Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey

If you aren't a fan of Doctor Who, then you can skip this post. Skip it, and go watch Doctor Who, starting with the reboot season 9 with Christopher Eccleston and don't stop until you're completely caught up. I suppose you can take potty breaks and maybe sleep a little. Food optional. You can thank me later.

I used to watch Doctor Who when I was much much younger. They always say your first Doctor carries a special place in your heart. My first Doctor was the Fourth Doctor: Tom Baker. I wanted a super long scarf like his SO BADLY (and still do), and he was amazing and his first companion was Sarah Jane Smith whom I fell in love with too and the entire show was MAGIC. Daleks! The Master! Entropy! When they did the reboot, I was resistant. I grew up with Classic Doctor Who, how DARE they try to bring back my childhood love! They were going to ruin it! I didn't start watching until partway through the 11th Doctor, Matt Smith. I started at the "beginning" of the reboot, season 9. And oh man, it was SO GOOD. My entire family started watching together. We walked around the house going, "Are you my Mummy?" in creepy little kid voices. I slowly made my way through the episodes. A lot of them made me laugh. A lot of them made me cry. All of them kept my imagination fully engaged and pulled me back into this wondrous world.

It's amazing how fiercely loyal Doctor Who fans are to their favorite characters. We will argue forever about why THIS Doctor is so much better than THAT Doctor and we all have Companions that we like, don't like, loath, and love. You become attached to a specific Doctor, and when it's time for the passing of the guard, when that Doctor is leaving the show and being replaced, it is almost traumatic. Each actor brings something new to the role, each Regeneration a different aspect of the Doctor's overall character. Every time, you start out HATING the new Doctor. How DARE he try to replace YOUR Doctor. He will NEVER be as good. Ok FINE, I'll just suffer through watching this new guy. And then, he starts to grow on you. You find yourself liking him. He may, perhaps, never replace that special Doctor in your heart, but you end up enjoying his portrayal the more you watch.

This weekend is a Doctor Who event, The Day Of The Doctor. It's the next step where the last season left off. They're showing it in limited theaters around the world, and also on TV. I can't wait to go and wait in line early to get good seats with my kids, and just geek out with all the other Doctor Who fans that will be in that line; reminisce about past Doctors, discuss our favorite and least favorite episodes. And then sit among them and take in the transition to the next Doctor, and the start of a whole new adventure.

I-L-Y

When I started going to college to become a sign language interpreter, it was really weird. I was older, there were little kids there fresh out of high school. Some of them had taken sign language as their foreign language in high school, and some were CODAs (Children of Deaf Adults), so they already had a grasp of the language and were easily bored with us beginners and the slow pace. My second quarter, I took ASL 2 and walked into the classroom to find out I had a deaf instructor. She was nice enough to have interpreters that first day of class, to ease us into the transition. After that, there were no voices in that class. Her name was Gayle. She was older, probably in her 50s. She was thin, wiry, always wore cowboy boots, and if you saw her out of the classroom always had on a cowboy hat. It looked perfect on her. She had lost her hearing as a young woman due to illness. Her hands were beautiful. She was the most patient, kind person I have ever met in my life. She had a wickedly barbed sense of humor, and never missed an opportunity to inject humor into her teaching. She was never cruel, or harsh, but she *was* firm. She tolerated no nonsense in her class. If you couldn't zip your mouth and move your hands, you were OUT. I adored her.

My college sponsored a Silent Weekend every quarter, it was basically a full-immersion camping experience, where deaf/hard-of-hearing joined students, sometimes faculty, and just regular folks. It was voices off the entire weekend. It is SO DIFFICULT to remember to not talk first thing in the morning when you're groggy from sleeping on the ground and stumbling around looking for the shower houses. I started going to them that second quarter, because I had to have a "deaf interaction experience" to write about for my class. I was terrified. I had only learned some basic signs, and there was no way I could converse fluently. Everyone was very patient, and notepads and pens were used sparingly. Some of the Deaf folks refused to write things, and would repeat things over and over and over slower and slower, or different ways, until you GOT it. It was an amazing learning experience. Gayle went to all of these. She helped out with setup/tear-down, showing by example what we should be doing. She mingled and played games with everyone. She was in her element.

We became good friends over the years that I went to school, and continued to hang out at Silent Weekends every quarter. One year she was in charge of setting up the Special Olympics locally, so I volunteered to help out interpreting awards. It was the first time I had ever heard her use her voice. I didn't even know she COULD speak! She spoke in a low, even voice, that fit her PERFECTLY, and was clear. I asked her about it, and she shrugged and just signed, "Well, it's useful sometimes, but I don't rely on it." One year I gave her a Sign Language Barbie. It has Barbie as an ASL Teacher, little cards in there showing basic signs, and she's making the I Love You handshape. Gayle loved it. Before I moved, I made her a Pysanky egg, that had the ILY hand shape repeated around it, and more traditional designs on top and bottom.  I can still feel the tight hug she gave me when I presented it to her.

Several years ago, Gayle got sick. She had cancer, and although she went through treatment, and fought it, in the end it claimed that amazing woman. As her loved ones, my friends, were going through her effects, they found the egg, and sent it back to me. It now sits on my desk, a daily reminder of my wonderful friend, and to be kind, and patient, and make beauty with my hands.

Lists

I'm a firm believer in Lists. Part of that is the control freak in me, that likes to have everything under my thumb and know exactly what's going on when, and what needs to go where. That's probably related to my childhood where I was whisked away at a moments notice and basically had no control over my life until I finally hit high school and could put my foot down and say "NO, I'M NOT GOING!"  Part of it is because I'm usually doing the equivalent of walking, playing the tambourine, skipping backwards, while reciting the Gettysburg Address all in my head at any given time. There are so many things buzzing around in there, that if I don't pin those thoughts to paper like some kind of Thought Entomologist they'll just fly away and I'll forget them. And part of it is that I get deep satisfaction from marking stuff OFF of lists. Done! Done! It gives me a feeling of accomplishment and helps break down big tasks into smaller chunks so I don't feel overwhelmed.

I make Lists for all kinds of things. Right now, I have a list of the Crafting professions I need to level in Final Fantasy (and to what level each needs to be raised), a List of gear upgrades I can get for my hunter in World of Warcraft, and which boss drops them where, and ever-growing Pinch List that will be due next time I see a friend because he totally deserves them, a List of STUFF TO DO when I get wherever I end up next year, a list of To See Movies, a list of Bills, and a list of books To Read that I am slowly making my way through. These aren't even all my Lists, these are just ones within my eyesight right now! Hmm.. maybe I should make a List of my Lists so I can keep track of them all..

Insert Witty Title Here

Nothing to say today. Sometimes you just need to hug a Unicorn.

Movember

So November is the month in which guys are supposed to grow mustaches in support of men's cancer research. They rename the month Movember, and focus all their brain power on their upper lip follicles - grow! grow! GROW! Nick Offerman does funny videos every year about it, this is his latest one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xV2EEcDbGlg&feature=youtu.be

Here's the thing, there are SO FEW guys that can actually pull off growing just a mustache without looking like a porn-star wannabe. Sam Elliott comes to mind. That mustache plus his deep voice... niiiice. And then there's.. um... Billy Burke, in the Twilight movies. That's about it. Guys, if you're going to go for facial hair, stick to a full beard (TRIMMED NEATLY), or a goatee. Soul patches, mutton chops, mustaches, or amish-style beards.. just NO. If your face looks like you accidentally fell face-first onto a dead muskrat, and it stuck, then you really need to do something about that (plus, it's probably going to start smelling soon).

In honor of the month of Movember, I give you the CARSTACHE!

That's right, even cars can get into the spirit of the month. Though I think technically the placement of that mustache means the car grew it on its ass, but we won't quibble about that. No, guys, that doesn't mean you should manscape your ass hair into a mustache. Facial hair around the mouth already tends to be the dropping ground for various foods while eating, I don't even want to THINK about what an ass-stache would be a dropping ground for. Ew.

Nerdy And Proud Of It

I love living in this technology age. I started my nerd journey on an Apple II+ my dad bought us in 1980, and never looked back. That machine had some of the most fun games I've ever played, that I still love today. Lode Runner (the ORIGINAL), People Pong (little naked Amazonian women you had to keep bouncing up from the floor of spikes with a Pong paddle.. if you missed they got impaled and blood trickled down from them. Mom got PISSED when she found out we were playing it. NAKED WOMEN. Mom, chillax, this is Apple II+ graphics.. they're barely discernible as PEOPLE), and Choplifter (a side-scroller where you were supposed to shoot open buildings in a war-torn landscape and rescue the soldiers. Or, do what I did and squash them with your helicopter. They made the most satisfying BLEEP! sound as you landed on them. I never seemed to win that game.)

As I've gotten older, technology of course has evolved in leaps and bounds, and I've followed eagerly after it. Now we have so many different types of social media: Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, Google Plus and more. I can't even keep up with them all. I've been able to regain contact with old high school friends, far away relatives, and even play D&D with people around the world via webchat. I LOVE this time period. I love all the new gadgets and technology and evolution of video games, and just EVERYTHING. I am completely and unashamedly hooked on the Internet. When I was in high school, I used to go in the library on breaks and just sit and read the encyclopedias. I've always had a hunger for information, trivia, the minutiae of life. Now, the Internet has made so much available, I'll never get bored, or run out of stuff to read or look at. Sometimes I spend hours just following one link, to that story, then the link in that story to another story, and so on. Down the rabbit hole I go and you never know where it will lead you. Sometimes my friends and I try to outdo each other with the most shocking, bizarre, gross things we can find on the Internet. I almost always win. That's me, Queen of the Internet! My kids have all been raised with access to technology. I know some parents minimize the time they allow their children to watch TV, or use a computer, or play video games, and that is of course their prerogative. When my kids grow up to be business executives, programmers, perhaps next Bill Gates they'll need wholesome non-technical people to do the menial stuff.  ;)

I Know There Are Orange Cones Lurking Nearby

The running joke in Columbus, Ohio, is that the Orange Barrel is the State Symbol. This is because there is ALWAYS some road somewhere that is half-closed, under construction, rerouted, just a mess. When I moved to Washington I thought I escaped all that. HA! There is no escape from the Orange Barrel, it follows you like a Girl Scout with a cookie quota to meet.

They decided to widen the main thoroughfare I use every day to get to the freeway from our house. It was annoying, and inconvenient, but they're finally almost done with it and it did help improve the flow of traffic once it's all said and done. Just when I was settling in to enjoy it, the construction moved INTO MY WORK BUILDING. I think I'm being stalked by it.

My work rents part of a floor of a biiiig office building. The other floors have medical-ish offices. I think. Ok I admit I've walked past the little Directory of Offices in the lobby pretty much every day since I started working here a few years ago, but never actually glanced at it. I have been asked where such-and-such Doctor's office is by people wandering into the building as I make my way from the public bathrooms back to my office, so I assume there's doctors SOMEWHERE in the building. I usually tell them top floor. What? They probably needed the exercise anyway. (Oh, okay, there IS an elevator too) There are public bathrooms on the main floor, which is the floor my office is on, and also upstairs on the second floor. I tend to go to the upstairs bathroom, not due to any healthy thoughts of taking the stairs (which I do), but because the stall walls in that bathroom are a lovely scarlet color, instead of the boring tan ones downstairs. Plus, I'm pretty sure the bathroom is haunted. Anyway..

Since I make the foray upstairs pretty much every day to go potty, I couldn't help but notice when the spray-painted words appeared on what otherwise had been perfectly normal office walls. "DEMO ------->" scrawled along the entire wall. It was very mysterious, and I tried to figure out where the arrows where actually pointing because I was POSITIVE it was going to be a demo of some amazing new medical advancement, like a toilet seat that would say nice things about you when you sat down. ("Ooh, your butt is soo nice and warm!"  "Oh my, you've lost weight, haven't you?!" "Why don't you sit for awhile, I've missed you!") Alas, it was actually just an abbrevation for "Demolition", which I found out a few days later when I came up the stairs and most of that wall was in fact gone.

Now, you may think this is a terrible thing, but actually, it was TOTALLY AWESOME. See, all the offices in our building have keycard doors. You can't (hypothetically speaking, of course) wander through the building when you work weekends and alllll the other businesses are closed and steal their post-it notes or see where they are hiding the new hi-tech toilet seats. Now, finally, you could see what was behind those magic doors! Um, it was cubicle offices, and then real offices against the wall that had windows. Major disappointment. The only neat thing was they had partially disassembled the cubicles, and just shoved all the STUFF from them into the middle of the room leaving an aisle so people could get to the real offices behind. I got rather voyeuristic enjoyment when going to the bathroom for the next week or so and seeing all those people EXPOSED working in their offices. HA! NO HIDING BEHIND WALLS FOR YOU!

Then one day, I came upstairs, and they had completely torn out the wall on the OTHER side of the landing. COOOOL! This used to be a sitting area, with pretty plants and modern art deco, and comfy looking chairs. At least, I *ASSUME* they were comfortable, since this area too was key-card entry denied. Big teases. Now, it was all gone, the lighting was gone, hell the drop ceiling was gone! They had hung a big plastic sheet across the gaping entrance, and in peeking around it, I could see down the entire length of the building. Electric boxes hanging from the ceiling. Totally gutted. WOW. I thought this was the coolest thing since sliced, slight toasted, buttered and jammed bread.

What I failed to take into consideration, is that this entire destroyed area was, in fact, directly above MY office. I soon was made aware of this fact, when upon sitting down to start work the next day, was startled repeatedly and randomly ALL DAY by BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG! ... DRIIIIILLLLLLLLL!!!... BOOOM!... CLANG!CLANG! ... BANG!BANG!  And this happened at no set intervals, and not in the same location above us, and you could FEEL the banging through the floor it was so hard. It was so loud that when I would try to be responding to voice-activated phone trees, it would pick up on the noise and think I responded. This was annoying the first day. The second day, it was trying. We're now going on week 2. Our bosses have repeatedly talked to the building manager, who assures us they are doing as much of the work as possible at night/on weekends, but I aint buyin it. It's too loud, too consistently during the day. My only hope is that they are putting in an indoor skating rink, and I can break out the leg warmers and rollerskates and get my disco on. Hey, a girl can dream, right?