Drrrraggging along

Geez, this whole going back to work thing is really cutting into my blogging time! If I could blog while I'm poking along in traffic, life would be great, because heaven knows I have enough time to blog, crochet a tent, and possibly groom a poodle during that time...well, maybe not groom a poodle, because it would be hard to make them work once we got to work...they don't have very good keyboard skillz.

Survived the week last week. Hotel accommodations were a vast improvement--love you, Hampton Inn! Only had to eat hospital cafeteria food twice, since I missed the first day of training (sometimes, flight delays are not ALL bad)...and managed not to kill any of my co-workers, and they very graciously refrained from doing the same to me. You know, you learn a lot about people when you spend an entire week in a minivan and a small tiny training room with them and 7-8 customers. A whole lot, and we'll just leave it at that for now...although, if I hear anyone say "whoo hoo!" ever again, it will be too soon. Too 12th of Never soon.

This week begins our initial "sharing" process. Part of the training process is that new people teach/"share" the software to/with an in-house group. Some of the people observing are new to the company, some are old hands, from different departments, etc. They all try to ask questions that would help you react as though it were a real life training situation with customers...and they have to try and do this with a straight face. Our software implementation has 3 distinct phases--a parameter setting phase, which populates customer-specific information in their new software; a business office staff training; and a clinical staff training--see why we are doing 3 visits?

Each one of us "newbies" will do 3 shares, 1 for each phase of training. The Brunette took a bullet for the tripod and went first, and she started this afternoon. A typical on-site version of this training takes 3-3.5 days; since we're in-house and not actually having people build their software like the customers, we can cut it down to 2 days or so, sometimes longer for the other trainings. Again, I can't stress enough how this company really does invest in their train the trainer training, and everyone is very quick to let the newbies know if you need help, just ask. No question is too big or too small. Lucky me, I have another week to go before I do my share. Which means I should practice, doesn't it?

Today was also WW weigh in day. Let's just say that I did not make the best choices I could have last week/weekend, and I paid for it today by being up 2 pounds. Dammit. And, it's not like most of the other food we ate last week was that fabulous...except the night we went for 1/2 price margaritas and drank 3 pitchers. Then, everything was fabulous!

The Recap

Wow…it was a wild week last week, jumping back in to the Way of the Road Warrior.

I’ll just recap the highlights:

Monday: Flight up was uneventful, except for the Colts fan who was snoring his head off about 2 rows back from me. On a 40-seat jet, this was a little too personal. Thank heavens for the iCrack (iPod as it is known in my household). Dinner involved a fried pork sandwich with fried onion straws, which were very good, but I think my arteries just gave up all hope of surviving this trip

Tuesday: Surprise! Snow! Just for me! This necessitated a trip to K-Mart for fashionable snow boots and a big furry hat. With my big black wool coat (thanks, Linna!), black sunglasses, and this hat, I look I could either be in the old Soviet bread lines, or Agent P in Men in Black III. What can I say? Our only options for shopping were K-Mart, Wal-Mart, and JC Penney’s. That was it. No mall, no Target, heck, not even a Dollar General. Lunch was takeout from a local “Italian” place. The Italian sausage sandwich was not bad, but the salad left a lot to be desired.

Wednesday: The highlight of our culinary adventures in sub-tropical Southern Illinois. We had lunch at the hospital cafeteria. (Yeah, you read that right.) Chicken pot pie gravy over biscuits, but at least I got a a real salad to go with it. Up to this point, any salad we got was tired old iceberg with a couple of cucumber slices. That was it. No baby spinach or spring mix, much less red or green leaf lettuces.

Although, we did reach the penultimate culinary high for dinner at a place called Bob’s. We walked in the door of this shack, saw that they had steaks and fish and were instantly feeling much better. Got a big-ass rib eye and a baked potato and all was right with the world until we had to head out into the 7F evening.
Most mornings, it was 0F, if not lower, when we got up. And, when you start saying temperature in “negative degrees,” it’s just plain cold. Anything with a negative in front, whether it be –1 or –50, is just damn cold. To hell with the degrees.

Thursday: Takeout Chinese for lunch…and again a place that doesn’t take credit cards. When we hit Bob’s last night, we were almost as relieved to find they took credit cards as we were to find steaks. This place is like the town plastic forgot. People just looked at you weird when you asked if they took credit cards. And, we never saw a bank. We had to keep going to Wal-Mart to get cash. Then, we discovered that the one bank in town had been robbed the week before. People, it doesn’t get much better than this.

Dinner was at the lone Mexican restaurant, which had a much-needed and much revered ½ price margarita special. Huge fishbowl margaritas! The locals turned out in large numbers for this event. That’s when we noticed that there were more liquor stores and bars in town than a town that small really should have…if there’s a limit or census number for things like that. There was a bar next door to Motel Hell, but we decided against frequenting it after we saw one of the patrons walk in carrying a shotgun.

Friday: Got done early and headed back to the airport. Inevitable flight delays, and our flight leaves about 1.5 hours late. And, guess who’s back? Yep, the snoring Colts fan. We recognized him by his jersey and his snore. I can never sleep on planes, because I’m afraid I’ll end up snoring like that and having everyone snicker at me.

I whined at the project lead (who we were observing) about the hotel, the smoke, etc., and she said she’d check on other options. The good news it that we’re going to be in a Hampton Inn for our next visit in a couple of weeks. It’s 5 miles away from a mall!!! Heaven, sheer heaven!!

C to the O to the L to the D...COLD!

Damn! I'm officially colder than I've been in a loooooong time. Me and my fellow work newbies are on an observational site visit somewhere in really freakin' cold Illinois...somewhere near Peoria.

Last week I asked the question along the lines of why the hell did I want to travel again, and I think I'll ask it again! Nothing quite like being in the only hotel in town for miles and miles and miles, in 10 degree weather, the chance of snow extremely likely, and the heater in my room doesn't seem to be working. I've had it on for about an hour now, and I think it might be 52 in here...might.

This is so not boding well for the rest of the week. The hotel is kinda scary in that sort of post-modern Bates kind of way. There's a little restaurant inside that has a big open window that looks out at the check-in desk. When we checked in, there was a group of old men sitting in there having coffee and just staring at us like we were aliens from another planet. You could sort of hear the banjos, or whatever passes for banjos in the wilds of Illinois.

The toilet in my room had an actual "Sanitized for Your Protection" strip around it. When was the last time you saw one of those relics? Hee.

On the plane, which was one of those 40+ seat jobbers, there was some guy who snored like a freight train. One of those snorers who sucks all the air out of the room kind of snorers. It was pretty funny, and is the A-#1 reason why I don't sleep on planes at any time. I'm afraid that might be me!

The Goldfish, aka Mr. Expensive, seems to be doing fine. He's back to jumping up and off of things with his usual devil-may-care attitude, no matter how hard we try to prevent him from doing such. He's been taking Rimadyl, which seems to be the wonder drug, and I'm seriously thinking about trying it myself. Who cares that it's a beef-flavored chewable tablet? If it has me hopping and bopping around like a poodle half my age, then I'm all for it!

More later in the week on my frozen adventures...

Monday, Monday...

(I know it's really Friday, but I had started this on Monday...really!)

And, it's like Groundhog Day all over again! It's Monday, and guess where we are again? Yep, back in the classroom. Thankfully, it was just for a department meeting, but then we had to meet with our supervisor in a conference room to discuss all the stuff we'd sat in the classroom listening to last week...whoot! And then, after lunch, we got to go BACK into the classroom and listen while the lesser new than us newbies did an initial call with a new customer. Aaauuugh!

Speaking of Groundhog Day, which I really do love, but not because of Andie McDowell, she of the godawful accent and one dimensional acting, one of our customers is in Punxsatawney, PA, and we've got a couple of peeps who are onsite there this week. The really exciting thing happened to them last week, when along about Thursday, the customer called to let them know that their hotel had burned. Evidently, there are only two hotels in Punxsatawny, and lodging is tight with the big fiesta coming up!

I jokingly made the comment about hoping it wasn't that cute little B&B where Bill Murray stayed in the movie, and someone else says, "you know, that movie was filmed in Wisconsin."
???

It was like someone said that there really was no Santa Claus or Bigfoot...I had always envisioned that little picket fenced hotel in a small Pennsylvania town, and how it might be cool to visit Punxsatawny for Groundhog Day sometime...kind of along the lines of that side trip we took to Chincoteague Island so I could fulfill my 10-year old self's dream of seeing wild ponies and where Misty lived, and my bubble was flat busted. Actually, according to imdb.com, the movie was filmed in Woodstock, IL., and Bill Murray was bitten twice by the groundhog during filming. This is what happens when you try to drive over a cliff with a groundhog who doesn't want to go over a cliff.

I know, I know, deep down inside, I know that movies are hardly ever filmed where it looks like they are set (how's that for sentence construction), but I guess that's part of the wonder and magic of the movies...kinda like the wonder and magic of books. Which brings us back to Misty and that ill-fated side trip to Chincoteague that wasn't really a side trip, but more like 4 hours out of our way, but dammit, when you are thisfreakin'close to fulfilling a deep-seated, long standing desire that you've had since you were 10 years old, 4 hours is nothing, baby, nothing.

As we are driving through the wilds of Maryland and Virginia towards "Pony Island," as The Man dubbed it, I tell him the story about Misty, and Paul and Maureen, and Grandpa Beebe, and the whole cast of characters in the books. (I think this is when the lightbulb went off that maybe, just maybe, his blushing bride was seriously touched in the head...and also went a loooong way towards explaining why packages bearing old withdrawn copies of children's library books bought on eBay kept showing up on our doorstep.)

We finally make it Chincoteague, which of course looks nothing like those wild and wonderful Wesley Dennis illustrations in the book. We go to Assateague, the barrier island where the ponies and the biggest damn mosquitos you've ever seen in your life live. We barely escaped with any blood left in our bodies after we stopped to take pictures at the Assateague lighthouse. And, the damn ponies were out in the middle of the marsh and refused to come closer for pictures. (My mother-in-law stops at Assateague the very next day, while coming home from the Outer Banks beach trip, and the traitorous ponies are the fence, practically posing for her. Grrr.)

We drive around the island, looking for the Beebe Ranch, because surely someone has turned it into a national monument. Can't find a thing remotely resembling a national monument. We stop at a little local restaurant and have some damn fine oyster stew, and I find a flyer in the rack by the ladies room and that mentions the Beebe Ranch and the "Misty Museum."

Finally! We are on our way back around the island to find the ranch. We had a veryclosecall moment when I almost wrecked the car by slamming on the brakes and veering wildly to the side of the road when I saw a little bronze statue on the side of the road that commemorated where part of the ranch used to be.

I get out and make The Man take pictures of it, because I can't see to focus the camera because I'm all teary-eyed, because we're actually here!! Where Misty was!!! Where I've dreamed of coming since I was 10 and discovered that little dog-eared paperback on Mrs. Freeman's 5th grade reading corner shelves.

We continue down the road until we find this little frame house with a sign out front that proudly proclaims it is the famous Beebe Ranch. For a national monument, it's looking a little worse for the wear and tear, and a lot smaller than I imagined it...

I hop out of the car and rush inside to see what they had to offer. Basically, it was a lot of clippings, some prints, and a few horseshoes. And the sign...the one that said, "See Misty," with an arrow. I think this must be leftover from the glory days when Misty really lived there, and even though the flyer had said something similiar, I had dismissed it.

The Man is wandering around outside and comes to tell me that they won't let him go in the barn, because "it costs extra." I want to know what's in the barn, and he tells me it's the horse. At first, I think it must be a descendant of Misty's, because while horses are long-lived, this book was written in the 1940s. Then, it dawns on me--she's gotten the Trigger treatment and they stuffed her! At this point, we have to leave, because I am just verklempt, to put it mildly. And, I've still not completely come to terms with it, even though it was 3 years ago, so we'll just leave it alone and go to our happy place--the Chincoteague of our 10-year old dreams.

Which is really where Punxsatawny Phil evidently wanted to go this morning, when he was hauled out of his hole and expressed his displeasure by taking a dump on the stage, according to the eyewitness reports of our folks on site in Punxsatawny. Way to go, Phil!

More next week from the wilds of the road--we're headed to rural Illinois, where the high will be 11 degrees...with a low of -2. Remind me why I wanted to travel again?

Train, train, train, training fools...

Well, maybe not fools, but I'm seriously growing attached to my chair in our corporate training room. We've got a relationship that seems to be much closer than that of me and The Man!

We're going on Week 4 of the Trainathalon, but this week is not so bad. We've got a couple of less new than us newbies who are doing a little teaching back (we call it "sharing") of one of the first training events that we will be doing.

So far, so good for them and us, because we're finally in a situation with a small group of people--our people!-- and we can ask all sorts of questions...or *I* can ask all sorts of questions to my heart's content. I must say that I have been the Chatty Cathy of the group this week, and I'm afraid I might get banned from the training room if I don't shut up--and then, where will The Chair and I be? It's rough having a forbidden love, isn't it?

But, I need to know! And, I need to know it now!...even though no one expects me to know for at least another month. Sometimes, that ol' Type A personality can get the best of you.

I've kept my hand in at Super Suppers, working one night a week and every other Saturday, and it's mainly because I really, really like those people. I was bone-tired this morning from last night's party, because our ladies wanted to stand around and drink wine all night. Note to the ladies: the busy bees who were working around you last night all have other jobs to go to in the morning and want to get out before midnight!! It really wasn't that bad, but since I have to drive about 45 minutes to get home, I was wound up when I got here (because there was no traffic and I could drive fast!!! Well, isn't that what a turbo is for?), so I had to read for awhile before bed...which, in the best Give a Mouse a Cookie vein, led to reading one more page , then one more chapter, then another chapter...until it was almost midnight.

Normally, I would have watch a little TV to nod off, but we're (The Man and I) at a standoff of sorts about the remote control. Seems a certain someone misplaced it when we were changing the sheets on Sunday night, and heaven forbid that we actually get up off the bed to change channels. The good news is that we found it this evening...under the Rickety Fat Dog's blanket, so all will be right in the world now that we can get a dose of The Daily Show before we doze off.

Speaking of poodles, the Goldfish has acquired a new name: Mr. Expensive. Saturday night, I was lounging in bed, reading, and the Goldfish was trying to dominate (read: hump) the New Hotness. Anyway, they were doing the Greco-Poodle wrestling thing a wee bit too close to the edge of the bed and fell off. It was pretty funny, because it was sort of in slow motion as they slid over the side. Anyway, they both seem to be fine, hop back up on the bed, and go on as before. Later in the night, the Goldfish seems to be a bit uncomfortable, so I figure he's a little sore from falling off the bed and I give him a Rimadyl for pain. Sunday, he's still not completely up to par, so The Man suggests we cart him to the vet in the a.m.

I get out of training class on a break to hear a voice mail that says the vet is keeping him for X-rays, which we all know means buckage. X-ray = thank heavens I went back to work so I could afford poodle upkeep. Long story short, the dog has cracked his pelvic bone where the muscle attaches to it, and it will take about 4-6 weeks to heal. In the mean time, we're to keep him from jumping, hopping, etc. to facilitate this healing. Easier said than done, my friend, especially when he's on the wonder drugs. He's crated during the day, so he at least gets a few hours of undisturbed healing time, and maybe that will be enough. Trying to keep him calm and sedate falls under the teaching pigs to sing curriculum. Like some of the rest of us, he's not quite come to grips with this whole aging process, and doesn't realize he's not quite super dog anymore.

That's all the news that fits from our little house on the ridge. I'll be hitting the road in a couple of weeks for my first observational visit, so I should have plenty to entertain you with from the wilds of lower Illinois. Hopefully, things will go well and not end up like this: