Oh the things you'll see.........

My work site is at about 4200 feet in the mountains, surrounded by farmland and small ranches; some passed down through many generations as evidenced by an old family cemetery tucked away in a hidden corner just off State property. 

The mountainsides are covered with forests of ancient, gnarled scrub oaks and tall pine trees that reach for our clear blue skies.  Our firing range is bordered by craggy rock hills, covered with sage and tall, wind-whipped grasses which must hide a variety of local wildlife that  probably pay no mind to the humans shooting at paper silhouettes, several days a month.  If it gets too noisy, there's plenty of other similar areas to settle in comfortably on the property.  We won't bother them, and they know it, because we've got some serious work to do. 

Our job is to keep the bad-guy clientel inside the safe confines of the fences, with armed towers and electrified perimeters that no one has dared tried to scale.  While the job is often interesting, it's equally  negative and not the type of job that gives you a great deal of personal gratification.  So we find our simple pleasures when we can get them; a well-executed drug bust, finding weapons before they end up stuck in someone's ribs, saving a life by being first on the scene in an emergency, sometimes it's just being a positive, professional role model.  

When it comes to animals, even the biggest tough guy convict can be reduced to a quivering mass of jello. While not policy, nor condoned by management, many feral cats have been lovingly tamed and cared for by our local felons.  With staff assistance they've managed to find adoptive homes for countless kittens and helped end the cycle of reproduction by assisting us in trapping the unruly ferals so we can get them spayed and neutered before returning them to their happy home.  The tame adult cats are simply placed in cat carriers and staff haul them off to be sterilized and returned to their happy "owners."  

I am happy to say that there are no more kittens awaiting adoption in my facility.  

(This entry wasn't meant to be about the kittens, but it turned out that way.  I really intended to write about the fact that I saw a Bobcat on grounds yesterday.  What an amazing sight!)  More later.    

Ahhhh Memories!

Tomorrow is my 52nd birthday. 

I think I still look pretty good for my age.  Most people can't believe it when I tell them how old I am, so I must be doing something right.  But, admittedly, I am going into this aging process kickin' and screamin', fighting every step....like Mike Tyson. 

However, I can't help but get a little melancholy about the old days, when I could turn some heads, since now when someone's turned their head around me, it's usually to sneeze.  So, tonight, while perusing my favorite journals, I came upon this entry by Wendy about how she really offended a Spanish-speaking woman when she tried to communicate with her by using her limited foreign language skills. 

It brought back memories of about 20 years ago, when I was a cheery, pretty, skinny, young professional woman .....................

Me:  "Helllloooo"

Caller:  "May I speak to Chi-Chi Naglas?"

Me:  "I am sorry, you must have the wrong number!"

Caller:  "This is not Chi-Chi Naglas?"

Me:  "No, there's nobody here by that name."

Caller:  "Okay.  Goodbye"

I figured that Chi-Chi Naglas must have had my telephone number before I got it because over a two year period, or so, I'd receive calls for Chi-Chi.  Every time I'd patiently tell the caller that once again he had the wrong number.

Then one day, I heard my Lieutenant speaking in Spanish to someone, and my ears perked up when I heard the word "Naglas."  After his conversation ended and we were alone, I said, "Robert, what does 'Naglas' mean in English?"

Embarrassed he replied, "Ass."

I then told him the story of how for years, I had someone telephoning me at home, asking for "Chi-Chi Naglas" and how I'd politely tell them that they had the wrong number!

Robert about died laughing.  He looked at me with a huge toothy grin and said........

"Lisa!  Don't you know what he was saying?  He was asking for 'Tits and Ass!' "

What this fat-assed, middle aged White woman wouldn't give for a call like that now!

 

 

What life delivers!

Today, we celebrated Phil's upcoming retirement after 22 years of faithful State service, with a potluck.  Well, I should say...some of us honored Phil by continuing with our plans, even though he couldn't be there with us.  

There was one whole department, in fact the department that had promised at least 20 different food dishes for the event,  who decided we were "tacky" by continuing with the "celebration" when Phil was laying in a hospital bed after suffering a stroke on Tuesday morning. 

After we learned of Phil's stroke, the planners...those closest to Phil, discussed the situation and decided that if Phil couldn't come to the party, we'd take the party to him, via video-tape.  He had a long road to recovery and certainly wouldn't be in any shape to attend a party again any time in the near future.  We felt that if the potluck went on as planned and we could video-tape our messages of love and encouragement, it would help him in his recovery so he could enjoy the retirement that he'd worked for so long!  So, we continued as planned. 

Phil's condition worsened.  He suffered a major stroke yesterday afternoon.  It didn't look good.  That made us more determined to ensure that Phil knew how much we loved him, and how he touched our lives while we worked together so closely over the years.  Nothing was going to change our minds about video-taping our tribute to this man, and we felt it was a very loving and special thing to do.

However, a lot of people didn't think the way we did and they refused to participate.    

They were offended and in "an uproar!" according to some sources.  They weren't coming and they were not contributing their food items as promised. 

They telephoned my secretary repeatedly through the day with snide comments about what we were doing.  She and I were stunned at their response to something that we; his closest co-workers, thought would be a blessing to him and his family at this difficult time.  

Then we received more bad news.  Phil was on life-support and not expected to live. 

We shed tears as we continued with our plans to honor this wonderful man.

We didn't have much food, but we had enough for those in attendance.  Our serving area was decorated with colorful tablecloths, bright blue paper plates with matching napkins, and helium filled balloons, which surrounded an 8x10 framed photo of a young uniformed Phil, all those years ago.  We signed a Get Well Soon card and a Congrats on Your Retirement card! 

The Master of Ceremonies scanned the food and serving area with fun commentary!  Like a roving reporter, he asked those in attendance for favorite memories of Phil.  We all stepped forward for our turn to share our love for the man who couldn't attend.  We joined hands and prayed for Phil's recovery and thanked God for the time we shared with him on the job.  The MC filmed that as well. 

Then we headed down the mountain, to the hospital where Phil lay in the Intensive Care Unit.  His devastated wife and their son shared that Phil was able to communicate with them yesterday by nodding yes and no to various questions after his first stroke.  By yesterday afternoon, he'd suffered a massive stroke and was hemorrhaging.  A risky new medicine was administered and it wasn't effective.  His brain was swelling.  One nurse said Phil's stroke was the worst he'd ever seen in his career.   The family decided they would wait a day or two to see if there was a miracle, before disconnecting the life support.  Phil wouldn't want to be in that state, said his wife.

Two by two we were allowed to "visit" with Phil.  I held his arm and told him that I loved him and how grateful I was to have him in my life.  I told him how much I depended on him at work, and what a great work ethic he displayed.  How his quiet and calm nature was always such a pleasure and how I'd miss his wry sense of humor!  

When it was time to leave, I told his wife about how our party went today.  I told her about the video-tape and she was thrilled.  She said that Phil would have wanted his party to go on without him, and that she and her family would treasure that video-tape for the rest of their lives.  

I feel in my heart, we did the right thing.  I can't understand the attitudes of the others. 

When things are done in the spirit of love and honor, it can't be wrong.  

 

 

 

 

Cuts like a knife

The boarding school child, home for the holiday, and her "overly-positive", yet "demanding" mother are butting heads.

Ok, so in my child rearing efforts, I have tried to teach my kids that there are more appropriate ways to deal with their anger than to yell across a crowded mall, "I HATE YOU! YOU EFFFFFFINNNN BIOTCHES!" to a couple of teenage bullies that have "tried to ruin" her life.

But a kid can only take so much of being called and referred to by the horribly derogatory terms and names that can deeply cut a fragile soul.  Add in the techno ability to post such things on the internet at a popular "My Space" site, and the lightening quick aspect of the email and you can torture a young woman who doesn't even attend school with you anymore.

High tech harassment.

Bullying at a much more sophisticated level.

Right or wrong, hopefully, spewing pent up emotions at her tormentors released the anger that she'd turned inward, causing her to inflict visible injuries on her beautiful body.

If only they could see the cuts bleed.

As Jesus said, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."   

Finally!!!!

Finally! 

I am now able to post!  Geez! 

I can't tell you how many times I had to delete cookies, footprints and temporary internet files to fix this problem! 

I will post something a little later after I calm down, because right now all I want to do is cuss AOL, Bank of America, Netflix, etc.

 

This is only a test!

This is only a test!  If this were a real journal entry, it may say something with substance and have no damn banner ads!

I am sooooo frustrated. I have cleared my "cache!"

I have deleted my cookies!

I have deleted my temporary internet files! 

I have erased my footprints!

And.....I STILL CAN NOT POST TO MY JOURNAL, except through AIM.

I do not want to post to my journal through AIM. I want my journal to work exactly how it did before AOL screwed it up with banner ads!

Arrrrrrgggghhhhh!!

Ok...So I cut my nose off to spite my face and abandoned AOL J-Land without the expertise to manage the technical aspects of Blogger.

I can't stand it. I have to be able to post my thoughts without the frustration of plundering my way through a new system that doesn't promptly post my words. Arrrrrggggghh.. Therefore, AOL...I humbly bow my head, with my tail between my legs and return to my beloved J-Land, to resume my writing....ADS and ALL!

But....that doesn't mean that I have to like it!

Moving my words.........

Please visit me at http://wearinmyheart.blogspot.com/

 

Here's what the Washington Post says about this banner ad issue that's causing AOL bloggers to find homes elsewhere:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/11/22/AR2005112201648.html

Save the excuses. Just pee in the bottle!

On Monday morning, I was sitting at my cluttered desk doing whatever managers in State service do whenever they are not in the ubiquitous “meetings” of the unlike minds, when I received a call from the Employee Relations Office.

The cheery secretary said, “Captain, would you please come up to the office when you get a minute?”

Being the “glass is half empty” kind of person that I am, I immediately began thinking the worst. A call to the ERO’s office can only mean one of a few things, such as; a grievance has been filed against you, a subpoena with your name on it is about to be placed in your hands, you’re about to be walked off grounds and be placed on Administrative Time Off pending the completion of an investigation or ::gasp:: terminated for some transgression.

Swallowing the huge lump in my throat, I went for the latter, jokingly saying “You’re not going to fire me, are ya?”

“No!” she replied with a touch of laughter, “Just come on up here when you have a chance!”

Deciding that I couldn’t take the stress of anticipating what this summons was all about, I promptly bounded up the stairs and stiffly presented myself as requested. The secretary handed me a pen and said, “You have been randomly selected for Drug and Alcohol Testing! Read this and sign here.”

“Oh thhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaattttt!” I said, relieved.

Bring it on.

But all of a sudden, I began to feel conspicuous, even somewhat guilty.

Good God, I thought. I had a glass of Plum Wine last night. Alone. Purely for medicinal purposes I might add. I needed to relax my aching back.

I felt horribly compelled to share that information with the secretary, sorta like throwing myself upon the mercy of the court…… Honest, it was only one glass. No, I don’t have an alcohol problem!

Fortunately I came to my senses and I decided against spilling my guilty guts to this young office assistant. Nothing is sacred around that place. I can just hear the gossip now!

Instead, I’ll just wait for the test results! Lord…. it’s enough to drive a person to drink.

Thank God I didn’t take that prescription muscle relaxer that Tam offered me! J