and the rain comes down

I'm looking out the front window watching a furious downpour. I suspect that it will soon start with the hail. It sure does rain a lot here. I guess that would be normal to think that after moving here from a desert.

It's been a spell since I was last here.

The Mr. has gotten his ass in a little bit of trouble with the law. We won't know the full extent of it until after the 30th - and then I can only hope and pray that will be the end of the whole goddamn ordeal. Although, I have to admit, what he's been doing that got him trouble has worked very well for the two of us over the years. It kept peace in the family ... so to speak.

One of my doctors was pulled from me -- without my knowledge or even having the opportunity to correct whatever it was that pissed him off. I was very disappointed in how SN handled the whole affair. After not receiving any files from him for a couple weeks, I finally started emailing and calling. Finally, after 2 days, the director had the balls to tell me that he was not happy with my work and they were forced to pull the account from me. It was my only plastic surgery doc -- jackasses.

Got nothing else to say.

Yet another nasty fact about MSN Spaces

After working for the new company for awhile, I've come to realize that I don't believe I selected enough doctors, hence I find myself with much time on my hands. I relayed this information to the quality control person. In turn, she invited me to chat with her on Messenger. I gladly accepted because this would also give me access to her when I have questions regarding procedures and whatnot.

It has really worked out well having this line of communication because she's a very busy person (or so she tells me) and often times does not respond to emails if they are not 'fires'. For a couple weeks, she would always respond to anything I messaged her with. During one of these chats, she asked me if I would be interested in a surgical center account. She went on to say it's an easy account, all American native doctors and about 250 reports a month. She even sent me a sample report of one of the doctors, which I transcribed and oh yeah! he was easy on the ears!

Needless to say, I got myself all worked up and excited about having an entire surgical center account and emailed her with a whole list of questions. After a couple days and no response from her, I messaged her and asked if she had had time to read my email with the questions. She did not respond to that message. So, a few days later I messaged her again. Still no response.

By this time, I'm getting pretty frustrated with this lack of communication from her because obviously, SOMEONE is typing up the account right now. I let another week go by and then I emailed her yet again asking if the account was still available and if so, could we set up a time to chat about it and once again, no response.

I was chatting with someone else on messenger (another MSN Spaces blogger) and right clicked on her nickname and selected profile. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Her profile is directly connected to her blog! Soooooooooooooooo, that would mean that mine is too and there is NO WAY to disassociate the two without removing the contact from the chat list.

I have to wonder now, am I being blown off this account because she read my blog?

Fucking MSN!

Why is it different now?

Two people that I met on-line a little over a year ago announced yesterday the truth behind their relationship.
One is married.
One is single.
I like them both very much and initially I was thrilled about their 'coming out' as a couple.

I've had time to sleep on it and I don't feel thrill any longer.
There's a sadness to all of it - namely the fact that one is married and is still living with that partner.
The sadness is because that unknowing partner could just as easily be me. I seriously do not believe that to be true now -- but just the same, I would hate to find out that the Mr. was giving all the 'good stuff' to someone else rather than me.

Yes, I had an on-line net sweetie.
Yes, it lasted for 4 years.
Yes, I felt that I was giving the net sweetie all the good stuff.
Yes, I met him in real life.
Yes, I felt like I was cheating.

No, the Mr. did not know how I felt about the net sweetie.
No, I never slept with him -- like that really make a difference

Yes, I would be sickened if I found out the Mr. was having an on-line affair.

I don't want it to end!

My cousin arrives "state side" this week. She'll be celebrating her 50th birthday with the whole famdamily.
She's bringing her brat granddaughter, her grandson, and her son.
I would love to spend some time with her but I can do without the rest of the clan. Hence we won't be making 13 hour drive this time.

I was so thrilled that the takeover company picked me up. I was told to select my own docs - I chose a total of 10. I have since then discovered that it's really not enough to keep me busy, so after chatting with the former client and receiving a couple more names, I submitted a request for one specifically. The new company responded stating that he had already been assigned. So I asked for a couple others - absolutely no response.

The no response thing has me on pins and needles. I keep thinking the whole damn works is going to be pulled out from under me. I E-mailed a friend and mentioned the lack of communication with this new company.
Be damned if she didn't basically confirm my concerns ... errr fears.
Shit! Just when I'm getting started and really enjoying it.
I hope I don't get the rug pulled out from under me on this.

Beat me with a leather belt

The work thing has been going very well.
I send my work back after I finish each file and in the morning I have an email telling me there are files on the ftp.
The email is like a little present to start my day with.

Last night, I forgot to send off my last two files.
So, no email this morning telling me there are files on the ftp, no email requesting the last two files, no email telling me there won't be any files until I turn in the last two.
Just an empty mailbox.

Huh, I guess the silent treatment is how one gets punished for not following through.

I think I'd rather take the beating.

So this is living?

We've got the new windows - that would be the new condensation kind of windows.
Yes, I was not happy with the windows to start with but now I'm very unhappy with the windows. Condensation gathering on every one of them. I sent a registered return receipt letter to the company that sold them to us and asked them if this was normal. They sent out a couple guys the other day.
Of course they sent the good looking ones.
The problem isn't the windows - the problem is we have high humidity in our house because of the gas heat.
Strange, we had gas heat last year and wood frame windows and I don't recall any condensation. But hey, what do I know about this stuff. The 'lookers' told us that it is not the windows or the installation that is causing the problem. So we're stuck with $7000 worth of windows -- complete with condensation.

Sucks.

The Mr. is gone right now. He went to a basketball game. A girl's basketball game. Imagine that.
The darling little 16-year-old hard body told her dad to be sure and tell the Mr. that she is playing this afternoon.
I don't recall the Mr. ever going to a girl's basketball game before in my life -- he never even watches it on tv.
Yes, this is getting more and more interesting.

My work room is a fucking pit. I get so sick of the mess that is in here.
I planned this room to be a constant mess though.
The main reason is because I was fed up with having to put a guest bed in my 'craft' room. So I decided when we moved here that of course the Mr. can have his 'sports' room -- but it would also house the guest bed and dresser.
I have managed to keep 'my' room so full of junk, treasures, crafts, clothes and whatnot, that there would never be room for a bed. I've been able to hold my ground on this one. But now that I spend so much time in here, I want it cleaned up. That would mean I have to part with some of this "junque". *sigh*

The power of family ...

... to make one fine conversation turn to a pile of shit with one guilt inducing sentence.

Ah yes the family -- the one group of people that know every goddamn thing about you. All your successes and mostly, all your failures.

I had the opportunity to talk to a woman yesterday - one that I have known all my life.
Or should I say she's known me all my life? This woman is an aunt.

She used to be my best friend. We had some good times when I moved back from Wisconsin in the late '70's and into the 80's. Regardless of what is going on with us now, I'm sure she would agree ... it's a good thing bars, cars and motels can't talk. Yes, she and I have shared some secrets.

When I made a visit back to see the folks in the fall of 2005, she had mentioned she wanted my dad to get mom some new shoes. Not just shoes -- but pricey shoes - she never explained why.

hmmmm, how odd, I thought, that she is so insistent that she have such pricey shoes.

It seems really strange that a woman like my mother, who could care less what she looks like anymore, would need that kind of shoe. It's not so much that she doesn't care about her appearance anymore but it's the fact that she seldom gets out of the wheel chair anymore.

Well, a couple weeks later, the aunt and I talked again and she started laughing and said something to the effect of:
"I don't know what I was thinking! Yes, why would she need such pricey shoes when she seldom gets out of the wheel chair?" and she laughed.
End of subject.

Not so.
My mother has diabetes. They recently found a sore on the bottom of her foot. She didn't realize she had a sore, because she doesn't have much feeling in her feet any more.

Once again, I was talking with this aunt that used to be my best friend, that is now just my aunt again - and she managed to put this little zinger in the conversation:
"I told you and your dad a year ago that she needed better shoes - now she has this sore on her foot that isn't healing."

Well, dear auntie - since you're the one closest to her, and if you're so sure her shoes caused this sore or even could cause a sore, then why didn't you put it like that -- or better yet, why didn't you just get the fucking shoes when you first mentioned it 5 months ago?
(yes, dear auntie, it was 5 months ago -- not a year ago)

Family ... if ya can't blog about 'em, who can ya really talk to?