"Snowmagedon"...the sequel to December's wildly unpopular "Snowpocalypse"

And, here we go again. Because, you know, the twenty inches that we got in December, followed by the two other snow storms that we just got, clearly wasn't enough. Nope, we're always out to outdo ourselves. Bigger and better is the name of the game here in the nation's capitol. This time we closed the Federal Government, declared states of emergency, kept all the kids home from school, and canceled all the flights, and that was before it started snowing....and snowing...and snowing....

When all is said and done we could have almost thirty inches, making total snowfall so far this winter close to sixty inches, and winter's not even done yet. If only that damn groundhog hadn't seen his shadow.

The grocery stores look like a tornado has hit them. Not a single banana left on the shelf. No pasta. No franks and beans. The only thing worse than standing in lines, I imagine, is being the checker behind the counter ringing the carts. You're stalked in the parking lot for coveted parking spaces and shopping carts.

Home Depot sold out of shovels on Thursday (we checked).

Business closed at noon, which just moved rush hour up by five hours. No seats on the metro, no calm on the streets. And, everyone is just waiting, waiting, waiting, for more snow since we've seen since 1922 (or so the news says).

So, I'm sure we'll wake up tomorrow, hopefully with electricity in tact, to the blinding silence of a city blanketed in white. We'll enjoy it for a few hours. We might build a snow man, snap a few photos, catch a few flakes on our tongues. Then it will sink in...

Now we have to dig out.

when all else fails, just blog about the cat.

not feeling particularly blog inspired lately, but I do know some of you out there who did always enjoy the Oliver anecdotes, so here you go :)


Every morning Oliver wakes up, meanders out to the living room, eats, uses his box, and settles down in the same spot on the floor to stare up at the wall, as you can see evidence of in the photo to the left. What on earth is so intriguing about the wall? Well, I wondered the same thing the first time I noticed him doing this and thus found myself staring at both the cat and the wall...for half an hour. He just sat there, waiting. For, as it turns out...the sun. Yep, the cat stares at the wall, every morning, and waits patiently for sun to make it's way down to him. It's quite cute actually, especially when you consider that the poor thing hasn't yet figured out that he could have already been blissfully basking in the light if only he jumped up on the couch. Again, never claimed he was the smartest, but he sure is good for a laugh. And, right now as I type this, Oliver has decided to express his objections to my giving of attention to my computer, and not him. I had actually mistyped the previous sentence three different times because of the fact that I am now reaching around and over a cat that has settled right on top of my chest as I lay here on the couch, and is proceeding to lick my face. Oh, and did I mention that when he jumped up here he brought his ball of yarn with him. Again, not the smartest, but he sure does know how to get what he wants. And with that, I'm off to go play fetch with my cat...errr, i mean dog...oh no wait, he really is a cat...i think.

stop the presses! it's official...the world has ended because the office is out of fax toner!!

Lets just say that there was a toner "incident" at the office today. I call it an "incident" when what I really mean is "fiasco of ginormous proportions."

Please watch the following scene from one of my favorite episodes of Friends. It will properly prepare you for the silliness of this morning's office antics.



Ok, so hopefully you found that amusing. I had this scene running through my head the entire morning I spent dealing with what will forever be known (at least to me) as "The Day Without Toner."

I walked in this morning and the fax machine was blinking red. Red is never a good sign when it comes to office electronics. It either means that some minuscule shred of paper has lodged itself inside some well hidden yet crucial piece of machinery and caused a jam which will take you all day to un-jam, or it means that you are out of toner and hopefully are not wearing white because you will inevitably end up covered in black dust. It ended up being the latter.

Initially this was not a big deal, as this was an obstacle that I had foreseen back in April when I ordered a spare toner cartridge anticipating this exact scenario. Now, what did not occur to me at the time is that the wrong toner cartridge would be delivered, so that seven months later when I actually needed it, it would render itself full of toner, but absolutely useless to me.

Next up...break the news to the rest of the office. Considering the level of panic that ensued, one would have thought that I had said a tornado was headed straight for us. Now to their credit, a good portion of day to day business is conducted via this fax machine, so I do understand (kind of) the concern. However, I still saw this as a manageable problem. Just walk up the street to the local Staples and buy a toner cartridge, and get reimbursed for it.

Now that would have been a reasonably good plan, but I forgot that I live in a recurring episode of "The Office", so naturally there wasn't a single Staples or Office Depot in the Metro DC area that actually sold a compatible cartridge for our fax machine.

On to plan two, order some and have it shipped over night...oh wait, they can't ship it overnight. Awesome, the earliest it can be delivered is Thursday. That won't work.

Sit back, take a deep breath, tune out the rising levels of panic surrounding you in the office...think, think...Wait! Is it possible that there is another office that uses the same fax machine (unlikely, but worth looking into), and may actually have a spare cartridge??? Yes! Success, there is a spare toner cartridge waiting for us up at one of our sister offices.

I break the news, and you know what reaction I get? Now that the office realizes that toner is within sight the conversation turns to complaining about actually haveing to go get the toner. Well, if it's not important enough to go get it, then why the heck did you watch me spend an hour and a half trying to find it??? I think that tomorrow I'm going to get to the office early so that I can exact my revenge...perhaps I'll purposely jam the copy machine...

a little dose of christmas cheer from...

...non other than the President of the United States.

Tim surprised me yesterday with the possibility of a ticket to the National Christmas Tree Lighting. I guess that since the Park Police were working the event that tickets were available to their friends and family, so he got me one this morning. Thankfully, convincing my boss to let me leave work two hours early to attend wasn't difficult at all.

Here's Tim at work:

Now, what I didn't plan for was the weather. It was almost 60 degrees today, so it didn't occur to me that it would dip to 40 degrees once the sun set. Needless to say that earmuffs, and a heavier jacket, and maybe even some fleece socks would have certainly been nice. At one point I thought about tackling one of the volunteers that were walking around handing out hand warmers (apparently they were just for the important people). It was coooooold, and even now that I'm home, and comfy, I still don't think my toes have thawed.

Now to the seats. I had fantastic seats! I had a "white" ticket, which put me in the reserved seated section in the 12th row. Twelve rows back from the stage, directly in front of the box the president and his family were sitting in. How cool is that?

Randy Jackson hosted the evening, with performances by Jordan Sparks (of American Idol fame), Sheryl Crow, Ray Lamontagne, Common, Celtic Women, and some local school quires. The Marine Corps Band accompanied.

Here's a picture of Sheryl Crow:

Speaking of Ray Lamontagne, Tim and I really like his music and neither of us knew he would be there. Tim, however, had never actually seen what he looked like. Apparently while Tim was on duty, Ray was standing right next to him the whole time prior to performing and Tim didn't even realize it. In fact, he didn't realize who it was until they announced him and Ray walked up on stage. Needless to say, Tim's a little disappointed about not getting to say "Hey, Ray." I think that's kinda funny.

And lastly...here's the tree :)



***********
And in other non-news, for those of you missing your Oliver updates...here's proof that he's still doing nothing and getting lazier by the day :)

oregonians rock

Today was "team spirit" day at work, so we got to wear gear from our favorite sports teams to the office. Naturally I'm wearing my well worn Oregon Ducks shirt. Now, I've run into the following scenerio a few different times while out here on the east coast, but it wasn't until this morning that I realized what has been stricking me as odd about these encounters. I was walking out of the Metro, and a middleaged guy stopped me and exclaimed "Are you from Oregon?!" with a big grin on his face. I responded that yes, I was from Oregon. He went on to explain that anytime he sees something that indicates a person is from Oregon that he has to stop and say something since there are so few of us out here. And then he immediately launched into an explination as to exactly why he was out here in DC. The funny thing is that I did exactly the same thing.

I realized that what it came down to is that we both felt the need to explain and rationalize to eachother why on earth we ever left Oregon. Because, if it wasn't for a job or a relationship or something else of equal importance, why would anyone ever choose to leave? I thought the whole interaction was funny, and kind of refreshing....that Oregonians, even on the other side of the country, are still proud to be Oregonians.

my gym membership cost what??

It's been a little while since I've gone off on one of my rants, but it's also been a little while since I've felt energized enough to undertake the task. Tonight's agenda is much like most of DC's and the rest of the Nation's, as the President's speech to congress regarding health care was/is, in my opinion, justifiably the focus of the moment.

And though many of us have done our due diligence by voicing our opinions publicly, and giving the President an imaginary pat on the back for not putting off what has been put off for much too long, I still will argue that we aren't all asking the right questions. Tonight, we heard what the plan actually is and we heard what the plan is not. We got deserved slaps on our wrists for partisan bickering, and we got deserved pats on the back for compromise and an awareness of our shared "American character" . We were told that we shouldn't go broke because we get sick, and we were told that we shouldn't die because we can't afford health care. I don't disagree with any of this mission, but what I want to know is this: When did "health care" become more about fixing you when your sick than preventing you from actually getting that way?

I want to know why my gym membership isn't reimbursable through my health insurance. I know that I would go to the gym more if it was. How about you? We already have optional health flex spending accounts where we get reimbursed for buying toothpaste and pain killers, why not the gym?

I want to know why ALL medicine isn't considered "preventative." Why is an annual physical, yearly shots, and cancer screenings considered more important than trips to a nutritionist, and acupuncturist, or a psychiatrist. Yes, everyone needs to get their blood pressure checked, and no one should have to get the measles or the mumps, and certainly no one should end up with cancer if it can be avoided. But, does that make the other "specialties" any more or less legitimate in regard to preventative care? I would say that I consider mental stability and nutritional awareness to be as highly beneficial to healthful living as is knowing that my cholesterol is right where it should be and I'm up to date with my flu shots. But, how many of you actually have a nutritionist? I don't. And, it's a shame that these specialties are often considered desert, if you will; nice if you can afford it, but expendable if you can't.

There isn't any part of health care that should be considered expendable. And there isn't any part of the "American charecter" that should sit back and be OK with the fact that the practice of medicine and insuring it has become a reactionary indurstry.

We are continually reminded that we are a nation of doers. But we forget that we can just as easily fall in to complacency. I'm glad the President reminded us of this tonight, and I am equally hopeful that even though a plan has been presented, that we aren't done asking all the questions.

Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

So yes, I've been back for quite some time now, and have also been very very negligent of this blog and those of you who actually read it. Sorry.

Punta Cana was in one word: great. It was a short trip, but for me that was good. Our days were filled with laying by and swimming in the ocean in the mornings, then laying by and swimming in the pool in the afternoon, accompanied the entire time by free drinks. Completly relaxing, but any longer and we (read "I") would have needed to have found something else to do. I tend to like to be a bit more active in my vacations, but this amount of time in this place was just about perfect.

Here are some photos. enjoy :)

the curious case of the girl with the missing appendix

Yep. That's me. I'll start from the beginning.

I've always liked doctors, and doctors offices, and hospitals. I used to want to be a doctor, and if it hadn't been for the fact that I flat out failed my first term of college chemistry, and thus found that my brain is completely useless for all things scientific, I probably would have enjoyed being one. Having said that, my most recent experiences with those who have earned the distinguished MD title, has left me questioning my unwavering admiration.

I've also been (knock on wood) a generally healthy individual. I don't get sick and I don't get injured. What I do seem to get are tiny, annoying little ailments that, evidently, no doctor can properly diagnose. Most might equate that to a minor case of hypochondria on my part, and I'll admit that I kind of enjoy self diagnosing myself. Plus, I pay for my health insurance, so my take on it is that I had darned well better use it. On the other hand, I don't make these things up.

Episode one: My left eye. For years, and for no apparent reason - as I have no known allergies, it periodically turns a shocking shade of pink, hangs out that way for about four days and then returns to normal. Went to a couple eye doctors who couldn't figure it out. Finally was told that eye was slightly stronger then the other one, and since it had to work slightly harder to compensate for my weaker right eye it periodically got tired and turned red. Prognosis: Right eye's not weak enough to warrant corrective action, so just deal with it.

Episode two: My right leg. I'll admit this was totally my fault. I was running down an unimproved road, slipped in a pothole, twisted my leg, got up and kept on with the run. Ran on it for another two years. Naturally, big knot of scar tissue amassed in there. Went to a Sports Medicine doctor who looked at it. Prognosis: nothing he could do, in fact he implied that if I were to actually rip the muscle one of these days, that it would heal back better then normal, so just deal with it.

Episode three, and the whole reason for this blog: the random right sided stomach pain. Going on for about a year and a half. Not bad, just annoying and ever present. Went to Doctor One who gave me an ultrasound and couldn't figure it out and sent me to Doctor Two. Went to Doctor Two who gave me a CT scan and couldn't figure it out. Gave up for about a year and blamed it on the ineffectiveness of the Kaiser network. Moved to DC and got "real" insurance. Decided to see Doctor Three who suggested that I see Doctor Four who sent me to Doctor Five for some scans. Doctor Five took two hours of scans and the following conversation ensued:

Doctor Five: "you look fine, except that I can't find your appendix."
me: "you can't find my appendix?"
Dr. Five: "yeah, it didn't show up on any of your scans."
me: "huh, OK."
Dr. Five: "are you sure you still have an appendix?"
me: trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question "no, I'm not sure that I actually have one, but I am sure that one has never been removed."
Dr. Five: "OK, well Doctor Four will have your results tomorrow"

I go back to work and proceed to relate the story to the entire office, who all find it as amusing as I do.

I call my doctor, Doctor Four, today for the official results.

Doctor Four: "Well Nicole, all your results are fine. Nothing strange about your scans or your results, except that we couldn't find your appendix."
me: "that's what I hear." and then "Is it possible for someone to have been born without one?"
Doctor Four: "not really" and then..."Are you sure you still have an appendix?" *Apparently this is the million dollar question*.
me: again, stifling how astounded i am at the ridiculousness of this question, and starting to believe that I am actually the one acting strangely here "well, I know that no one has ever
taken one out."
Doctor Four: "hmmm....have you asked your mother to make sure?" *Is he serious??*
me: "is surgery something that people normally forget?"
Doctor Four: "No, I guess not."

I'm not exaggerating, those conversations are as verbatim as my memory will allow. Doctor Four's prognosis? That my appendix is playing hide and seek; has put up a gone fishing sign, if you will. That's basically the extent of it, and since it is probably somewhere it isn't supposed to be it's causing minor discomfort. And, since it doesn't appear to be in any jeopardy of exploding I should....wait for it...JUST DEAL WITH IT.

Just. Deal. With. It. This has been the prognosis for every doctor visit I've had over the last three years. I'm all done with reporting any minor ache, pain or issue that my apparently jaded mind thinks the doctors should be able to fix. I'm officially taking my overworked left eye, my bum leg, and my missing appendix to the Dominican Republic for a week, where we can all relax in ocean side comfort and contemplate the fact that doctors spend years and years and thousands of dollars obtaining a title that allows them to justifiably (and often unquestionably) advise patients to shut up and deal.

I hear them loud and clear.

it's kind of like how silence can sometimes have a sound

I'm pretty particular when it comes to criteria for what makes a "good" book, because, well, I read a lot of them. I'm not afraid to stop reading mid way through, or even ten pages in if it's not keeping my interest. I've been known to read, at times, five different books all at once. I'll even admit that one of the hardest things about moving across the country was the act of hauling 3/4 of my library to Powell's because I simply couldn't afford to ship it. That's how much I love books.

That's why I am so pleasantly surprised by the one I've just now finished. Part of my surprise comes from the fact that I didn't pick this book up expecting it to be that good. I'm kind of ashamed actually of how discriminating I can be at times of what I consider "popular" fiction, or in other words, lit. that I assume exists more to turn a profit then tell a decent story. I've called them "airport gift shop books" before. This was exacerbated by the fact that this story is being turned into a movie, which both lessened my opinion of it even before I cracked the spine, and made me unavoidably drawn to the need to read it before the movie comes out (as I surely would never read it after). Plus, I've been in a rut lately in regard to finding a "good" book, so I figured what the hell, I'd give it a go.

So, I'd built it up to be a dud.

That being said, it's also really hard to surprise me when it comes to a story. I've gotten pretty good at recognizing the early indications of a twist; the clues the author will leave along the way. They're little trailblazers left in the form of a conversation not had, or a character not heard from, or a word not spoken, and if all goes as planned, the reader doesn't recognize that any of this was there (or missing) until the end when they turn around and try to retrace their steps. In my opinion, the really really good books are the ones I don't pick up the trail on. As I said earlier, I built this one up to be a disappointment, and as I read, even though it was well written, and the characters where sympathetic, and I even liked reading it, I ultimately figured I'd be right. I had predicted the big twist by the third chapter, and when I got to the point where it all actually happened, I got all smug and gave myself an imaginary pat on the back for being so ingeniously intuitive.

And then, just as a truly "good" book should, it knocked me over sideways and schooled me in my snobbishness. There was a second twist...more like a twister, wrecking everything the preceding four hundred pages had built, and left me with my mouth hung open, a tear in my eye, and the need to run to my computer and blog about it. I certainly didn't see that coming, and it was tragic, and awful, and so wonderfully perfect for the story that I am truly shocked (and thrilled) that I didn't see it coming. I did exactly what was expected of me. I read the last sentence, briefly closed the book, re-opened it moments later and retraced my steps back to the very first page, where I found exactly what I thought I would: that the answer had been there all along.

I can't say it's cracked the top ten list of all time favorite books, but it does deserve honorable mention for not committing the one crime that, in my opinion, most conventional popular fiction is guilty of. This author writes for the masses, tells stories that anyone can find a way to relate to, makes a lot of profit for it, and at the same time doesn't water anything down. She still assumes that her readers are actually, dare I say it...*intelligent.* So to that end, I tip my hat to her as I waive the white flag. I surrender the torch, and any other over used metaphor you can think of to illustrate that I am now taking my previously smug self, with my tail between my legs, off to bed where I can quietly contemplate how next I can find myself surprised by a book I've already judged by it's cover.

:)

---------------
Note: I'm not going to give you the title of the book I just blogged about because I really don't want to ruin it for any of you who might still want to read it. And I promise, it's not "Angels & Demons," sorry.
-----------------

more random thoughts

I read a lot of different blogs and sometimes I think blogs should come with the same kind of warning labels as cigarettes or prescription drugs...you know, something like "reading this may induce coma, intense bordom, or the need to reach through the screen and ring the writers neck. Please consult a professional before beginning.." Or, for the good ones: "may cause you to become addicted." Anyway, have been missing the blog, so here's the latest updates:

* A good friend of mine and his wife had a baby a couple days ago! (Congrats guys, he's adorable). To everyone else, I'm sure you'll be less then surprised to find that I am again, behind in my knitting commitments. You'd think that with nine months to plan, that I could manage two tiny booties in time. Though, history does seem to repeat itself, so I should have known better then to assume I'd manage a timely finish. But, they're coming soon, I promise!

* Today is another friend's birthday!!! Happy Birthday Kirsten! I owe her a drink since it's Tuesday and none of us can properly celebrate mid week. Though, perhaps the simple fact that it's Tuesday and not closer to the weekend is more then enough reason to go get a drink...hmmm, I'll have to think about that.

* For anyone missing the Oliver stories, here's another litterbox tale. Skip it if you don't want to read about my cat's litter habits...His box is located in the kitchen. Yuck! you may be thinking (and you'd be right), but I've found that the only way to guarantee that he remembers to actually use the litter box is to give him a reminder every time he walks past his food that he should stop and go. And, if you know Oliver at all you would know that he spends a considerable amount of time lounging with his head in his food bowl, so this plan pretty much guarantees an accident free environment for us. Well, accident free until the other day, that is....I walked into the kitchen the other day and what do I find? A giant puddle of cat pee right outside the box. Now, Tim's reaction is to assume that the cat was just too lazy to actually get in the box, but at this point I still wasn't convinced it was that simple. I do a bit of detective work. I notice that there are three little imprints in the litter from his legs and a longer imprint from his gimpy elbow dragging in the sand. So I'm convinced he did actually get in the box. Apparently he just managed to miss-aim and rather than doing his business like a good little cat should, he hit the power button and peed a good two inches outside of the box. Good job Oliver...Good job. Oh, and as I write this it appears that he's trying to climb the glass living room window. I never claimed he was the brightest star in the sky.

* I do genuenly enjoy living in an area where the chance to see the President isn't that out of the ordinary. I've seen him in person once, and in his motorcade twice now. But, I can tell you how incredibly tired I am of all the motorcade street closures. When block after block is shut down during the lunch hour, and all you're trying to do is get a cup of coffee before you have to go back to the office, figuring out how to meander your way through baracades withough getting yelled at by DC police is kind of taxing on your normally well maintained composure. Though, I guess I do get good exercise walking so far out of the way to get around them...

* We've had the strangest weather lately! Most of last week it was in the nineties and I had thought we had skipped Spring entirely and had jumped right to Summer (which was quite disapointing to me as I don't enjoy that kind of extreme heat), but this week we're right back to Spring. And, when they talk about "Spring Showers" what I'm sure they really meant is "Spring downpours." It's been the kind of rain where you're pants are soaked up to your knees even with an umbrella. I LOVE IT. It totally reminds me of what I had been missing from Portland. Yep, still got some Northwest in me (thank God!).

Anyway, I could probably write more randomness, but I see that it is currently waaaay past my bettime. Sigh...Wednesday here I come.