GeekCon

This past weekend Russell and I went to Blizzcon--a huge convention put together by Blizzard Entertainment, the good folks that introduced me to the addiction that is World Of Warcraft.

The Convention was in Anaheim, California, and we drove. It sounds brutal, but it is only about a 6 hour drive--more or less(wholly dependent on how many idiots are on the road)--something we are both well used to.

On the way there we passed a windmill farm, which was just a little creepy. I had always embraced the idea of wind power over non-reuseable resources, but the sight of these rows and rows of hundreds of windmills just made me think of I,Robot and I wanted to be very far away from them.

Driving up to the Anaheim Convention Center and our hotel was much less daunting. Armies of palm trees are so much less threatening than ginormous metal towers topped by blades as big as small aircraft.



Walking into the event, while not awe-inspiring, was pretty impressive. The non-game geek part of me that used to be an event coordinator marvelled at the set up, lights, and effects. Cool stuff.


More to come. Stay tuned.

Here It Is

Written on the back of my ticketless itinerary, here are my thoughts as I sat in the Chicago airport on my 3 hour layover on the way home from Indiana.

Reflections on a Funeral
My $3 airport pen is falling apart, but I'll scratch out what I can before it fails completely, resulting in either further expenditures or a conflustered toss of hands in the air.
So I'm sitting in Midway Airport in Chicago, munching my wasabi peas, with a whole lot of time to think about the past couple of days.

My mom's side of the family has always been close. This simultaneously freaks me out and gives me a huge guilt complex. Everytime I visit there are more new faces to memorize, more names to learn, and more stories to catch up on. And no matter how big the welcome or how numerous the hugs, I always feel the outsider--just a little bit.
I just don't get to visit as often as I'd like, or as I should. It had been about 5 years (5 YEARS!) since I'd been to see my Grandmother, and suddenly (not really, of course, but it feels like it) she's gone. Horribly, the biggest emotion I feel at her passing, aside from the loss, is guilt. I feel guilty that I didn't make any time in the past 5 years to go for a visit. It needn't have been a long visit. It didn't even have to be a visit with my mother present. I could have flown out for a weekend. But I didn't.
In addition to the guilt, I found my self feeling envious of my relatives in that area who got to see Grandma and spend time with her. Utterly ridiculous!

So feelings of guilt and enviousness aside, it's always a little strange to see someone at The Viewing. I'm not talking about the cousins, aunts and uncles here, I'm talking about the Guest of Honour. Besides the fact that it's just an unsettling tradition to see one of your own so oddly preserved, the whole scenario just raises a thousand questions for me.
Most of these questions concern my own viewing/wake. I really don't want a viewing, as such. I want to be cremated. So let's say a wake. First off, let's have some food. Munchies always lighten a mood. Make 'em some of my favourites so people can remember me sharing the recipe or trying a dish for the first time. Next, we need rockin' music. Maybe a slide show or powerpoint presentation with some goofy photos of my life and loves. I want laughter and stories; I want people celebrating my life.
Several times this weekend I found myself wanting to jump up or butt in and say "What is your favourite story of Grandma?", because I know there would have been innumerable tales. But I kept my mouth shut and now I'll probably never hear those stories. Grandma's viewing and funeral were somber, reflective, and respectful events. I want nothing of the sort.

I know! I know!

I have two pages of handwritten stuff to transpose to bits and bytes, but it concerns the several days I was in Indiana for my Grandmother's funeral and whatnot. I've had trouble committing it here, but I will. I need to clear the path for more recent tales, and tales to come. I will. I will.

However, it's 6am on Tuesday, the dogs are crackers and I'm still not dressed for work. I need to get a move on.

Yeah, well.

Upheaval. story of my life. I actually called in sick two days last week. TWO DAYS! This is because a week later, I am still battling the aforementioned evil gnomes of destruction. I went to see the doctor yesterday, and he assured me that "even though I heard a little fluid in your lungs, it went away when you coughed, so I'm marking it down as a 'normal' lung exam...because it's Saturday." WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

He ended up telling me that it's mostly a Bronchitis thing, and he gave me a ZPack (antibiotics) anyway...just in case it really *was* pneumonia--Saturday or no Saturday. He tried to prescribe me Robitussin with codeine for my inconceivably prolonged and violent coughing fits, but I put the kibosh on that rather quickly, having had an ugly reaction to the stuff aeons ago when I had my wisdom teeth out (codeine, not Robitussin!). So regular Robitussin DM for me, and an inhaler to help me get my breathing back on track after one of those fits.

Pretty excited about being on a plane with all my drugs and a hacking cough. Yes. A plane. My dear Grandma Tocco finally decided it was okay to go yesterday, so I'm off to Indiana in the morning. I'll be back here late on Wednesday, and hopefully by then I'll be 100% --or at least 85%--healthy.

Looking forward to that. I've been in a bad, foggy groggy place for the past week, and I love it not. Even going back to work will be a treat. Hell, walking 10 steps without doubling over with a coughing fit will be nice.

Mucous Gnomes?

So my friend Shannon battled these fiends and sent them packing--to MY door apparently. I am illin. And not in a hip, Beastie Boys kinda way. Just feel like I've been run over by one of those big highway asphalt rollers. And like there is a tiny, but perpetual flame in my upper chest. And like my face is stuffed with fiberglass.

I don't get sick often, but when I do it's ugly. And it's almost always on my days off. Case in point... I started to feel bad Monday morning. Muddled through work in a fog--almost asked to leave early but stuck it out--then came home and went to bed at 8pm because I felt so low. The past two days have been days off. I slept almost 12 hours last night and I'm feeling minimally better. I'll probably be right as rain by tomorrow morning, when I am scheduled to go back to work at 7am. *sigh*

On a brighter note, I sized some photos of my best friend's little one.

She was almost 3 months old when these were taken. I don't know nuthin about babies, but it seems to me that she was pretty advanced, as far as sitting up and taking note of things is concerned. And damn, she's just cute!


I'm off to dress myself and try to get my Xterra to pass the Emissions test so I can get re-registered. That should be a boatload of fun to sit through with a hacking cough and upper body riddled with phlegm.

When September Ends

Good grief, where did *that* month go?

So it's October, and I have to say that I love my full suspension bike. I went for my second ride today and rode over rocks that would previously have either rattled my skull into next week or even dismounted me (have I been playing too much WoW? yes!). Barely felt 'em. Laughed at them, even. Ahhhh, Jamis, how I love thee!

Also, if you've never had the experience of having a tumbleweed explode on your windshield, I encourage you to arrange it sometime. It's quite spectacular. I got one full in the face the other day on the way to work and forgot to mention it in all the Dentist Dog excitement. I saw some un-exploded tumbleweeds on my ride today and was reminded of the moment.

Other than that, I got nuthin.