Spanning the gap between bc board and bc bored.   After my evenings chingaso juice at the Madrid's, I plan to unleash the final profile.  My plan is to start off mild and be fully crazed by bedtime…midnight or so.   If the chingaso gods smite me a mighty pour, it may have to wait until my long motel eve tomorrow.  Which might be better.  I write more disturbingly in exile.

Either way, TJ probably has the shelf life of a popcicle in the sun.

Earth: It's Much Bigger Flattened Out and it Screams

That today is Columbus Day and I have it off seems poignant indeed; me, a common-law ex Hispanic who works for my government and is always discovering things that wrongly seem to "belong" to other people…

Aside: If Columbus were alive today he'd probably not be allowed in the country.  DO YOU want to pay for his health care? We have plenty of WHITE people who can do his job.  He didn't speak ENGLISH.  He'd be lucky to "discover" chicklets on a tarp in Nogales this time around.

Anyway! He's not and its a holiday and I plan to celebrate later by setting out for Greenleaf and ending up in Emmett, by way of the New Plymouth passage, which involves a shrinkage of the earth and some flattening out in places….I'm confident that my Piece of Shit Mazda can make this journey,at speeds not exceeding 45, with winds in our favor.  I will score a Victory for My People, who want tamales for dinner and to be paid for dog-sitting.  I hope I get to downtrod along the way. 

Other: This weekend I worked the pens at the Trailing of the Sheep SDT in Sun Valley.  What this actually entailed was that I stood in front of the pens so that the ridiculously huge mutton would stop hurling themselves over the sides before their time while Susan did the heavy lifting and sorting.  I think an elk decoy, or cardboard cut-out of some SV celebrity, certainly, could have taken my place, but it went unsaid.  It was cold work in a really beautiful setting and the people I was working with were a lot of fun.  Susan made hot spiced wine yesterday and that kicked the cold on its ass for long moments at a time.     We had a pretty good view of the runs and they were all pretty decent.   I wondered a few times why I hadn't taken up wind-surfing or snorkling…other than it doesn't help justify my dog collection nearly as well. Nothing outside of owning a Korean resturant can though. Yeah. I'm still tired.

This morning I got to work at an hour I normally reserve for not-getting-up-for-another-half-an-hour.  I had a meeting I needed to prepare for, that I hadn't prepared for days in advance, like normal people, because I hate meetings and preparing for them just makes them that much more real to me….So, I was left throwing some things on paper at Ridiculous:30 this morning and hoping for the best. Hoping no one would question the ABSOLUTE bullshit that I was putting together. 

I find that if you don't know what you are talking about in government meetings, wax very general on gossimer things, followed up with something made-up out of thin crisp morning air. Also, always bring snacks.

"We're working on a plan to enhance interagency data sharing at all levels of fed, state, and local government….and we're getting funded out of the new surplus Plume monies…have a donut hole."

There are no Plume monies. But no one at my level or above likes to admit they haven't heard of something.  Everyone at today's meetings will, by tomorrow, react in one of two ways, depending on the amount of powdered sugar on their lips at the end of my schpiel:

1) Know that I'm a fabricator, or just really wrong. These are the minority quiet technical types. No threat to me whatsoever.  At the most they will privately correct me or be amused.

2) Fully embrace and lobby for some of this 'Plume' money. 

The second group is the most fun, because these will be the managers.  They'll make calls to big guys in DC and demand that their project be funded out of the 'Plume' budget.  Confusion will ensue, more calls to higher offices….eventually a Plume budget will exist THEORETICALLY enough to be as real as anything else in government.  Then I won't be such a lazy ass liar.

It's how I live my professional life.

A few weeks ago someone challenged me to come up with six words to describe my life.  I've thought about it off and on since then – when I'm running, or driving, or wishing I had snack food in my office… relatively mindless occupations…. Still, the concept irritates me for some reason.  And yet I can't ignore the task. I like words, but six??  To describe one's LIFE? That seems so thin.  So I came up with a few.  Anyway: Here they are. 

I don't like still life much

Distracted by moving parts. Sold Separately.

Like people who laugh. Love funny.

I like seven better. It's flawed.

up, down, charm, strange, top, bottom ?

Extreme Buddhism is my new "faith"

Get out while the gettin's good

Here's a better concept: The Sums Up One's Life Haiku

I don't need alot

shoes laptop dogs coffee beer

books. I read too much

I'm glad to get out of the way, WITH EXTRA CREDIT!!! I tend to hate poetry in any form…so, that works for me. Has my life been summed up? No, but I am sufficiently marginalized for the morning.

Telework day.  More later….

I spent yesterday with my niece, Good Katy (GK).  She's a sweet kid who just moved down from Coeur d'Alene to go to school at College of Idaho.  Majoring in Social Work, or some such crap – Minoring in Aunt Evil Katy.

GK and I haven't spent much quality one on one time. Her brother, Dylan, used to come down for the summers, Camp Evil Katy.  There was swimming, judging others, fetching me another beer… GK stayed at home and did those crafts with popsicle sticks and yarn. It has to be a huge regret.  Dylan is really funny. Katy wants to "help people"…

I help people. I'm an Extreme Buddhist, sort of.  I believe the traditional Buddhist tenet 'If you can't help others, at least don't harm them'.  I also believe that In the middle, on the crumbly edge of helping and harming, is where the Real Work is accomplished, the 'playground' of the Extreme Buddhist.

"Drop out," I suggested yesterday.  "You can hang out with me.  Live at the Greenleaf place…Achieve Enlightenment….Everything You Need to Know You Learned in Kindergarten. It has to be true, it was a best seller…"

I ordered another beer. She just laughed.  Thank god. I need that Greenleaf place. 

For a little while today I appeared to be alone in my concern about moving into the Death Barracks.  I'd say,

"You know there isn't going to be any "health-type inspection, right?"

And my co-workers would shrug,

"Craig says that he is going to put a porta-potty at each door AND that I can have my own office."

"Craig says that they are going to vacuum up the rat feces and I can have my own office!"

"Craig says that they are going to set traps and hang a cross and I can have my own office!"

Livestock.  Dull-witted ruminants. 

"Well, CHET, did Craig tell you that the molecules of asbestos could be tracked into your HOME from WORK and shrivel Madelines OVARIES?  It could make Prince Rutherford shoot crazy deformed cat sperms?"

(His show cats — Madeline and Prince Rutherford)

Well, that got some reaction.  He actually YiPED.  Like I'd pinched his soft parts. 

"Oh yes!"  I said, "I used to be a vet tech."

Actually I never have been anything even remotely approaching a vet tech.  Maybe a tetch fecked.

"We saw it all the time," I continued, nodding sadly. Throwing in a wince. "Kittens with no fur or legs…or ears…like eels that shit in your houseplants, I imagine."

He scurried into Craig's office and closed the door.  Now Craig isn't talking to me and I'M REALLY HUNGRY. 

Chet's wife is an attorney.

"Craig and I met with Stan, Paul N., Gerry, and Gary B. this morning about the concerns with A Barracks. The latest info is that there is a pest control person coming in today to determine what caused the pile of insulation to be on the floor and in the duct opening in the one office on the second floor.  Assuming that the issue on the second floor is resolved the plan would be to have the duct work cleaned (if needed), have a public health type person verify that the building is safe, clean the lower floor
offices and we would move in.  We are also looking at alternatives if they are needed. Gary mentioned several times about the need to provide a safe work environment for our employees.
Craig or I will provide you with updates as we receive more information." – Email this morning to my work group from our unit manager

The A Barracks is a building here on base that has been abandoned for at least as long as I've been here (12 years), with the exception of one six month period where they moved us into them to remodel our current building three years ago.  The barracks are old, but don't leak, ooze, or whisper Satanic latin incantations. They have private "offices". When we were moved into them last time, we were told not to use the bathrooms. Although the lights are always on in them and the plumbing is functional.

"Don't even open the doors. Infact….nevermind. Just stay away from the bathrooms. And the second floor."

My office in the barracks was a former supply room in the center of all the other offices. It had no heat, no ventilation.  It was paneled in that dark 'knotty pine' crap popular in single wide trailers when wife beating was still a sport in Idaho, or so I imagine.  It's soul sucking properties were audible.

Our agencies have spent I do not even hazard a guess how much money on leasing office space elsewhere and bringing in trailers for additional on-base workspace for other groups. No one but my unit has ever been sent to live in the A Barracks. There is never any discussion about tearing them down. The huge building just sits in the middle of an expanse of field between other functional over-crowded and temporary office buildings. The A Barracks remain empty save whatever is chewing the holes in the insulation and living in the ducts. Vacant until our group needs "temporary" housing.  

This time around, our current building is being made 'earthquake proof'. 

Craig is my bosses boss.  He works directly for the Unit manager.  'Work' applies loosely here, like his jaws. He enjoys hanging out in my cubicle gossiping at top volume about the other employees and his non-existent sex life while I eat a snack which he almost always provides.  As long as I'm chewing, he knows I won't be typing and he can keep talking. Its our unspoken agreement.  He brings really dry snacks so I can't eat extra fast. 

Craig firmly believes that nothing built after 1975 is "worth a shit".  And nothing built before 1976 needs to be fixed. Including the A Barracks,

"It was good enough for me and 6 crews to live in for years…we're going to put porta-pottys outside of both doors…"

"Why not just have us doing our business in buckets?" I ask, "Or in the duct openings to the crumbly asbestos, where the rabid animals are living….?"

"No, that's upstairs. That's offlimits.  I think I can get you that same office you had last time," he tells me, "It's the biggest."

I tell Craig, in what I hope is obvious sarcasm, that I like that Gary even had to mention several times "about the need to provide a safe work environment for our employees"

"Yeah," he laughs, "and he mentions getting a health inspector in to certify the place. LIKE THAT'S GONNA HAPPEN!"

"What do you mean?" I ask

"Oh, there is NO WAY!" Craig chortles. "Can you IMAGINE what they might FIND?"

I shite you nay. This is where I work.

Yesterday afternoon I worked Pat at Dianne's house.  We worked on slowing things down and not humping, which really is good universal advice, I suppose, but humping was a huge part of our relationship and now it seems so… business-like.  Dianne tells me that this is good.  She tells me as if the information should accompany a slap to the side of my head. 

Working Pat is easier than working Jen.  Jen helped me a great deal with timing and learning the low, gutteral "COMEONCOMEONCOMEON!" command, as well as being humble to a dog, because she is usually right….but it was exhausting having to fight her eye all the time. I think, for me, slowing something down is less frustrating than speeding something up.   I process speed better.  Slow makes me divert to the Big Shiny.  I start missing things which should be very apparent.

Dianne worked Scout.  Scout does really well for Dianne.  She listens, she is relaxed; none of this circling and lunging at the sheep, barking.  When I try to work Scout, we both revert to old behaviors.  Dianne says, and I have seen, that the relationship I have built and fostered with Scout makes her insecure and passive aggressive with me.  In turn I am a screeching nutcase with unrealistic magical expectations.  I'm thinking of marrying her and making it legal.

For now, I have 3 conference calls, each more heinous than the next, which means I'm off to buy crunchy foods.