a nice weekend, qualified
2004-05-10, 1:13 p.m.

Found out that one of the Seabees that got killed by a mortar attack in Ramaldi last week was a childhood friend. I have been dreading the thought of having someone I knew die over there, but I have to say that given my age, I figured it would be the child of a friend, rather than a contemporary. I just have to say that Trace was over there building, not destroying, and he gave his life serving the call of his own country and the needs of another. My heart goes out to his family--2 loving parents, a big brother, a little sister, a wife, and two daughters.

I also have to take a moment and tip my hat to the legendary Alan King, who passed away this weekend. When I was a kid of 12 or so, I bought a used book called "Anybody Who Own's His Own Home Deserves It", and I was hooked. I've been an Alan King fan ever since.

Mother's day went well; I was the representative child as my brothers were not there. I gave Mom her jewelry and she was quite pleased, as was Dad with the computer books I got him. (And that was Christmas dealt with). On to Mother's day itself...Two cards-one serious, one funny. The Mosquito Inhibitor, which made quite a splash with both of them. And a last minute, cheap thought that pleased my mom no end. In a flashback to childhood, I got her a grocery store orchid corsage like we used to get for her. She was tickled! I think that everything was a hit. Dinner was nice, the food was of a decent quality, although not exciting or different in any way. The price was reasonable, and my dad and I engaged in the usual check-grabbing tug of war. It ended in a draw--we went halfsies.

My dad was checking out my jewelry skills and wanted technical descriptions of "how'd you do that". When I got done explaining, he decided that he "liked it better when you made jelly." I believe I am to take that as a not-too-subtle hint that he needs more homemade jams and jellies. I told him that considering the fact that they are building houses on the strawberry farm, it is getting harder and harder to do that stuff. But I suppose I'll have to make up a batch or two for him, even though using the frozen fruit is kind of expensive.

Spouse and I have started picking up stuff for the soldier's care package we are putting together; the Osco had 2-pack lip balms at 10-for-$10, so he bought a bunch, and we got kettle corn on sale at Walgreens. We'll take a run to Wally-World tonight ad get socks, gum, candy, etc. We stopped on the way home yesterday for the obligatory stock-up of Mrs. Fisher's potato chips, and did some price checking in Rockford, but I think we'll get most of the stuff cheaper at Wally's.

I have issues with a particular project manager at work. She is a total dimbo who has no grasp whatever on any project she's ever been put on charge of. It is bad enough that I am being assigned to test crap that has nothing to do with my job; but I have to do what I don't know how to do and shouldn't be required to do without any decent documentation or a rumour of a clue as to the expected result! I am, for my sins, quite used to having to beg and bully these jerks for requirements and designs, and to have to mine their pathetic little minds for clarifications and refinements, once I do get a doc. But at least I can get there eventually with most of them. Not so with this over-perfumed, brain-dead fashion plate. Were I to compare her to a brick wall, the brick wall would be a clear winner. Any wall, in fact would be better informed and more accommodating.

I started a new necklace last night--not challenging, but relaxing. Another DNA in #8's, chartreuse matte with a green a/b accent stripe. I just love to do the DNA stitch. It reminds me of when I was able to do cross stitch work, before my hands got so bad. It requires just enough concentration to be fun, and not so much as to be a pain, mentally or physically.

Why do I have all the best dreams right at getting up time? I was having a simply wonderful dream this morning before being jarred into consciousness. I was a governess in a gorgeous town house in London. The house was undergoing extensive renovation under the supervision of an architect/builder. This guy was basically Colin Firth in a blue cashmere turtleneck and grey gabardine slacks. I was young, dark-haired and dark-eyed, and we were both very intelligent but quite shy. We were just in the process of conducting a lovely, circumspect waltz of a courtship (in proper British fashion) when the bloody alarm went clanging away!! Part of the charm of this particular dream--other than Colin Firth of course, was that it contained a wonderful special effect--the house telescoped. At one point, the house (a work in progress at that point) opened up like a telescope being stretched out. It did this with a mere light shove to the principal facade (is there such a thing as a " principal facade"? That is what mysterious architect man called it in my dream, anyway.) I vaguely remember that the smoothness with which the house opened up was some sort of testament to the brilliant original design. I also remember that the homeowners were rather a "Mr. and Mrs. Palmer" pair she was a stupid woman, he a brusque but decent man. In fact, The man was very Hugh Laurie-esque physically. The woman was more of a hysterical Gemma Redgrave than an Imelda Staunton, but I remember the architect telling me privately that she was a very silly woman who could not grasp that a certain column detail was not authentic and therefore not worth repairing. He, as I, could not abide stupidity, although we were both far too well bred for any outward displays of contempt toward our employer. Alas, my pleasant little mind-movie was cruelly cut short by the alarm, so I can only hope that this dream either recurs, or is part one of a series. Small hope, as I don't really have much luck with repeaters.