February 17th, 2005

running, bomb tech

Wings

Someone in glamourbombs pointed out that Target had $1 wings. Score! I wandered over in the direction of the closest local Target and obtained two pair (one pink, one blue), and also took the opportunity to investigate the GIANT BOOK SALE!!! in the unit next door. I scored Drowned Ammet, a For Dummies guide on romance writing, and Preternatural 3. Now I just have to get the other three books in the one series and the second book in the other.

I showed up be-winged to writing group, having worn said wings all through my errands before that. Writing group did not bat an eye.

J wound up reading bits from her novel-in-progress, and we went over the characters in detail. We're trying to get it so the eventual reconciliation between the Heroine and the Swain does not go down the wrong way with the reader; the reader should not be wanting to pitch the book out the window, at the Heroine, or at the author. Much debate was had, and everyone was happy.

After that, the dinner. It was small, and lots of chick-talk was had. After that, some happy surfing as I got J's wireless internet card talking to the Willow House wireless connection and shared metaquotes and my own journal with her.

Evidently someone who's knowledgeable about computers and has a compulsive, yet user-friendly, drive to share said knowledge, is a person much in demand and much appreciated. It's a passion, and people like it. Go figure.
running, bomb tech

Nicknames & Clients

Now that I'm at supervisory level, even though I've not got the job title "supervisor" (I'm still officially a Phone Goon Dragged Off The Phones Because We Need the Bloody Help Already, though in politer corporate-ese), I wind up hearing more of who the clients are. Phone goons aren't officially told who the clients are, though in some cases it's very possible to make educated guesses.

Since it would also be foolish for me to actually mention the client names in the journal, because this is a very public space and the company would be so very not pleased for me to be telling the world about their clients and what I think of them, tygerr has hit on an excellent idea for nickname bases.

Everyone probably knows by now that I'm a fan of lmbujold. (For those who aren't familiar with the author, she writes science fiction and fantasy, and has 4 Hugo Awards for best novel, 1 Hugo for best novella, and assorted other awards including a Nebula and all.) One of the planets she's created is called Jackson's Whole, a seedy little inhospitable place populated with a number of criminal and semi-criminal Houses, most of whom sound far too much like mafiosi gone corporate. On Jackson's Whole, you can buy anything that money can pay for. There are probably former spamlords on Jackson's Whole. Nothing is illegal there.

With that in mind, I think I shall start nicknaming specific clients after assorted Nexus corporations. The Durona Group has a few surveys with us. House Ryoval is a major client.

When I've got time to re-read, I'll start picking out appropriate names for the other clients. A couple comconsole companies do stuff with us, and I don't think LMB ever gives us brand names there. So, probably, BetaComm, or something...
Housewife's Lament

spinning my wheels on the launchpad I don't know and itch

So. Today easalle came over with her little one, and we had a grand old time putting things in boxes and talking about the state of the world. JD wound up playing and getting in the way and generally being as five as possible. I'm used to five. I can deal with four through eight now with no problems, evidently. It's negative zero point seven five through four that will be my problem if the universe ever conspires to have me reproduce.

I'll be glad when V's back in town, because V has the answers to everything.

As we're taking everything down, it looks like the apartment has more damage than I thought it did. The carpet's probably toast -- it's mashed and squashed and stained from those inevitable things you get when you have four people, one of whom is a kid, living in a place for four years. (A different set of four people for pretty much all of those years, sometimes with an effective four and a half, but still. People. Time. Damage.) There's a dented door from furniture-moving. There are wall-scrapes. There's a towel bar that really needs re-seating. Blinds are cat-damaged, and need replacement. I won't even begin to go into the havoc that the sink-leak caused under the sink.

The trip around to look at my new apartment options turned out to be a group trip, and not just me. JD was very energetic.

The one potential apartment was off in a corner, with a decent view of the interior of the complex, and a good view of the old folks' trailer park next door, but it wasn't quite what I was looking for. The other apartment was brand-spankin'-new-refurbished after that dreadful fire, and had a great view of the road and of the interior of the apartment complex, plus was right next to both pool and laundry room. It does cost slightly more a month (due to the fresh refurbishment and all). Something, though, tells me that they'd have a dreadful time with anyone else living in there, due to the potential for ghosts. A ferret and at least one person died in the fire (the guy's oxygen tanks contributed to the intensity of the blaze) and the chick who lived there before was lucky to get out alive. So I'm taking that one. I like the interior and location and view better.

I've been spinning my wheels, because I still am not mentally ready to give up my old life. This new one has all sorts of interesting people, but ...

... for a little while, I was almost a mother.

It's hard to move on.
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