Neighbors (again)

Let's see -- the young black woman hasn't been seen in several weeks, but the young Asian looking woman has evidently taken up residence.

A month or so ago an older white woman was visiting or staying there, and there was a big metal milk crate full of gray puppies, all squeezed in there together. It was hot, and they had no water or food -- just sitting out in the front yard, yelping like puppies do.

A couple of times I've seen the Asian woman with one or two of the puppies (now nearly grown, though I don't know the breed) out in the side yard. When we make eye contact I always smile, but we rarely make eye contact. In fact, it seems to me she gathers up the dog(s) and puts them inside when she sees me, but that could be my imagination.

The dog, Champ, who gets loose all the time is generally kept in the house, and barks a lot when he's in the backyard.

When I got home from work the copper colored truck had all its doors opened. There were two toddlers in the back seat and the man who lives there had one of the gray dogs, but I didn't stop to see if he took it in or put it in the truck. He closed the back doors, climbed into the driver's seat, and the Asian woman locked the front door and got in the passenger side of the truck. And off they went.

I don't know if they're breeding dogs or what. And I don't much care.

Work was fine until the Evil Committee -- I've made it clear to my supervisor that I want a transfer. She's promised to help, if anything comes up on the job sheet. I'm also requesting a job reclassification in order to get some more money; if I have to put up with certain people on a regular basis and can't get transferred, I deserve a hell of a lot more money than I'm getting now.

This weekend I added my name to Google Alerts, just in case someone out there is using my name in vain. I have a name that is not very popular or common, so I've only gotten three or four alerts -- all obituaries.

Charli and Sugar Franklin are having snits now. I had them both out for awhile until the pizza arrived. So I put them back so they could have some crust with me. Now, neither one wants to come out and let me scritch their head. Even the Bobbsey Twins are ignoring me.

Charli is due for her annual well-bird exam next Tuesday.

Wonder if my babies have forgiven me yet . . . .

Update: Little Flash just flew over to me from his cage, unbidden. I picked him up and gave him my daily little kiss and thanked him for coming over and cheering me up. I'm a lucky girl.

Thursday Blues

Between dying cockatiels and the black hole of despair at work I'm starting to get depressed.

Luckily, coming home and scritching birds helps lower my blood pressure. I was thinking perhaps I should go down to the crossroads at midnight, like Robert Johnson, and sell my soul to the devil. But what would I ask for since he's already got the lock on the blues?

I watched Charlie Gibson's interview with Sarah Palin on ABC News tonight. She had the audacity to twist Lincoln's words to explain her statement that the war was a "task from God" in her church. Lincoln must be turning in his grave. When asked what she thought of Bush's doctrine, she stopped dead and then, recalling her obvious coaching, said, "What aspect of it?" Translation: She had no clue what he was talking about.

God help us, every one.

Neighbors

The copper-colored truck and the red car have been gone for several days now. This morning there was a dark maroon sedan with in-state plates in the driveway.

On second thought, I probably don't want to know what's going on over there.

Got an appointment to get little Nicholas' toenails cut tomorrow; his front nails always grow so long and so fast. The vet and I can't figure it out. Of course, the appointment just happens to be at the same time as the rescheduled Evil Committee meeting. Oh dear me . . .

Aftermath

The "employee satisfaction" survey was, of course, a joke. The interviewer said it came as a directive from the big dude, then tried to change it to saying it came from the semi-big dude. Either way, it was a waste of time. The interviewer said they understood that happy employees produced more and better work. She kept her face as hard as a mask through the whole thing. I told her I'd been trying to transfer for 13 friggin' years and she just looked at me, as if I was exaggerating. She knows as well as I do that the entire HR system is set up against employees, not for them.

B and I think it might be an excuse for a reorganization. Or, my personal favorite, making everyone apply for their current jobs and then finding out they're "not qualified."

Thank god I'm a union member in good standing. Just in case.

O hurt her back so between my trip and her back I haven't had a piano lesson in four weeks. This is okay with me since I haven't practiced in four weeks. She even left chorus practice early last night.

Got a note from Avian Publications last night. He said because of the economy he's holding off on publishing the brown-head book until next year. Damn it.

The birds were all frantically chirping this morning when I left for work, and they went crazy when I got home from chorus practice last night. Maybe they think I'm going away again, even though I told them I couldn't afford to go anywhere except to work and rehearsals.

Monday's Survey Interview

Had a nice quiet uneventful weekend. Friday my physical therapist worked my arm mostly to death, but it's feeling better and I'm doing more of the right things so it will continue to feel better.

Saturday R and I went to see Bottle Shock, which was excellent. I sort of intended to see Gonzo on Sunday but I was too lazy to go out. So I stayed home and played with the birds all day. Or rather, let them out so they could play on their own. I did go over my poetry manuscript and changed a few things, but not as much as I feared I'd have to do. I can let it go today if I needed to, so I feel pretty good about that.

Charli wasn't very perky yesterday and took a lot of naps -- which isn't like her, so I'm going to keep an eye on her. She even refused orange juice, which she loves.

I chatted with B a little bit about this new "interview with HR person" thing at work. Some level of management is having a poor innocent soul from HR interview all of us in this department to see how things are. My "survey interview" is this afternoon, and the more I think about it the madder I get. By the time I got to work this morning I was furious, and I imagine my blood pressure was sky high. I fully intend to speak my mind about the crap that goes on around here: how only a select few get big raises in the middle of the year, how certain managers are incompetent, how I and some others feel it's a waste of time to talk to any of the managers or administrators (based on past experience), the blatant favoritism that goes on around here, etc. ad nauseum. It's supposed to be confidential, but I don't believe that mine will be. My job is too different from the others to blend in with everyone else's. And if it's noted that I seem to have a "bad attitude," well, I've certainly earned it.

But in my heart I know none of this will do any good. I've worked here for 24 years and endured all manner of interviews and surveys and questionnaires -- and nothing ever changes. I can tell by her voice that the HR person I'm meeting is young and is most likely new to the place -- she probably believes what she's doing makes a difference. I don't want to be the one to disillusion her -- somebody else will do that soon enough.

The Law

Spent over half an hour on hold yesterday trying to speak to an IRS agent, to find out why I haven't received my incentive check. I'm so not looking forward to calling again.

Got a summons today for jury duty. I don't mind jury duty that much; I really do think it's my responsibility as a citizen. Old-fashioned, I know.

And, of course, spent nearly half an hour on the phone with GoDaddy this morning. Perhaps I should just move there.

The Evil Committee began its down-hill slide yesterday; some things got done incorrectly and there was confusion so we left early. I haven't figured out a way to smuggle whiskey into the meeting room, though. Which is probably for the best.

Sugar Franklin was perkier than usual yesterday, running back and forth in her cage until I brought her out where she proceeded to run back and forth on the coffee table and on me.

I love the way parrots (and I guess other pets) just assume possession of a human's body. Charli will move from the back of the couch by hopping onto my shoulder (without asking, of course) and then scoot herself to my chest so that she's in perfect position to be scritched and then to take a nap. Like I was put on earth to meet her needs and wishes, and that I wouldn't dare move lest I inconvenience her. My parrots have claimed my shoulders, my back, my knees, my chest, and my lap, and sometimes my feet -- though my feet are loudly proclaimed by Sugar Franklin to be Evil and in dire need of hissing at.

What I wouldn't give to know what they think.

My Poetry Manuscript

C and I ran a small literary press back in the early 90s, and he has since gone on to run his own publishing company. So when I ran into him at the Book Fair three years ago, I said, "Well, you've published everybody else we know. When are you going to publish me?"

He told me to send him my manuscript, which I did. And never heard from him again. His company publishes a lot of literature and local interest stuff, and C's made a good name for himself and his press.

I was talking to JBH a month or so ago about sending my manuscript to a Louisville press and I mentioned C. JBH told me to keep after C, even after three years of silence. So I did.

And . . .

I just heard from C; he said he does want to publish my poetry manuscript but that it wouldn't be until late next year. The press is booked (so to speak) that far ahead. (And no, he wouldn't publish me just because we're friends or if he didn't think he could make money from it.)

Yea!!!

Of course, I was planning to send my manuscript to the Louisville press during their submission period but now I'll have to see if C accepts simultaneous submissions.

C said to go ahead and tinker with the poems since poets are always tinkering with their poems (this is true; poems are never finished, they're just abandoned).

Double yea!

My book about brown-headed parrots is still with the publisher; he wrote me a few weeks ago to send him some more pictures for the cover and back, so I asked the folks on the brown-head parrot list to contribute. And did they ever! Three people sent in almost a hundred pictures, which I forwarded on so the publisher can choose.

I wore one of my nice suits to work today, just in case I do have to give a disposition.

Piano Woman

Tonight is my weekly piano lesson. My teacher is a young woman from Russia who has X-number of degrees in musicology and is also the pianist for the women's chorus I'm in. When she fusses at me her accent is so thick I usually can't tell what she's saying. But she's a good teacher and good person and a great musician and I think she's great.

She won't be pleased tonight. She gave me three pieces to do, one of which is "difficult" at my level, and I haven't been able to do it. The notes are all weird -- like playing middle C with the left hand instead of the right. But she'll explain it and I'll learn it and it might even make sense.

Or not.

I got my committee assignment today for the upcoming Staff Senate: Staff Issues, which is a bummer since most of the people on that committee and the chair don't believe there are any staff issues.

Monday, Monday

I took off Thursday so naturally I had to pay for it today. I walk into my office and there are 9 pieces of work that had been faxed to me (four of which have already been taken care of and are duplicates but no one knows why they were resent to me, and three of them were filled with scrawls no one is able to decipher), a stack of mail, about 30 e-mails, and a subpoena for some documents.

Got the subpoena dealt with, then slogged through the rest of it. Then it was time for The Retreat.

I work for a hospital, shuffling papers for administration. I do not come within five miles of a patient and maybe talk to a physician once every other month or so. My office is three miles off-site. I deal in language; I do not comprehend data collection and core measures and quality indicators and percentages and so on that goes on in any medical organization. So naturally, The Retreat was all about quality indicators and core measures and how we're all a "team." There have been some reorganizations (surprise; they only reorganize once a year), so we got to see the new "organ" charts so we would know who is most important this week. My favorite part was one of the administrators saying how important it is to motivate and appreciate staff. Right.

Mr. Perky (not his real name, of course) was there. I call him Mr. Perky because he's always upbeat and happy and full of positive thinking. He's one of the lower level administrators and since he makes over $100,000 a year I guess he's got a right to be perky. I bet he feels appreciated and motivated.

They encouraged us to voice our concerns and ask questions, so several people mentioned that we need more staff and more cooperation from the clinical folks. Don't worry, said the administrators, we're going to take care of it. Interpretation: We will continue to need more staff and cooperation from the clinical folks (who also need more help).

The Retreat was supposed to be over at 5, but of course the administrators kept talking until 5:20, at which point I just got up and left with a couple of other folks. There was absolutely no reason for me to be there. None. But I can't say so lest people think I have a "bad" attitude. $100,000 a year would help my attitude a whole lot.

I had to stop at Wal-Mart where they didn't have the frame I was looking for, so I got dinner to go from Subway. My parrots like the bread and lettuce and cheese (in teeny tiny amounts) from Subway. It's Monday, which means House is on so all is not lost!

Hmmm . . . wonder what House would have done in today's retreat . . . .