Radiogurl a la Carte

Monday, Nov. 15, 2004
Age of Sagittarius

Good grief... My entries have been mighty sparse lately. I sincerely hope I'm over the flu bug, or whatever it is. I don't have the time to be sick, aside from everything else that comes with the territory.

Given the fact that the flu did a number on my brain, along with the rest of my system, for the past week and a half or so, I didn't attempt much by way of writing. It would've been an exercise in futility to do so. Instead, I went back to playing with my graphics program, learning some neat, if relatively mindless, new tricks with the system. I never could get a very effective glass effect before - I finally got the process down reasonably well. Ditto a perspective shadow. (The latter only took me what...? Two years? Yeah, I'm an real intellectual giant, yeesh!)

Much as I adore my granddaughter, I was happy to see her go to spend the week with her daddy. There's a reason your children grow up and move out, and why women of a certain age generally don't have babies any more. Yeah, I know there are women who have babies into their fifties. Much as I love my children and my grandchildren, I think that's nuts. I'm waiting to hear the murder stories in about fifteen years when those precious babies are rebellious teenagers and mom and pop are in their sixties and seventies. And that doesn't count the diapers, 2am feedings, terrible twos, potty training, crayon-on-the-walls, and all of the other steps along the way.

There's another factor, too. I don't think it's fair to children to be born to parents of that age. Let's face it... While overall we live longer these days, there's a very good chance that a lot of these kids will not have parents into their early twenties. I don't know about you, but even as much as I didn't get along with my parents, there were simply times I needed help when I was in that age range.

Some could be orphaned before they graduate from high school, or be forced to care for octogenarian paters when they're still in school.

Random change of subject...

I talked to a friend here in town and looks like I'll be working on her computer this weekend. She tried to describe to me what it was doing, but I lost her. I will take along all my diagnostic goodies, anti-spam and antivirus programs, and a sense of humor.

This woman is a trip and a half. She runs the local feed and tack store (for city slickers, that's countrified language for farm-animal food, saddles, and the like.) She's a little tiny thing and can haul a couple of 50-lb feed sacks on her shoulders. She rides and cares for horses and tells it like it is, whether you want to hear it or not!

There are real working ranches in this part of the country. Cowboys and cowgirls are the real McCoy, not someone in a $1500 suit and an imitation Stetson.

Come to think of it - that was one of the funnier moments when my friend was here visiting from Quebec. I think he was floored when we went to the grocery store and one of the ranchers was fussing about the beef in the refrigerated area. I don't remember what the comment was, but I remember the look on said friend's face. There were definite overtones of, "Oh my god... there really are people who look, talk, and walk like that???" Until then, his only experience with cowboys was Hollywood productions, and his only experience with Americans was people he met online. Considering that his first trip to the U.S. was Arizona in the dead of winter, I think it's safe to say that it was quite an experience. He came from living on the edge of a lake, leaving -40C (which is also, coincidentally, approximately -40F), to Phoenix in January. He walked out of the airport in a tee shirt and jeans, his eyes big as saucers, asking me, "This is January, isn't it???"

Add to that a hike to Indian cliff dwellings, some close encounters with cacti (none painful, just some photos leaned against a saguaro,) karaoke with my kids (he's their age), a visit to a ghost town, the opportunity to drive around in (and get lost in) Phoenix, and the chance to poke fun of someone who's lived in the desert for so long that I honestly had to ask during one late-night drive if that was snow on the road, and I think he had a pretty memorable trip.

Yes, we do get snow here from time to time, but it had been something like 15 years since I'd seen it on the highway at night. Sometimes dirt in the road can mimic the look of a thin layer of snow down the middle of the highway. In this case, however, it was in fact snow.

Boss talked to me briefly this afternoon about the situation with his health. He said he talked to a friend who described the same symptoms with his throat that Boss has, and they ended up finding cancer of the larnyx. While I certainly hope that's not the situation here, it was a necessary evil for Boss to acknowledge that several months down the line, it's not just a bout of laryngitis that's hit him. I'm not sure exactly when, but he's going in for a biopsy in the relatively near future. I guess we'll see what happens from there.

It's going to be a monumental challenge if 00 gets one of the other jobs she's applying for. She can't deal with Boss any more and I really can't blame her, but I'm not at all sure how I'll manage if Boss goes into the hospital and 00 is gone and I have the lovely joy of running the place entirely by myself. It's doable, but man... I sure don't want to think about it, especially not if it's around the holidays. Our schedule goes crazy around Christmas. Everyone advertises, which is understandable and good for the studio financially; but it's absolutely insane to handle all of the programming and advertising and all of the other operations, too, if I have to do it alone.

Rats. It's past midnight again. I really should turn in and get some sleep. I've got a meeting to cover tomorrow, and then come Wednesday I need to get back into the groove and handle our system maintenance and whatnot.

Before - After

In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )