19 June 2001
Last year: It wasn't a bad weekend. Just not quite what I'd planned.
You know, this morning I thought, "I don't really want to go to work, but I think I've finally got a grip on it, and if I can just get through the next few weeks, I think I'll be okay."
But that was before I read my e-mail and found out that they were assigning a new development lead to the project. Someone who hasn't worked on it at all yet. Someone who I'd thought was just going to be an additional programmer.
Someone who isn't on the project manager's shit list, I suppose.
That son of a bitch... There's no point to cursing.
They wanted cheerful little wage-slaves, and neither Mike nor I was willing to pretend to be optimistic and bouncy with enthusiasm over this hole of a project, and that's the end of it. It's time for me to start looking for another job, because I think I've completely slaughtered any chance of having an actual career here.
I'm not talking about it any more.
So, this weekend. Matt and I worked half days on Friday and then after we'd packed and run all those last-minute errands that always seem to accompany a trip, we drove down to my parents' house, loaded our stuff into their car, and headed out. It's about a four-hour drive from my parents' house to my uncle's, but the trip was slowed a little by encountering the remains of a tropical storm.
All I can say is - how did I ever survive long car trips without my Powerbook and a spare battery? I worked on e-mail, wrote some of a story, and listened to MP3s for about 95% of the trip. It was wonderful.
We had dinner Friday night at the Outback down the road from our hotel, and I had a lot of fun people-watching while we were waiting for a table. Jacksonville, NC is really an overflow town that supports Camp Lejune, a Marine training base, so the place was packed from floor to ceiling with closely-cropped heads and ramrod-straight backs and shoulders.
It was amusing to be back in the "real" South. I know you Yankees think Virginia counts, but trust me - you haven't been in the South until you've seen a woman give her son the evil eye for not holding the door open for someone coming after them, or a woman walk to a door and wait patiently for someone to open it for her.
Then we spent Friday evening with my relatives. In case you were curious, "my relatives" means: My uncle, John; his wife, Laura; my stepcousins (Laura's children by her previous marriage) Marie and Janine; Marie's husband, Buddy; their children, Kirsten and Jake; Janine's husband, Tony; and their children, Lindsey and Shea. Though Buddy wasn't there Friday evening.
John and Laura come up to visit my parents and go to a golf tournament about once a year, but I hadn't seen the assortment of cousins since Matt and I got married, over three years ago. You know, those kids really do grow pretty fast!
Jake and Lindsey are both four years old, and apparently big rivals. They spent the whole weekend running full-tilt, alternating between playing and fighting. Matt managed to distract Jake several times and was - I have to say - just fantastic with all the kids. More than one relative suggested that he'd make a good father. My uncle wasn't that subtle, but we managed to bite our tongues for the most part and just smile and nod.
Saturday was the barbeque itself - my uncle's retirement party. The food was fantastic, but the weather was hot and muggy, and the place was swamped with dozens of people I'd never met before. I spent most of the day switching between talking to my relatives and escaping indoors to the bathroom - the one place I was pretty sure I wouldn't be disturbed.
I felt sorry for my mom. She'd been stung by a wasp (or maybe a hornet) that morning, and was having a mild reaction - her hand swelled up like a balloon, and she felt a little queasy. (Though the queasy might have been the Benadryl she'd been force-fed.) Everyone kept asking her how she was doing and poking at her hand as if there was something that could be done for it. Even I couldn't resist watching her worriedly.
Sunday, after a final brief visit, we headed home. Once again the Powerbook was invaluable. About two hours into the trip, we stopped for lunch, and when we got back on the road, I noticed the air conditioner wasn't blowing as cold as it had been. But from the back seat, I just assumed Dad had decided to turn it off.
After a bit, I asked if he could turn it back on, and it turned out it had been on. Dad muttered something about the freon needing to be recharged, and we opened our windows.
An hour from home, Dad suddenly cursed. The temperature gauge had redlined - we'd lost radiator fluid, or something... We limped off the highway and into a gas station just outside of Suffolk, VA.
Suffolk, we found out, has no tow trucks, rental car companies, or even taxi services that operate on Sundays. Dad wound up calling a friend of his from home and asking him to come and get us.
Luckily, the Amoco where we'd pulled in had a small sandwich shop with booth seats, so Matt and I plunked down to wait. It wasn't long before we discovered that each booth had an open outlet near it. I plugged in my phone and called everyone whose number I had handy. Then I plugged in my Powerbook and went back to writing. Matt played video games. Dad pulled out his laptop and tried to play some games, but he was too restless.
About three hours later, Dad's friend and his wife both pulled up in separate cars - they were on their way to their anniversary dinner, so they were going to leave one car with us and continue on in the other to their dinner. After profuse thanks, they left, and we began moving luggage.
Matt and I made it home finally around 8 Sunday evening, and then had to stay up until about 1 to finish the laundry.
Despite the glitches, it wasn't a bad weekend... But it surely wasn't relaxing! And, as Matt says, when he becomes Emperor of the World, Suffolk, VA will be burnt to the ground.
Word of the Day:
arcadia - a region or scene of simple pleasure and quiet
Currently Reading:
- nothing
Current Projects:
- drawing
- Hall stuff
- garden