggage". I waited for an hour while these Etihad agents ran all around the baggage claims looking for my bags. I was told by everyone in the office lost luggage from Heathrow flying Etihad is more commonplace than having luggage that arrives. My backpack with my climbing and diving gear arrived, but unfortunately TSA forgot to rezip the zippers after searching it, so I lost all of my emergen-c and green tea. Insert explicative here.

I had to fill out a report, and by that time it was 2 in the morning. I wandered out into the main airport area only to find all of the ATMs and money changers shut down. I was like great, no money, need a cab to the airport, I'm exhausted, what the hell am I going to do? I finally talked a driver into taking me to the hotel and got the hotel to pay him. One thing is definitely true about this place...they are all about service. And incredibly kind. They even gave me an adapter, for free, at the front desk since the one I brought didn't work.

I finally got to bed at 3 in the morning, and rolled into the office a little late. Everyone I met today was extremely nice. And I can tell the Irish woman I'll be working with and I are going to get along great. First, she wears flip flops to the office (and I can too - hooray!). Second, she had her foot wrapped, and when I asked what happened she said that she was at her brother's wedding back in Ireland a few days ago, dancing barefoot, and someone stepped on her foot with a stiletto. I tried not to smile, because that sounds like an injury I would get, and she said "I had to get shots, you know". And finally, she said "thank god there's someone else in the office that drinks wine". She was disappointed that I didn't get any at the airport, but, it was 2 in the morning, and I wasn't thinking straight.

In any case, it appears I will spend my time here living out of the Le Meridien hotel. I go to Dubai on Thursday to get my residence visa, and will possibly go to the AF base first thing next week. And I have a training class scheduled for the end of next week. I have a feeling I could stay here a long time and never run out of work.

Hopefully tomorrow my bag will show up. In the mean time, I took Irish's advice and ordered dinner in. I hope to get more sleep tonight.

because everything should taste like bacon

As a fellow seasoned traveler, I always read with interest Jeffy's suggestions on products I could use as I bounce around the globe.


There was the time, after I got leptospiriosis, that he suggested a water filter. It's a filter used by the military and it kills everything. That was a useful suggestion, but, since I already had lepto, I wasn't sure what I might do with it, except shove it up my ass and kill the bacteria post consumption.


Then, he sent me a link to a knife that looked like something OJ Simpson might cherish. Getting it through customs might have been difficult. But, some day in a sand storm, I may regret not having it, as I won't be able to saw open my camel and climb inside.


But my favorite was the recommendation today:


J&D's Bacon Lip Balm
From the makers of Baconnaise and Bacon Salt comes a bacon-flavored product that you don't even have to eat. J&D's Bacon Lip Balm ($13/4-pack) will protect your lips with beeswax, aloe vera oil, Vitamin E acetate, and other ingredients, all while offering a subtle bacon flavor both you and your partner can enjoy.

http://www.uncrate.com/men/body/skin/jds-bacon-lip-balm/

I am really, REALLY hoping this isn't a real product. I'm picturing a guy with this shit smeared all over his lips and it makes me want to vomit.

Which, since we're talking about lip balm, reminds me of one of my pet peeves. Guys with shiny lips are a total turn off. It makes me think of two things: either, he just went down on someone, or he's wearing lip gloss.

The thing is, it's okay for guys to have chapped lips. As long as there isn't skin sticking up all over the place. It's rugged. Like calloused hands. If I ever touch a guy's hand and it's smooth I get the shudders. What kind of guy has hands like a little girl? Go do some yard work or something. Poke around in your car's engine and bloody up your knuckles. If you have hands and lips like a girl, why would I date you? I would date a girl, who hopefully has shoes I like and clothes I can borrow.

But, I wouldn't date a girl, because the bitch would probably take my favorite coach bag and get lipstick all over the inside of it. Or worse, leave a tampon in it, and I would be pulling out my ID at the airport and the tampon would come flying out.

So not cool.

heading east and other exciting news

I finally got the go ahead for my trip to the middle east today. I'm leaving for Abu Dhabi on Sunday. I'm not sure when I'm returning, likely February. But, it may be later than that because...

I also found out today that I was accepted into the Banff mountain writing program, which starts in November. I guess when I get to AD I'll figure out whether or not it's feasible for me to go. I am hoping it is as it will give me an opportunity to get my book finished and, allah willing, published.

I have no idea why I was picked for the program. My list of publications reads more like an engineering snorefest than something "mountain" people might want to read. Maybe they liked my story submissions, or figured anyone stupid enough to do an open water swim without knowing how to swim would be good entertainment, albeit a possible insurance liability.

it's sweet

I hope to spend at least a couple of weekends in Turkey while I'm over in that area of the world. It's possibly my favorite country I've ever visited. I loved the shady characters in Istanbul, the beaches, the mosques, the food (best cherries ever), and the people.

While I was there on a trip in 1999, I decided to travel to a remote area of the country to see some Roman ruins. I had been counseled not to go to that area because there were problems with the Kurds, and it was close to the Iraqi border. But I went anyway.

I hired a taxi driver to take me around for the day. I went to five sites. When I would get back to the taxi after visiting each site I would find my driver progressively more and more drunk. By the time I got to the final site I was worried he wouldn't be able to drive, but it was the site I had most wanted to see, so I told the driver I would be back in 10 minutes or less and headed off to take a picture of this really cool Medusa head.

When I returned to where I had left him, the taxi driver was gone. By then it was evening and the sun was going down. I was in a very remote area with nothing but my guide book. It would have taken hours to walk to the nearest town even if I had known what roads to take.

I walked until I found a house and knocked on the door. The guy who answered, amazingly, spoke English. He told me not to worry, that a bus would come by, and I could take it back to town. I asked where the bus stop was and he pointed to this corner of the street that was overgrown with weeds. No sign, no nothing. I was a little dubious so I asked when the bus would come. "Soon," he said. "Very soon."

Uh huh. So I stood on the corner, in the weeds, feeling like someone was playing a joke on me. As the sun sank lower I saw a car coming down the street. It was a big white sedan, and there were four men in the car. As they drove passed me the car slowed to a crawl, and all the men were staring at me, standing in my sweaty clothes looking like a scrawny and defenseless idiot. Great, I thought, here's the part of the trip where I get kidnapped by terrorists.

The car drove up to a wider part of the street and turned around, coming back towards me. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack, but I didn't move. There was no place to run to. The car stopped on the street, and the four men got out. One walked over to me, reaching into his shirt. I speculated that maybe they were going to shoot me instead kidnapping me.

To my surprise, the guy pulled out this enormous cucumber and handed it to me. We stared at each other. I suddenly wanted to cry, but instead I laughed. The man gestured at the cucumber. I laughed harder and wondered what the fuck was going on.

Finally, he took it away from me, pulled out a knife, and cut off the end of the cucumber. Then he cut a slice and handed it to me. "It's sweet" he said to me in arabic. I realized that these guys had seen me looking like a wretchedly sweaty and lost tourist, and they stopped to give me a refreshing snack to eat while I was waiting for the bus. I felt horrible for assuming the worst about them.

The bus finally came, and I eventually got back to my hotel. I ate the whole cucumber. It was sweet.

health "care"

I've always thought our health care system was stupid. For example, the fact that I had to pay for my chemo out of pocket because it wasn't covered under the plan, while this idiot woman I worked with got $45,000 worth of fertility treatments, and then needed $100,000 of treatment during the birth of her kid because she was obese and that caused complications.

And my experience this past week...I was diagnosed with shingles on Monday, but told there was no treatment for it because I had waited too long to see a doctor (my doctor said the drug treatment is only effective if taken in the first 48 hours of a breakout). Of course, the reason I didn't see a doctor right after the rash started is because I couldn't get an appointment. I told the doctor I was worried that I would have another outbreak while traveling in the middle east, and asked for a prescription that I could fill before I left.

He didn't want to write that prescription, but was more than willing to write me a 30 day prescription for any pain med I wanted. I was like you will give me oxycontin, but not a fucking antibiotic? He finally gave me the prescription, which is a good thing. I found out from another doctor that the 48 hour rule was bullshit. I took the meds and my rash and the pain cleared up within 12 hours. But, now I have to go to ME without drugs because the doctor refused to write me another prescription. Ass pipe.

Then, he gave me a prescription for a quit smoking drug, since I'm going to do that. When I went to pick it up at the pharmacy they said he should have known he would have to call in to get approval for the prescription before he gave it to me. I called the doctor's office to ask them to do that, and faxed them the information they needed. It took 2 days for them to call me back, and that was with the news that my healthcare plan doesn't cover smoking cessation. How fucking stupid is that?

I went back to the pharmacy and they said they could fill my prescription but it was going to cost me about $400. I asked if there was another, cheaper drug, and they said there was but I would have to get a new prescription from my doctor, and when they had suggested that to him he declined to give me a new prescription.

I was so pissed that I told the pharmacist "Fine, I'll just keep smoking". He sighed, and then told me to sit in the waiting area for a few minutes. Then he called my name, and gave me THE SAME prescription that they were originally going to charge me $400 for, and told me that it was now $94.40. I was like HOW is that possible? He told me that he filled it under some plan they have for people without insurance. At first I felt bad taking the meds because I didn't want to cause someone who really didn't have insurance to not be able to get the drug, but he said the system doesn't work that way. And I was really grateful to him for helping me out, so much so that I wrote a letter to the president of his company.

So now I'm wondering why I'm paying $200 a month for health insurance. I've had one doctor's visit this year ($60), and the shingles drug was so cheap I didn't have to use insurance to cover the cost. I can't get timely appointments with the doctors in my network, and the things I really need aren't covered in my plan.

Stupid.

2046

2046 has become one of my favorite movies. And not just because there are the best stilettos ever that light up when the female character walks in them.

There are three women in the movie, and this perfectly horrible guy, who is a writer. He's also a gambler who isn't good at controlling his impulses.

First, he falls in love with this woman who is married. Or he says he loves her. He says in the movie that you can meet the perfect person, but if the timing isn't right, it won't work out. I don't agree with that. I think if you really love someone, even if the timing is wrong, you can eventually find a way to be with that person. Even though I've had a few relationships that didn't work out because of what I thought was bad timing, I eventually realized the real problem was a difference in goals and what we wanted.

Then the guy falls in love with this totally innocent, sweet girl, who helps him do his work and takes care of him while he's sick. The girl doesn't know he's in love with her though, because she's in love with someone else, though she's unable to express her love.

He helps her get together with the guy she's in love with, even though he claims it broke his heart. But the more I see the movie, the more I think he wants her because he can never have her and he never has to deal with the reality of being in a relationship with her. That's one of the weirdest things about relationships. I think women tend to be supportive of the person they're with regardless of what he does (sleep with someone else, act like an abusive asshole). But men aren't that way. One little thing goes wrong and they turn on you. Like every guy I work with that complains his wife is fat. What did you think was going to happen after she had your fucking kids? These are always the same guys who don't help out around the house, so by the time their wives get done taking care of all the shit they have to do, they don't have time to work out.

While he's in love with the innocent girl, he starts a relationship with an escort. The escort really loves him, and he humiliates her for that. He pays her every time they have sex, and refuses to spend the night with her. She puts up with all this bullshit until she can't take it anymore and then she leaves him. He says he regrets the way he treated her, but when he has an opportunity to do the right thing he fucks her over again. Yet he writes about her in his stories.

The movie is a movie within a movie. The guy is writing a screenplay called 2046, about how people in the future can travel back in time to 2046 so they can live in their memories. In the screenplay, his character decides to leave 2046 and go home. While he's traveling home he ends up having a relationship with a robot. He falls in love with the robot. But then the robot's circuits wear out and she is taken out of service. He says of the robot that he never knew if she really loved him or not.

The conclusion I came to after watching this movie (where, actually, the characters are the same people, watch the watch and the way they smoke) is that guys want the robot. She does what ever he wants and is obedient (a theme that recurs throughout the movie). Also, guys are uncomfortable with emotion so they don't want to be with a partner who is emotional, like the escort. They want someone who's available when it's convenient for them, and they don't want to have to deal with other people's needs.

I guess the difference between men and women really boils down to birthing. Guys don't really have to do anything except get their dick in the right place. Women have to be pregnant, have their body ruined, and then take care of the kid. If they weren't emotional they would do a horrible job at parenthood. Women have to accommodate the needs of their kid whether it's convenient or not. Guys never have to do that, and it makes them emotionally stunted.

And it's funny. Most relationship books counsel women to be more robotic (don't get upset, don't ask him where he's going, don't be clingy). And women put up with this shit because, unlike men, they are capable of really loving someone. That's fucked up.

Cage

Last night I had a dream I was walking down this outside stairwell in Georgetown and I recognized a guy walking up the stairs. So I said hi to him and we started talking. The guy was like "I haven't seen you in 10 years!" and he invited me to go to a party with him. So we started walking to the party and I realized I had no idea who the guy was. But he kept saying how much he had missed me and how glad he was that he had run into me so I kept walking with him.

We came to this dorm building that had loud music coming out of it. We walked through a warren of hallways and through a bunch of messy dorm rooms. Sometimes the guy would move a chair or a trunk in the room and we would have to get down on our hands and knees to crawl through a tunnel to get to the next room. Finally we came to this space that looked like a gym but there were women's clothes strewn all over the place and people standing around drinking beer. They were all really young.

We found the bar and the guy got me a drink, put his arm around me, and said "I want to introduce you to my friends". Just then these three college aged girls came running up to him and said "oh my god, Nicholas Cage!" And then I looked at the guy and realized it was Nicholas Cage. The girls tried to pull him over to their friends but he said he had to take me to meet his friends so they glared at me and walked away.

We went in to a dorm room that led to another room. The first room was full of guys that knew Nick even though they were also college age. They looked at me and Nick told them I was his girlfriend. I started thinking it was weird that he would say that since we had just met. Then he took me to the next room, and there was a full sized bed with a green cover on it. There was nothing else in the room. He said I could lay down and take a nap if I wanted to and that he would be back later.

I laid down on the bed but then started thinking that I should find Nick, so I got up and looked into the room where his friends were sitting. His friends had gotten a lot bigger since I had first seen them and they were really drunk. I was afraid to walk into the room because I thought they might beat me up, so I climbed out a window and ended up in a parking lot that looked the like the parking lot of my hotel in Seoul. I was wondering how I had gotten to Korea since I had just been in DC, but then Nick started walking towards me and was like "I have been looking EVERYWHERE for you!" All these girls kept grabbing him as we were walking through the parking lot but he kept saying to them "please be respectful of my girlfriend".

He took me over to this deserted area of the parking lot that had a chain link fence that was broken and part of it was laying on the ground. I realized if we stepped over the chain link fence we would be back in DC. Nick said "Before we go to DC, there's something I have to tell you. I love you and I want to marry you". I said I wasn't sure it would be a good idea to get married since we had just met. And he said "What are you talking about? We've known each other for 10 years!" I said I didn't remember being his friend, or ever hanging out with him. He said "Don't you remember when we met?" and he was really upset.

I said "Did we meet in college?" and right after I said it I realized that if I had said anything but that, everything would have been okay. His face turned angry and he said "maybe you aren't who I thought you were" and walked over the fence, away from me. I wanted to follow but I looked down and saw the chain link fence was wrapped around my legs and I couldn't walk. I was going to call to him to ask for help but he was talking to a group of about 10 college girls and they were laughing. I didn't want them to look over and see me, because they would laugh at me, so I started trying to untangle the fence by myself.

The more untangled I tried to make the fence the worse it became. I started thinking I would be in Korea forever and never get to go home again. The sun was getting hotter and hotter and I felt like I was going to pass out.

Then I woke up.

killer sock puppets

Two nights ago I had a dream that I was in England, in the country, and was staying in a hotel in this little village. It was nighttime, and there was a huge wedding going on, but I wasn't invited. The hotel was deserted.

So I decided to sneak over to the church where the wedding was being held. It was a small stone building. I crept through some bushes and looked in one of the windows. The glass was so old my view was distorted and I couldn't make anything out. So I pushed the window open. I could hear wedding music.

When I looked inside I could see that the bride and groom were saying their vows. But, they were sock puppets with no faces. Then I noticed all the people in the church were just sock puppets without faces. They had these skinny wooden dowels coming out from their bodies where their arms should have been, and at the end of the dowels were these round wooden knobs.

I started to get scared that everyone in the village had turned into a sock puppet and that I might turn into one too. I began backing away from the window, but the sock puppets heard me moving through the bushes.

They flew out of the church door and began beating me with their wooden knob arms. At first I was afraid and then I started laughing and said "you can't hurt me with your arms". But they started flying at my face. One sock puppet wedged himself in my mouth, and another somehow was able to block my nose and eyes by wrapping around my head tightly. I started to suffocate. The other sock puppets were holding my arms so I couldn't move. I began to pass out.

Then I woke up.

who invited the asshole?

Last night Brassy invited one of his friends over for dinner. The friend, here after referred to as X, is a doctor. If his ego were a vehicle, it would surely be a blimp.

X was obviously uncomfortable in my presence, so I asked him about healthcare reform and his thoughts. He proceeded to tell me I'm a horrible patient, and that the reason I get bad care from my doctors is because I don't threaten to sue them. Interesting.

Then X insulted my doctors at Hopkins, and said the cancer treatment I received there was wrong. He said that hospital's reputation is way overblown. When I defended my oncologist, who was brilliant and nice, he wouldn't listen to me. He said my knee doctor was a hack and did a horrible job on my knee scar, and that he would never want to sleep with me because my scar is so hideous. Really. I love the way guys assume every woman wants to sleep with them.

I was getting pissed off, but could see in Brassy's eyes that he really wanted X and I to get along. So I walked outside and had a cigarette, then did the dinner dishes. Brassy and X were talking about the publishing business for a while. I decided to just ignore X the rest of the night because having a conversation with him was impossible.

We ended up on the back porch where I was lectured about smoking, as X took one of my cigarettes without asking and proceeded to light it. Then he did this weird Clint Eastwood impersonation of him doing surgery. I wasn't sure what to make of that. He looked at my shingles and confirmed the diagnosis, and said I must have an unhealthy diet. I mentioned that I eat mostly salads and fruit, as well as edamame, and he said that I am eating all the wrong things. He said "lay off the tea, coffee, chocolate, and milk products". I was like "I don't consume ANY of those things" but he didn't listen.

Then he offered to check out this swollen lymph node I've had for years. It needs to be biopsied (like I have time). He immediately diagnosed it as probably lymphoma, and said I needed to come to his office this week to have it taken care of. I was like, no, not going to do that. This caused him to fly into a rage about how stupid I am to turn down and offer from such a brilliant doctor as himself. He said I was going to die while I was over in the middle east. I was like great, thanks.

Things deteriorated super fast after that. He said smokers have stinky cooches and that guys never tell you. Neither do doctors. He said when he has patients with smelly cooches he puts on two masks with peppermints in them. I was like if that's true why wouldn't you tell them? You're their fucking doctor.

A discussion ensued about how guys would never tell a girl she smelled bad, with me saying that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. They both said they would still go down on a girl even if she smelled. Brassy got the spins and X realized it was 3 in the morning and he had to get up for surgery the next day. I can't say I was sad when he left. And, no offense Brassy, you can keep X as your special friend. Because I'd like to kick him in the balls.

cake stealer payback

The cupcakes remind me of another story...

There was this total tool of a woman that worked in my building. One of her "jobs" (she never really worked, but walked around talking to everyone) was to order food for customer meetings. She would always order way too much food, and then take it home with her. It was really pretty retarded.

So I was having a meeting and she ordered this cake that I really like (well, not the cake, but the frosting, coconut, yum!). But the cake never made it into the meeting. I asked her where it was and she said she needed it for another meeting. I was like you lying bitch, you're going to steal my cake.

So after the meeting was over I found the cake in the refrigerator and tried to take a piece of it. The woman, Carmela, came in and took the cake literally right out of my hands and walked away with it. So I waited a half hour and went looking for it again. I found it in her private refrigerator. So I popped open the lid and stuck my finger in EVERY single piece of cake, and then closed it back up so she couldn't see that it had been tampered with. When I saw her carrying it out to her car that night I cracked up laughing.

The other thing I did to her was even more mean. She used to walk into my meetings and take soft drinks that were for our customers. So before my meeting started I took a can of diet coke, which is what she drank, and shook it up. Then I kicked it around on the floor. I put it in an accessible place. Sure enough, 5 minutes into my meeting she came in and grabbed the coke. I didn't see the explosion but I did hear her scream.

Unbelievably, my manager yelled at me for the explosion. I played dumb. And then I said, well the guys who brought the cokes in dropped a few on the floor. But none of my CUSTOMERS who were drinking the cokes had a problem.

Point heard. That stupid woman never came anywhere near my meetings again. Though, we always had the WORST food, and she would "forget" to order drinks.

muffins

HP2.0 and I went to a charity event for denver youth at risk. He introduced me to some of his friends and then had to go talk to someone else. So I was talking to the guys and they had met HP2.0 in a leadership course, and then some of them did Rainier with him.

They were laughing because one day at the leadership course HP2.0 brought in muffins. He forgot the tin and sent an email to everyone looking for it. HP2.0 is one of the few people that is worse than I am when it comes to A type behavior and I guess he was being a little over-reactive about his muffin tin. Yeah, he could have gone out and bought a new one, but he wanted his own tin back.

The class decided to play a joke on HP2.0. They started taking the muffin tin around and taking pictures of it. They apparently even set up an email address for the muffin tin, and the muffin tin kept emailing HP2.0. One of the guys took the tin to Vegas and had a stripper put it between her tits.

The tin was finally returned to poor HP2.0. He laughed about the joke, but I don't think he really thought it was funny. The moral of the story is, of course, muffins suck. I don't even know why anyone would eat them. They have that weird top part that's like a cookie but not good. Then the bottom part kind of looks like a cupcake but tastes like crap, unlike a cupcake. In fact, why make anything that shape that you can't put frosting on. Which is to say, I don't really like cupcakes either, but I do like frosting as long as it's lemon or vanilla - chocolate frosting is disgusting.

In fact, I once had a work meeting and ordered cupcakes. There were 4 left over after the meeting, so I licked all the frosting off them, and called my then boyfriend and asked if he wanted the cupcakes. He ate one but didn't finish the rest after I told him the reason they weren't frosted is because I had already eaten the frosting. But I was like whatever dude. You stick your tongue in my mouth, why should it matter if I licked the cupcake.

I bet he told everyone that story after we broke up.

rashy and brassy

As if I don't have enough to worry about with my impending departure to the middle east and work, I woke up on Thursday morning with a monster rash on my lower back.

At first I thought it was an allergic reaction to something, so I tried to ignore it. By friday it was so painful that I could barely stand to sit for more than an hour. It literally felt like I had a horrible bruise on my back, like the time I wrecked my mountain bike.

Of course, by the time it occurred to me to call a doctor, I couldn't get an appointment. I thought I would give it the weekend and then maybe it would get better. I put cortizone on it like every hour. Saturday and Sunday the pain in my back was so bad I spent most of the weekend working on white papers instead of getting out and doing something fun. I couldn't even ride my bike because it hurt to have anything like clothes touching my back. And to put this in perspective, I walked around with a broken hand and finger for two weeks without taking any pain meds. I ate a caramel apple two days after I had 4 impacted wisdom teeth taken out. So I'm not a pussy.

Jeffy was surmising that maybe I have an alien growing in my back, or that I've been taken over by a mutant fungus that's going to slowly kill me. Turns out, the truth isn't that exciting.

Finally got in to see a doctor today. I have shingles. Fuck fuck fuck. And because I waited so long to go to the doctor's there's nothing they can do (the rash is starting to heal so they can't treat it). He did give me some drugs in case it comes back again. Bottom line, I'm not looking forward to a 20 hour flight with this shit on my back. I can barely stand to sit on my couch...

But, pain relief is on its way. Joe (aka Brassy) just left for the airport to come here to pick up Jakey. He's going to watch him while I'm gone, along with my cacti, including Tammy Faye Cactus and St. David Thornstein. As soon as we get to my house I'm popping open a bottle of wine. I just know I'll feel better. And so will Joe, who is dealing with a neighbor who's underage kid drove a bronco through Joe's garage on Saturday right as Joe was leaving for work.

To give credit where it's due, Joe came up with the phrase "rashy and brassy".

tug boat

Painting number 10 is for my friend and colleague Lou. I was telling him about how I made a painting for the UK guys and offered to make one for him. He asked what they wanted and I explained the whole "robo-chicken fighting a were pig with light sabers and binary stars in the background" thing they had come up with. He was hm, how about a tug boat? Lou, as you can see, is much more reasonable than the Brits.

But, when I got ready to paint I realized I didn't know what a tug boat looked like. I did a search on the internet and found this picture:

It seemed like it might be easy to paint. But, I over estimate my skills, greatly. After trying to do a picture based on this photo, I also downloaded this to help since I couldn't get the details right. Also, I wanted a worse picture than the one I was painting to look at to make myself feel better. Even if that painting was done by a 5 year old.

Anyway, here's how the painting came out. It's okay I guess. Maybe he'll throw it away. Probably he will keep it if only because I named the tug boat after our software.

As you can see, the proportions are totally wrong, I tried to make things 3-d and that didn't work out at all, the ocean looks like it's about to engulf the tug, and then there's the matter of the rivets. After I got done painting it I was looking at the picture and realized the boat had no rivets. I'm pretty sure every boat has rivets. So I started putting them on and I couldn't stop. Everything ended up with a rivet border.

Oh well. Hopefully he has children and people will think they did it. Or maybe he can say he bought the painting at a charity auction of art made by retards. I think I'll call it tug two.

I should also note here that I was IMing with Jamesy and he said that he would have thrown away the painting I gave him if I wasn't the one who had made it. And that I showed the uranus painting to Eva and Dan and they laughed at it. And that I showed my paintings to my sister this weekend and she laughed so hard she choked on her diet coke.

Maybe I should do a stand up routine of my paintings. I guess I'm happy to bring a smile to everyone's face, even at the expense of my art.

dinosaurs

My sister, her husband, and my niece and nephew came to visit me this weekend. My nephew Michael, 5, is obsessed with dinosaurs, so we thought it would be fun to take him to dinosaur ridge.

At first he was excited about the idea, but as we got ready to leave the house, he suddenly said "I think I'll stay home". I thought that was strange so I said "Don't you want to see some dinosaurs?" He was like "No, I don't want to see them anymore".

After further discussion, which caused him to get VERY upset and almost cry, I realized he thought there were going to be REAL dinosaurs at the park and he was afraid one would eat him. Once we told him that there were no live dinosaurs he got excited about going.

We saw some dinosaur bones in rocks, and some dinosaur tracks. You can touch everything at dinosaur ridge, which is really cool. You can distinguish between a dinosaur bone and rocks because the bones feel waxy when you touch them. Then we went into this museum. There we were accosted by this excitable young lad, age 21, who wanted to give us a tour of the museum (we were the only people there).

He started in on his lecture, which was interesting, but Michael kept farting really loudly. My sister and I had to walk away because we were both laughing so hard. Every time my sister starts laughing it makes me laugh even harder. I used to get in trouble for that all the time when I was a kid because my dad didn't like it when we would start laughing. She also used to do things to make me laugh but she wouldn't laugh.

Anyway, at one point the guy started showing us dinosaur parts and then he would show us these toy dinosaurs the part came from. We saw plates from a stegasaurus and spikes from the tail of a triceratop. The guy mentioned that they've found teeth from a t rex but have never found a whole one in Colorado, though they believe t rex lived here. I suggested that another dinosaur may have eaten the t rex in like Utah or something, and then pooped the teeth out in Colorado. He said "but the t rex was the apex predator" and I was like "maybe they ate it after the t rex died". He made a face as though he had a headache, and then said "um, interesting theory".

He asked if we had any questions so I said "I would like to know how dinosaurs painted their toenails". The guy gave me a look and said "they didn't paint their toenails". Then Michael, who was holding a t rex toy model, held it up and said "yes they did! this t rex has red toenails". The guy took the model away from Michael and hid it behind a display.

"Any other questions?" he asked, glaring at me. I raised my hand, causing my niece and nephew to start giggling. I play a game with them all the time where I raise my hand and when one of them calls on me I ask a ridiculous question. The guy sighed and was like "go ahead, what's your question?".

He had just given my niece the horns of a triceratop to hold, and they were really heavy. So I said "how did dinosaurs used to kiss if they had all these horns and stuff on their heads?" I took a apatosaurus model and pretended it was trying to kiss the triceratops. I made the apatosaurus go "Ow, you poked my eye!" The guy took the models away from me and hid them with the t rex. Then he said "I don't think they used to kiss each other like people".

He suggested that we look at some other display, and excused himself. My niece and nephew said it was their favorite museum visit ever.

a short question about penises

I've wondered, for a long time, when guys' penises stop growing. I find it a bit odd that no guy I've talked to can ever answer this question. Joe suggested I ask the question on my blog.

actually, that wasn't what I was going to say...

I never tell a guy I love him first. I always wait until they say it, and then usually wait a while to say it back to them. I would never tell someone I loved them if I didn't.

But, sometimes I find myself in strange situations. Take, for instance, this guy that I dated a while ago. After I got divorced I didn't go on a date for two years. Then I met this guy at the gym and he bugged me until I went out with him. Our first date was kind of strange. When I met up with him for dinner the first thing he said to me is "I'll give you 20 IQ points for free". I was like what the fuck are you talking about? He assumed I guess, because I'm a woman, that I'm stupid. Even though he hadn't even graduated from high school and had a college "degree" from some unaccredited university in Colorado.

But, I was bored, and he seemed like he was really in to me, so I went on another date with him the next night, which was christmas eve. We went to the gym and then back to his apartment, where he made dinner. We were sitting on the sofa and he started talking about how he had been in love with this girl who died climbing. Then he started sort of crying. I wasn't sure what to do so I said that I was going to leave.

He didn't want me to leave, and, as fate would have it, it had just started snowing really hard. He suggested that we retire to his bedroom (the sofa was tres uncomfortable) to watch the snow from the huge window in there. So I sat down on the side of the bed and watched the snow while he excused himself to go to the bathroom. It was cold in his apartment so I put a blanket from the bed over my legs. He came out of the bathroom but I didn't turn around. Then he slid under the covers and pulled me under with him.

That's when I realized, I seriously am NOT making this up, that he was naked. Totally naked. I was like "Dude! What are you doing????" He thought he had made it obvious what "going to watch snow in the bedroom" meant. Apparently I missed the message.

As if things weren't already strange, he started making out with me. I hadn't made out with anyone for two years so I decided to play along for a while. But things weren't right. In fact, they were, shall we say, flaccid. I am not used to kissing a guy and not having his tackle poking me in the stomach. I wondered what the fuck was going on.

After about an hour of making out, I decided to ask him. Earlier in the evening he had made this dramatic declaration that we were going to be together forever and that I should be able to tell him everything and not keep secrets from him. It seemed like an ideal time to test his sincerity about that.

But, first I decided to go to the bathroom and compose myself. I splashed my face and then drank some water, trying to figure out the best way to phrase my question. I had decided that I kind of liked the guy, and I didn't want to screw up my second date in two years.

So I went back into the bedroom and crawled back into bed. The guy had propped himself up on some pillows while I was gone. I tried to put my head on his chest but he grabbed my shoulders so I couldn't hide my face.

He looked at me and he said "You. Are. A. Coward." I tried to look away but he wouldn't let me. Then he said "Since you won't say it, I'll say it first." Thank god, I thought. Now I don't have to ask what's wrong with his penis.

He said "I love you."

I was so shocked that nothing really came to mind to say. He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around me. He said "You don't have to say it back to me now. Because I know some day you'll say it." He kissed the top of my head and I started giggling uncontrollably. I tried to stop but I couldn't. Finally, realizing I was on the verge of laughing hysterically and not being able to stop, I told him I had to go home.

He said he would walk me to my car, and if there was more than an inch of snow on the pavement that I would have to stay. We got outside to discover that the wind had been blowing so hard no snow had accumulated on the pavement. He raised his hands up to the sky and yelled "Fuck you snow!" For some reason, I found that incredibly charming.

It was 3 in the morning by this point, and he insisted I talk to him on the phone the hour drive back to my apartment because he was worried about me. Then he told me he would come by to see me in the morning. We were having christmas dinner with my friends Eva and Dan, a dinner we called "three jews and you". I got to bed at 430 in the morning, and was awakened by him knocking on my door at 8 in the morning. I was like what are you doing here, and he told me he came as soon as it was morning because he missed me.

I'd never dated anyone who seemed so dedicated and who wanted to spend time with me. I got sucked in, especially because he would say things like "30 years from now we're going to do (whatever)". Every guy I had ever dated was incapable of making plans even a week in advance.

But, later everything went to shit. He dumped me by email and then married someone else 4 months after we broke up. I saw him twice after that. The first time he said to me "I'm pretty sure that when I said I loved you I meant it. But only at the time I said it." The second time I ran into him at a deli near my work, and he offered to buy me a salad, but he did it in an insulting way, as if buying my lunch was going to make up for him breaking my heart.

Guys. Fucking stupid.

the broken vase

Last night I had a dream that I was in a tv show. It was supposed to be a comedy. The first part of the show I had signed up to do a bouldering competition at my ex's gym, but it wasn't really his gym because it was outside and it was on this small jut of land that had cliffs on all three sides. But I couldn't climb because every time I touched the holds on the wall they would fracture into a million pieces. Everyone was yelling at me that I was ruining the competition. My ex told me I should have known I couldn't touch plastic since I had frost bite. So he grabbed me and threw me into this copper metal pipe and I was falling through the pipe not sure where I was going to land.

The pipe finally dropped me into a huge metal tub full of water. Drew Barrymore was there, and she told me she was going to be on the show with me. I told her I didn't know how to act and that I didn't watch TV and she said "look, I can blow bubble bath out of my mouth". She started blowing these weird iridescent bubbles out of her mouth. I was like "can we talk about the show please?" but she kept blowing bubbles and just giggling instead of talking.

Then I looked over and saw my friend Joe riding a unicycle on this metal railroad tie that was a fence to keep people from falling off the cliff. He was in a contest to juggle three green tennis balls while riding the unicycle on the narrow railroad tie. Also, they made him wear these glasses that were a swirl of white and black (like the cover of Vertigo) and every time he pedaled the swirls in the glasses would start turning. There were other people in the contest too but all of them fell off the cliff and died immediately. I could hear them scream when they fell off the tie and down the cliff. Joe was the only one who was able to ride the unicycle and juggle. Everyone was clapping and cheering, but I was yelling at him to take the glasses off and stop riding because he had won the contest. Then Joe fell over the cliff.

I was afraid he might have died so I ran over to my ex, who was reading a clipboard. I asked him to help me find my friend Joe but he ignored me. I got mad and started yelling at him. Then he looked up at me and I realized he was my co-author. He smiled at me and I saw that his teeth had grown together and he couldn't talk. I was scared so I ran away and found a producer for the show, and told him I wouldn't be on the show anymore if he kept changing people on me and killing my friends. So the producer told me to go to another set of the show, which was a house not on the cliff, but somewhere else.

In that house there was a couple from Jamaica. They had a vase made of black glass. The bottom of the vase was a black woman's head, and then there were all these pipes coming out of her head that went almost 6 feet up. Between the pipes were tied these off white china ovals, and each of the ovals had a face painted in water colors. They told me the faces were their relatives and the vase was sacred and had special powers.

There was a laugh track for a while because Drew Barrymore and the Jamaican man were joking back and forth, and then the Jamaican man accidentally bumped the vase and broke one of the pipes off. His wife got really mad and said that Drew Barrymore had to be punished for the vase. I said I thought it was unfair because her husband was the one who broke the vase, but she pulled out a huge knife and told me to shut up.

Then Drew said the woman could cut her hair off with the knife as punishment, and she leaned over and put her forehead on the table where the vase was, and pulled her hair forward so that her neck was completely exposed. The wife pulled back the table cloth on the table, and I saw that the table was actually a grave full of dirt. I realized the woman was going to kill Drew. And then I heard the producer whisper "you see, it isn't a comedy at all".

Then I woke up.

freedom to fall

In August of 2005, I had just moved into my house. I had spent 3 days, at the tail in of my last chemo treatment and defense of my thesis, running around trying to unpack and fix things because my dad was coming to visit me. I had gotten maybe 10 hours of sleep in those three days, and then had a party. I rolled into bed at 4 am, and had to get up at 8 am to pick my dad up at the airport.

I woke up before my alarm, and found a guy sitting on the edge of my bed. I was startled and asked who he was. He asked "you're a climber?" and I said yes. He said "I used to be a climber, but I died." Then, he was gone.

The dream was so vivid that I wrote it down, and that's when I started documenting my dreams. Anyway, 2 years later I had taken over as the president of my HOA and was talking to a woman who lives two doors down from me, Carol Hampson. I had only really known her as a neighbor, sharing only idle chit chat with her. I have a lot of climbing pictures up in my house, and she was asking me about them. She told me she was writing a book about her son, Chris Hampson, who died climbing in Yosemite in 2003. The book is called Freedom to Fall. I am sure that the guy sitting on the edge of my bed that morning was her son, and I was able to describe him to her even though I had never seen a picture of him. It created a sort of bond between us.

Today, we had an HOA meeting, and she brought me a copy of the finished book. We were looking through it and she was showing me some pictures taken by Jonny Copp. Jonny climbed with her son, and when Chris died Jonny and Carol had formed a close relationship. As we waited for the last person to show up at the meeting, she told me Jonny had died in China two weeks ago.

This is how small the climbing community is: a friend of mine, Mike Pennings, was good friends with Jonny. Though I didn't know him personally, I was shocked by his death. I wonder how Mike is doing. There is a fund for Jonny set up at adventurefilms.org.

It seemed appropriate this afternoon to start reading Carol's book, although in a way I was dreading it. It's never easy to talk about loss and death. Carol said to me today "You guys have friends die, and you just keep trucking. But there's a process you need to go through to grieve." I thought about friends I had lost not just climbing, or doing other sports, but also at work and in the war, and how I normally just try to forget about them rather than crying and being sad. The third chapter of Carol's book is about dealing with loss, and it's very raw emotionally, from journal entries and letters about her son's death.

I decided I couldn't read that chapter, so I just started randomly opening the book and reading. The first thing I opened to was a story about the first year after Chris' death, on his birthday. Carol had gone to J tree thinking she would climb because she felt she had to do something for his birthday. In the end she didn't climb, but watched two of Chris' friends climb. The passage moved me to tears:

"One twenty-eight. I am waiting for a sign. I yell up to Greg and Sarah, "In ten minutes Chris was born!" They say, "Oh." It is a tense moment on the wall. Sarah, a newcomer to climbing, is frightened. She can't find a hold. Greg is standing on the ledge above, encouraging her. They can't hear each other because of the overhang. I yell their messages back and forth, thinking Chris will help her up. She will step on the ledge at 1:38-that will be the sign!

The wind and cold are fierce. More yelling as Sarah lifts, descends, pulls, gropes, and hugs the immense, unyielding rock. I am mesmerized, waiting for the next words to shout. I'm part of the team. I glance at my watch. One forty-five. Sarah is not going up, not this time.

I meander a long sandy trail, then go back to the car and weep.

...Chris gave up his attachments for a higher truth. He loved all earthly things and being, and still he let go. That was the greatest achievement of his life."

Carol has self published the book. You can buy it, and read more about Carol, at www.morningsongpress.com. Her purpose for the book is not to make money, but to use it as a way to help people deal with loss. I think the book has a very important message, even for people who aren't climbers. She has been on a road trip, and will continue on her trip, to share Chris' story and to talk to people who are going through the same process she went through when she lost her son. I think what Carol is doing is amazing, and want to support her any way I can. I hope you will tell everyone you know about the book so they can check it out.