Wednesday, July 31, 2013

I do, you do, we do

No blogs have come your way as I've been in the middle of writing a wedding.  Yes, a wedding.  Me, the traveling minister, the renowned Pastor Master sister mister, official officiant Addi, is on the job.  I am performing a wedding for the wife's sister this weekend.  Not only is it hilarious that I will be officiating for such a large wedding, it is the wife's sister, birthed from the land of conservative Catholicism, that will be my subject.  This might just push the wife's family over the edge.  It's bad enough that the bride isn't getting married in a Catholic church during a full Catholic Mass--she has the nerve to have me do the honors.

Me, a heathen, a giant ball of sin, oozing gayness from every pore, a gone-wrong, divorced Catholic covered with Leviticus-ignoring tattoos.  Be still, my sacred heart.

To them, I say: Jesus is all good with me and my ministering. I can rock the pulpit like no one's business. Besides, isn't it better to have someone who has known you for thirty years to do the ceremony as opposed to a priest you've only met a few times?

For the record, I am ready.  I finished the first draft a week ago and the final edition last night.  I will practice tomorrow. I am tickled pink by this opportunity, so I put lots of extra time and effort into the creation of this ceremony.  This is one of those life highlights that we all hope to experience.

Writing a wedding is relatively easy, as the components of a Christian-type or semi-secular service are all spelled out and the wording tends to more alike than not.  Oh sure, you can throw a hand fasting or jumping over a broomstick in there, but for all intensive purposes you've got the welcome, the dedication, the readings, the declaration, the vows, the rings, the blessing and the ending.  With today's access to the Internet, you don't even have to be very creative--you can glean full services right off the screen. Hell, I've had two "weddings" of my own, so that has to count for something.

We've all been to weddings, so we kind of know what to expect.  A lot of the readings are the same, many of the rituals are the same or dang close to being the same.  Actually, I learned the most about weddings when I was a janitor for the college church--I cleaned between weddings.  I sat in the closet/storage area, out of the way of the activities, and sat through ceremony after ceremony (no windows, all cement room, no radio reception).  I noticed that one of the main ministers said the exact same thing every time.  He had a script and he stuck to it, even for people I know he knew.  It was rote, boring, a thing to be done, not to be lived or enjoyed or celebrated.  It was kind of like he was checking off a task on his to-do list.  Worse, he used that "clanging gong" verse every single time.  For the record, I didn't like it then and I won't be using it now.  The wedding would last approximately 20 minutes.  Yadda yadda, yes, yes, I do, I do, I now pronounce you man and wife. Next!

(I will not do this.  Every couple is different.  Every couple deserves something individualized.  I guess that's easy for me to say, as I'm not spitting out ceremony after ceremony.  But, if I ever get booked for gigs, I'll stand firm to my belief that each couple has earned their "own" day, their own words, their own approach.)

The priest was always more passionate and engaging.  He seemed to know the people and changed it up every mass.(Well, as much as a Catholic priest can change things up...I'm talking the homily, not the actual service.  You can't exactly change the Mass.)   I don't remember him mentioning a clanging gong, so points to him.  Those services were at least 45 minutes long, usually more like an hour.  Although it meant I had to sit in the storage closet longer than I'd like, I enjoyed listening to him lead the way to matrimonial bliss.

It's ironic that a priest, a man who cannot and has never been married, is professing the way to a happy, successful marriage.

Every once in a while, someone would bring in their "own" minister, which gave me something to enjoy (it's pretty boring sitting in a storage closet hour after hour).  Heaven help me when the minister would read the verse about the woman submitting to the man.  It took everything in me to stay in that storage closet and behave when they'd read that diddy.

Submit to my husband, my ass.

The wife's sister's wedding will be a sob fest, as the wife's family cries at the drop of a drop of a hat.  They cry in happiness at everything.  The wife was crying last night just listening to one of the songs her sister will be playing.  It's a good thing I don't cry too easily, lest I be rendered useless at my post.  We'll be throwing Kleenex instead of tossing rice.

This wedding will feature two special components: the sand ceremony and the butterfly release.  I hear there is a shortage of butterflies in the world right now.  I think that might be solved when all those butterflies are released at the wedding.  I've only been to one other wedding that had a butterfly release and that was done after the service while we were taking photos.  This one will be during the service, right before the pronouncement.  I shall pray to the baby Jesus that all the butterflies are alive and float gently away.  It would be a buzz kill if one plopped to the ground, don't you think?

Oh dear, the wife is listening to the music for the wedding....I see little tears forming.  How is she going to get through her reading if she can't even listen to one song from a vampire movie, from the comfort of our deck with no bride or groom in sight?

You know, maybe I should go watch that vampire movie again.  It did have a pretty good wedding scene.  I don't remember any butterflies but I know there were no clanging gongs....
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Saturday, July 20, 2013

Of Wedding Vows and Ice Cube Trays

Blog Number Two on the wife's mac.  The lighted keyboard is coming in handy, as it is 5 AM and I'm sitting in the dark, in an effort not to wake the wife.  Let it be known that I did indeed configure and order a computer...it's on its way and should be here by the end of next week.

So, what did I order, you ask?

Hint: it does NOT have an apple on it.

Living without a real computer has been an absolute pain in the ass.  It's left me crabby.  I can't stand it. I feel so naked, so lonely, so pathetic.  I may weep with happiness when the new PC laptop arrives at the door.  I think the wife might weep with happiness, too--she can have her computer back for all eternity and not worry that I am getting fingerprints on the screen or scratching the exterior with whatever might cross my path.
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I didn't sleep very well last night as I was busy writing wedding vows in my dreams.  I'm getting ready to officiate the wife's sister's wedding and thus the pressure is ON.  Her family, comprised of super-charged zealots, is not quite sure they agree with me leading the way.  It is my obligation to perform to their most holy standards while giving the bride and groom what they want...and, while writing something that I can actually read.  I can't spew words I do not believe, so it's a delicate balance.  (Well, for the right amount of money, I can spew anything someone wants--but, in this case, my officiating is a gift to them, so no unbelievable spewing at this event.) Words of wisdom: do not start such a project at 9 PM, lest you will dream about wedding vows and marriage blessings all night.  
I finally gave up and snuck out of bed to get the wife's computer.  
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As many of you know, I have the best job on earth, with oodles of fun and entertainment on a daily basis.  Oh sure, there are days that are a pain, life-sucking and down right depressing, but the good outweigh the bad by such a large percentage that I can't really complain.  

That said, I remind you that I mean absolutely no disrespect when I talk about my job.  If you remember nothing else, remember this.  (This is so important to me that I had to put it in red.) I find humor in the daily dealings but mean no disrespect those I service by finding such humor.  This is my disclaimer to you.  Don't you go and get all confused on me. Enjoy my antics for what they are and hold sacred those whom I serve.

Soooo, the other day at work, two grown men got into a fight over an ice cube tray.  This fight had nothing to do with mental illness, so they can't claim it was their symptoms that led to the event.  They were just two grown men mad about an ice cube tray.  If I had to have a roommate I didn't pick, I might get into a fight over an ice cube tray, too.  It's unfortunate, but our clients have to have roommates in many of our settings.  I liken it to college, when some sadist in the student services office pairs you up with a roommate and by the end of the first three weeks you are wondering how the hell anyone ever paired the two of you together.  There is not a lot of control when it comes to being a client with mental illness within a setting such as ours.  It is what it is....

.....in this case, the ice cube tray gives a whole new meaning to the cold war.

Manly Man One (MM#1):  removes ice cube tray from freezer in effort to create a cold, refreshing iced tea as part of his breakfast of champions.

Upon hearing the sound of ice cubes being freed from said ice cube tray, Manly Man Two (MM#2) storms out of bedroom, tells 
MM#1 (in a most snotty, condescending tone) to put ice cube tray back, as those aren't "his" ice cubes.

MM#1 makes a smarty pants remark, waves
 the ice cube tray in the air & then takes ice cubes, plopping them one by one into his glass.  Smirking, MM#1 gives his best grade school taunt, including "Na-na-na-na-boo boo" and waves now-semi empty tray in MM#2's face.

(Well, maybe he didn't actually say na-na-na-ha-boo boo but I'm sure that was implied.  Or, maybe he did.)

MM#2  tries to grab ice cube tray to protect HIS personally made ice cubes. He yells out, "THOSE AREN'T YOUR ICE CUBES!"

MM#1 continues to wave the now-empty ice cube tray in MM#2's face, complete with continued name-calling and proclamation that these are indeed his ice cubes, too.

MM#2 joins in name calling.  (Two wrongs will make a right but it won't make ice.)

Third grade mentality ensues.


The men start physically wrestling over said ice cube tray.

The wrestling leads to pushing, which leads to poking, which leads to air slapping...and, then....


MM#1 has enough and punches MM#2 in the face.

(Remember, this is not about mental illness in any capacity.  This about two grown men and their frustration, projected onto a most-innocent ice cube tray.)


Client B's nose becomes a volcano of blood. He runs to find staff, yelling, "he punched me!"

Manly Man #1 calls out, "he slapped me first!"

Manly Man #2 continues down hallway with bloody nose. "Did not!"

"Did, too!"


"Did not."


"Did too!"


MM#2 calls out from behind bloody towel, "I'm gonna press charges!"


Silence.


This is where I come in.  As the on-call person, it is my duty to address such situations.  Yes, my master's degree is needed to find resolution to cold wars such as this.

MM#2's nose is addressed by staff while 
MM#1 returns to apartment. Not missing a beat and not swimming in guilt or worry, he enjoys his cold glass of iced tea with the ice cubes in question.

Of course, MM#1 puts the ice cube tray back in the freezer.......empty.


BAM! Take that, MM#2!

I stand there and assess the situation.  I stand in front of MM#1 and ask, "What the hell is going on?"

Instead of answering my question, MM#1 says MM#2 should be in a nursing home.  I have no idea what this has to do with anything and certainly don't think MM#2 is even remotely in need of a nursing home.  I am in need of a nursing home more than he is.

I turn to MM#2, ensuring that his nose is okay and in an effort to seek his side of the story.  I ask him the same thing: "What the hell is going on?" (This is not quite the empathetic stance taught in college but these are grown men fighting over ice cubes.  I have no time for empathy.)

MM#2 says MM#1 belongs in a group home.


Sigh.  That doesn't answer my question, either.  Forget empathy.  I spit on empathy.  I want to scream out "KNOCK IT OFF, YOU MORONS," but this would be VERY unethical & professionally inappropriate.  I stare at one, then stare at the other.  "So, you are punched him in the face over an ice cube tray."

MM#1 acknowledges he did indeed use the ice cubes and that yes, he does purposefully egg on MM#2. "Heck, I even eat his food and use his stuff." MM#1 laughs.  

Bad, bad move. Shouldn't have laughed, big boy.

MM#2 gets up and calls the police.  

Sigh.  It's going to be a long on-call shift.


The Police arrive and, thanks to their understanding of our program, try not to laugh and somehow remain respectful.  As both clients report that the other hit them first and as there were no witnesses, they (thankfully) don't take report.  They ask that the men be separated for the night.  I concur.


I devise a plan and separate the boys for the night. I hate to do this as it just reinforces their naughty behavior, but I can't leave them in the same apartment.  I tell them, with a stern voice and a scowl on my face, that they will "see the principal" in the morning to learn of their fate.  They know what I mean--they will meet with the supervisor of the site and it probably won't be happy.


I get in my car and return home, chuckling about how much I really do love my job.

During the short ride home, I realize....

......No one ever re-filled the ice cube tray.
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Saturday, July 13, 2013

Macking Around

This is a first for the Addiverse: this post is being written on a Mac.  The wife's Mac, to be precise. We'll know what I think by the time the last sentence is written.  You'll have an instant review, as I write the blog off the top of my head and am done when I am done.

I bet you are on the edge of your seat, brimming with anticipation.

My beloved laptop's monitor took its last breath a week ago.  Since that fateful day, I've been fretting about what to do.  You would think it's simple: my laptop is five years old, which is like 150 years in computer years.  I love and use my computer a minimum of once a day.  I do everything on the computer-- bills, buying, selling, shopping, reading, banking, socializing, communicating, streaming, working, blogging.  PCs are cheap.  Simple: go buy a new laptop for about $400 and add a few programs.

Well, it's not that simple and thus the fretting has begun.

The wife, who is like a walking advertisement for Apple, has a Mac and adores it.  She uses a PC at work, but other than that, she has an iPhone, iPad2, two iPods and a Mac.  They all talk to each other.  Whenever she does something on one, they all go "Ding! ding! Ding! DING! ding!"From the corners of the house, iProducts reach out and feel the love.  She voted I get a Mac.....

....and, I admit that I covet my iPhone and love my little iPod shuffle, and so her vote for a Mac is duly noted....

....except I can't use if for work and that's basically a deal-breaker.  I do a lot of work on my home laptop while at home.  The IT god set it up so I could use a remote log in.  I get all my paperwork done between 6-7 AM.  It's awesome--I sit at the kitchen table, drink coffee, wait to poop and do my work.  Although he's a god, he's pretty sure it would just about kill him to set up the remote access on a Mac.  (I thought he was kidding and just didn't want me to go to the "dark" side, but my own research confirmed what he said).  Even so, I asked the wife if I could try her Mac, just to see what all the hype is about.

And, here I am, using the Mac, despite this glaring issue.

So, you are astutely wondering, why not just go get the PC and be done with it? After all, I can't keep using the TV as my monitor and there is lots of work to be done.  Well, all the newer computers are now equipped with Windows 8.....

....and, that's basically a deal-breaker, too.  That program is so full of bugs and problems that it basically crawls away from the table.  Here's my conversation with the Best Boy at Best b.u.y.:

Me: "Do you have any laptops that have Windows 7?"

Best Boy: "No, they all come with 8."

Me: start to walk away.

Best Boy: Quickly follows the trail of a seemingly loss sale. "Is there something about Windows 8 I can help you with?"

(Obviously this guy does not recognize my computer prowess.  Probably thinks I'm too old or something.  Piss on him and his tiny boy jeans.)

Me:  "Windows 8 gets horrible reviews."

Best Boy: "Let me show you some of the features.  It's very intuitive, based on touch screens like other products."  Goes through a dog and pony show, supposedly educating me on the merits of 8.

Me: "That's great, but I"m talking about the program itself, not how to use the home screen."

Best Boy: "That's the perception--that there is something wrong with 8.  I love it."

Me: "Aren't they coming out with an 8.1 later this year to fix all the bugs?"

Best Boy: "Yeah, in December."

Me: "So, why would I want something that is proven to have all sorts of issues and needs an updated version in order for it to work better?"

Best Boy: "Oh, it's an easy fix."

Me: "But, it is still a fix.  I don't want something that needs a fix."

I walk away, quite to his dismay.  To add insult to injury, I go stand by the Macs.  Take that, Best Boy.

(Side note: the guy who helped me at the HH place gets points for muttering in agreement that Windows 8 sucks and that I should wait until they get 8.1 out)

Upon return home, I do a search and find I can easily order a laptop just like the one I currently have, loaded with Windows 7.  The price rocks, the programs are what I need, the IT guy could easily hook me up....

....but, WHY would I get the exact same thing I already have (albeit with a working monitor) and need to pay a couple hundred to load it up with programs I already have?  Oh sure, it'd be a newer model, but really?

You might be asking yourself why I don't just get a new monitor screen.  I did that once before and installed it myself.  (Pretty impressive, eh Best Boy?)  I did it after Lucy stepped on my computer and cracked the screen--this after less than a few months of me owning it.  I bought the screen on line, watched a couple YouTube videos and changed it myself.  Back then, the price of a new screen was much cheaper.  I have no idea why, but it's $30 more now.  I refuse to pay anyone to do this but don't really feel like doing it myself and don't think it's worth the cost....

....I could use an external monitor, like I use on my desk top at work, but that would cost just as much and certainly wouldn't be portable.  The wife says I can't keep a monitor on the kitchen table.  See? Not so simple.

Right now, I use the television as my monitor, which is fun because the screen is so large, but I have to perch on the ottoman, closer to the TV than is comfortable, balancing the cord on my thigh so it stays plugged in, keeping the wife from watching her parade of reality TV shows.  When I take my lap top places at work, I just plug into whatever monitor I'm closest to.  Although this method is free, it really does suck.

I go cross eyed sitting so closely to that big screen.  Being cross-eyed is a deal-breaker, too.

So, here I am, typing on this Mac.  I love that the key board is lit up (not that that means anything beyond looking cool), the screen is super-clear, the thing booted up within a milli-second, it is certainly portable and it's like doing things on my iPhone, so I get it. The battery life is ridiculously amazing.  I hate the mouse but I can get over that.  It's easy enough to use the Internet and I know it would be kick-ass for all my music. As I type, I'm thinking if I were to get a Mac--and, that would be at least three times more money than the PC I am looking at--I'd basically turn it into a PC....and, I'm not sure what the point of that would be....putting me back at square one.

One thing I forgot to note is that the IT guy at work suggested that I get a Mac for myself and keep the screen free computer for work....but, that doesn't solve anything as I'd still have to use the TV to do work at home or squat on someone's monitor at work.

World famine. War.  Poverty. Computer decision.  On the same level, don't you think?  Sigh.