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I was mowing the grass this afternoon and as I went past the mulched flower bed I noticed a large brown mushroom growing there.

“Cool,” I thought, “I need one of those,”

And then I stopped and tried to figure out why I needed a brown mushroom.  I certainly wasn’t going to eat a brown mushroom growing in the mulch – sounds like a good way to die horribly.

After a moment, I figured it out.

I did need a brown mushroom.

In minecraft.

To combine with sugar and a spider eyeball to make a fermented spider eyeball.

I had come across a wandering merchant that was selling some nice stuff, but I didn’t have any emeralds.  He would give me an emerald for a fermented spider eyeball and I had everything I needed for that – except the mushroom. I made a mental note to keep an eye out for one and I guess I found it.

Though, I’m not sure how I’m going to get that to my crafting table.

Might be time to scale back on Minecraft for a bit.

My car has been making a rattling noise.  It’s loudest when I first start the car and then intermittently when I accelerate.  It oddly got a little better for a while, then it got worse.

I put off getting it checked – my car is a 2012 and I was worried about the expense – but I started to get self conscious about how much noise it was making.  I was also worried something would fall off while I driving down the highway. Or that the car would explode.

I planned on taking it to the dealership since I have a trip coming up soon and wanted it to be reliable, but even though I planned ahead there were no appointments until the middle of the week – when I would be expected to be in the office. 

So, I decided to try Midas again.  They are close enough to walk to and had a Saturday morning appointment available.   I booked it, got up early, and rolled into the shop – rattle and all – right on time.

They took my keys to bring the car in to check things out and I settled in with my book.  A few minutes later one of the technicians came in and told me it was the heat shield on the exhaust system that was loose.  It is secured with not-well-designed clips and while they could tighten, it would likely come loose in a few months again. Or, they could just remove it.

Since I don’t know neither diddley nor squat about cars, I asked what the consequences were on just removing it.  The answer was none – if it had been the heat shield on the gas tank they would have to replace it for safety.  But for the exhaust heat shield, no consequences. 

I gave them the green light to remove it and settled back down to read.

A few minutes after that, they were pulling my car around and I got up to pay. 

Instead, they handed me my keys and told me they weren’t going to charge me since it was just the heat shield.  They asked instead that I write a nice review for them on google – which I plan to do.

So, I rolled out of the shop after 23 minutes with a re-quieted car and no bill.  Who would have guessed?

I started going to a new dentist when we moved to our new home – though not right away.  I had stopped going to my prior dentist since it was a) now far away and b) the hygienist was so rough on me that my head would ache the rest of the day.  Also, the dentist was dismissive of me.

So, new town, new dentist.  And this one was only a few minutes away.  At the first appointment they noted my teeth were being worn down – which correlated with my morning headaches and sore jaw.   The dentist recommended that I get a bite guard to wear at night so I got measured for that.  With a device the size of an old TV remote they shoved in my mouth.

I got the guard – which was conveniently not covered by my insurance – and have been wearing it every night and cleaning it every morning.  It frequently makes me gag and some nights it has fallen out while I sleep.

The worst part is that it’s no longer doing the job 100%.

At my appointment this past week, the overly chatty hygienist  – seriously, it’s non-stop – was a little rougher on me with the picks and floss.  She was even rough with me on the polishing. I kept wincing in pain, but short of slapping her I’m not sure I could have gotten her to stop. No cavities, at least. 

When the dentist came in, I told her my concerns about the guard.  I was having bad headaches again in the morning and a sore jaw – even with the bite guard. 

She seemed concerned and poked around in my mouth for a few minutes.  Which included the only part of the whole experience that wasn’t miserable – she used a piece of gauze to get a good grip on my tongue to move it around and it was so silly it made me giggle. 

The result was that…they couldn’t do anything for me except give me a referral to a specialist.  Also close by, conveniently. 

And the referral was to treat me for TMJ – temporomandibular joint disorder.   Which I got diagnosed when I was a kid and told just stop chewing gum.

The morning after the appointment, I woke up so sore and with a headache that lasted hours.  Which is as clear an indication that I need to make an appointment as I’m going to get.

I dunno what I’m dreaming about, but it’s apparently stressing me out. 

There was a web comic a few years ago called Hyperbole and a Half.  It was a semi-autobiographical series done painstakingly in MS Paint by a very funny and odd woman. 

It was also my first exposure to the word hyperbole – which is basically a fancy way of extreme exaggeration. 

With my…well, let’s just tell it like it is…obsession with time, it makes sense that I would make liberal use of those in my conversations.  I’ve decided to quantify those measures below:

• Epoch = years ago, but feels like thousands of years
• Nanosecond = a few minute’s span of time
• 20 minutes = a wildly variable span of time – weeks to years – that feels like it was over before it started
• 100 years = another wildly variable span of time – hours to days  – that feels like forever.
• The rest of my natural life = any project without a clear deadline, but will take longer than I want to think about.

This blog, for example, feels somewhere between 20 minutes and the rest of my natural life. 

This past week I was wrapping up a day in the office and getting ready to head out.  As I walked down the hall, I heard a coworker say – quite loudly – that she didn’t know what her purpose at work was anymore. 

a)  that is a worrying thing to hear

b) that’s not the kind of thing you say if you want to keep your job

I stopped and talked to her about what she said and tried to commiserate.  A new vendor had been hired to help her with her job – but then her boss had given said vendor full control over most of what she had been doing.  It was a bad decision and had left my co-worker blindsided.

I didn’t have a lot to offer then, but I let her know I was thinking about her.  Then, I shunted this problem – how to help a purposeless colleague – to the back of my head and let my marvelous subconscious mull things over. 

Just before I went to bed, I got out a small piece of paper and a pen to take notes, then checked in on my subconscious to see what it had come up with. 

Like automatic writing, I scribbled down several ideas for her – then went to bed.

The next day, I fleshed these scribbled notes out to a full and well organized document – then asked her to stop by my office when she had a few minutes. 

When she got there, I apologized for not being more helpful the day before, but that I had some ideas that might help. 

I went over each point with plans and examples and she started to light up as the wheels began to turn.  By the time we got done with the document she was smiling and beaming. I emailed the document to her and told her in the note that she could reach out to me if she needed help getting started.

Today, while she was cleaning up her emails, she wrote me back and thanked me again for taking the time to share the suggestions.  She said that she left that brief meeting feeling inspired. 

I’m not her boss and I wasn’t able to help directly, but I gave a damn and tried to help – which is more than her boss did. It’s always a gamble to offer unsolicited advice, but this time it worked and I think I really had a positive impact.

It wasn’t much – just some notes and encouragement – but it was a good starting point for a new purpose.

It started on a Monday.  I was working from home and left to go run a short errand – 20, 25 minutes tops.  When I left, I went out the front door.  When I came back, there was a swarm of bees blocking my way.  

I studied this for a moment, then went around the side of the house to the backdoor to let myself in. Our front door is a turret and the upper floor of that is a bathroom. I could see bees out the window of the bathroom, starting to cluster, and my next stop was the internet to find an exterminator. I’m not allergic to or really scared of bees, but I didn’t know about Jim and I was worried. 

The soonest appointment I could make was for that Friday and I hoped that would be soon enough.

I told Jim that evening and we both decided to keep an eye on the bees.   He did a little research and found some local beekeepers that were interested in relocating them.  The bee folks came over and assessed the situation and said they would come back the next day. Inside, bees were starting to get in that window and the one next to the front door.  I put tape around the edges of the windows to try and keep them out. 

Things were the same Tuesday morning, but when I came home at lunch, things had changed. It was a hot day and instead of a few bees there was a mass of them in the corner of the bathroom window outside.  I updated Jim and he reached out to the bee folks.

I ate my lunch, told work I wouldn’t be back that day, and went to Lowe’s for supplies.  I got an orange cone, an orange flag, tape, fly swatters, and a Caution side.  I set up the sign – labeled “BEES!” –  at the end of the walkway and added the flag to the side. 

I didn’t want any amazon delivery drivers to get stung. 

I was taping up the inside of the windows better when the bee guy arrived. I told him I had to leave to take one of the dogs for a vet appointment at 3:00 and when the time came he moved his truck so I could get out. 

Things didn’t go well at the appointment and it was late when Jim and I got back. The bee keeper had rigged up a ladder/scaffold to support a bee box and had the window covered over with a mesh cone.  The idea was that the bees could get out, but not back in – and the queen would soon have to leave. 

He and his wife came back several times to check on the progress, but the queen wouldn’t move.  I took plenty of photos and kept the curious neighbors up to date. 

On Thursday morning, I called and canceled the exterminator  – figuring we’d give the bee keepers more time.  I saw my folks that evening and gave them the update.

On Friday, I was working from home and the exterminator showed up anyway.  I talked to him and explained the situation – and that I had canceled – and sent him on his way.

We met up with Jim’s family for dinner that night and updated them as well.

Over the weekend, the bees and the box weathered a storm, but still wouldn’t budge.

The beekeeper replaced the mesh cone with a plastic one and added more tape to limit the bee’s access.   Still no sign of the queen.

Not much progress through week two, but on Thursday the beekeeper was back with a jury-rigged bee vacuum. He worked for a while on that, made some adjustments, and said he would come back the next day.   Before he left, the neighbors next door stopped by and their little girl asked if I knew how to make an origami bee.  I said I didn’t, but that I would give it a try.

Today is Friday and the bee keeper is back with an improved vacuum. I’m off today for a holiday and while he was working I learned how to make paper bees.   He got a lot more bees this time and thinks by either tonight or tomorrow he’ll be able to get the rest of them.    I gave him a bee and then delivered one next door – and I’m now waiting for the wrap up.

If only that queen hadn’t gotten into the walls of our house, this problem would have been done by now. I’m a big fan of bees, but not as room-mates. Also, Jim is allergic – though it takes few stings before it gets bad for him.

I’ll update this as we go along and hopefully get it resolved. 

Edit: After thinking he was almost done, the beekeeper modified his bee vacumm and sucked up several thousand more bees. He’s still checking in twice as day. This is week three, I guess?

I was waiting in line at Target and the cashier was waiting on a mother and young daughter ahead of me. The cashier told the little girl she looked like Elsa – much to the little girl’s delight – and then offered her some target branded animal stickers.  Which produced a squeal of delight from the little girl. 

The mother thanked the cashier, paid for her purchases, and they were on their way.

My items were run up and I chatted with the cashier while she worked.  I paid for my items and the cashier wished me good evening.

“What? No stickers for me?” I replied, with mock seriousness. 

The cashier laughed and said, “I can give you a sticker if you want one,”

I laughed back and said I was only kidding, but she was insistent that I get a sticker.

I relented and she followed up by telling me that she would have to put the sticker on me.  

Still laughing, I offered the arm of my jacket and she stuck a sticker with a mouse on it.

She was very pleased with herself and we were both laughing as I left.

It was just a silly moment, but I think I made her day a little better.

I got another jury duty summons and made arrangements to take time off work and get a dogsitter. I’m glad to do my civic duty, but it’s always so inconvenient. 

I called Sunday night and Monday night as well and did not need to report – but I got a text message as I was leaving work on Tuesday that I needed to report in on Wednesday. 

And of course, the next morning was busy between trying to get ready and the dogs having issues. I had planned out my route and parking based on usual traffic and unusual detours and arrived at the court house well before the 8:00 start time.

I breezed through the metal detector, but nearly lost a ring.  (The security guard brought it to me in the jury room.)

I had my paperwork with me as instructed and went right up to the scanner machine to have my barcode scanned to check-in.  Easy.

Though, I was the only one that thought so.  Everyone else that came in for groups 1 through and including 8 struggled with one task or another.  Several people were there on the wrong day, one woman tried to get out of jury duty that morning, and no one understood the parking. 

It was after 8:00 and people were still arriving – I would have died to be late – and one of the clerks gave her intro spiel.  Which was the same info as on the paperwork, but whatever.  I finished my pop-tart and we settled in to wait.  

At 8:30 another clerk came to get prospective jury members.  We were told to line up in order of being called and to remember our numbers.  But, then didn’t tell us our numbers – inconveniently.

We managed to stay in line in order and then lined up in the hallway.  A few of us asked our numbers and we got that figured out – but then got yelled at by a guard to move out of the way as they transferred prisoners down the hallway.  But the clerk had told us not to move – so, it was a problem.

We stayed in line as they led us out of the building and down the block to the other, newer, building. Seems like that hadn’t been thought out well, but they had a process.

At least it was a nice day.

Once in the new building we breezed through the metal detector and half of us crowded into the elevator for the first trip.  After we were all on the same floor again we were escorted to the jury waiting room.   The clerk offered us doughnuts and said they might still settle – but otherwise we’d be called into the voir dire.

And then it was time to go into the courtroom.  We were lined up again and marched down the hall and assigned seats.

The judge introduced herself and the attorneys introduced themselves too.

The judge  – who I think I voted for, actually – explained the rules and asked a few general questions.   Then began a deeply cringy voir dire as the attorneys started to ask us questions. 

In a couple of minutes it was clear that they both tried to steer us into answering questions in a particular way – to then encourage us to hold the “right” opinion as much as weed out those with extreme views.

The public defender twisted my words on a question and though I was against what he was asking at the time he made it sound like I was strongly agreeing with him. 

They were both annoying.

As was one woman in the back who wouldn’t speak above a stage whisper and the guy next to me who belted out staccato answers to every question. 

When the voir dire was done they had a sidebar and then read the names of people who were supposed to stay.   They got their jury well before they got to me and I was not called. 

I gathered up my stuff and headed out – retracing my steps back to my car and then going on into work. 

I worked the day, checked the website again that night – but my service was essentially done.

It might have been an interesting case – angry drunk white guy vs. police with maybe excessive force.

And the highlight was while we were waiting to go into the courtroom I had a captive audience for some paper folding.  I like to think it made the time go a little easier for everyone.

So, that was the extent of my jury duty.  I’m off the hook again for a while.

 

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Yesterday, I got a letter in the mail from the office of the judge who had presided at the trial.  I am not afraid to admit I had a strong moment of panic and nearly cut myself on the scissors I used to wrench open the envelope.  

I assumed, of course, that I had somehow SCREWED UP (™) and that I should immediately drive myself to jail to be arrested forever. 

Which might have been overthinking it a bit.

Instead, it was a nice thank you (form) letter from the judge  She noted that I might be disappointed to have been dismissed from the jury, but being a part of this was an important contribution to the justice system.  I’m paraphrasing a bit – and I was certainly not disappointed to have been dismissed. A half-day of sitting around not working in the middle of the week was fine by me – but I’m glad that’s all it was.

I toyed with the idea of emailing the judge to see if I could learn the outcome – this was an option presented by the bailiff the last time I was brought in and dismissed from the voir dire – but ultimately decided to let it go.  Literally not my business and my curiosity is not that morbid.

So, no need to panic – it was just a nice thank you note. 

One of my coworkers and I had been talking about the “moon landing was fake” guy and how much he made us angry.  She messaged me yesterday with “You’re going to hate who’s out front on the sidewalk now,”

I got up from my desk, went up to the third floor – then out onto the balcony into the light rain.

Down below on the sidewalk, each with a sandwich board sign with graphic images, were 6 equidistantly spaced anti-abortion activists. 

They had rain ponchos on and one had a case of bottled water under his sign.  They were approaching people – primarily students  – as they tried to walk past. 

She was right. I hated them.

I glared down at them impotently for a few minutes, then went back to my office.

I messaged my co-worker back and we had a short conversation about how irritating they were and how they shouldn’t be bothering students. I told her that I was glad that at least it was raining – they didn’t deserve a nice day.

Later, I had to walk past them twice on my way to and from lunch. The young woman nearest my path kept lunging at female students to badger them into a conversation about abortion. 

I wasn’t her target demographic, clearly, and was ignored.  I tried my best to do the same.

I wondered if they constituted a nuisance – since that would get them kicked off of campus, even though it is a public space.  But, no.   I saw the chief of police on one of my trips that way and he had to have gone past them to get to where he was going.  If the chief let them stay, then they weren’t breaking any laws.

The only bright spot was a message written in chalk on the path towards the activists that simply said,

Ignorance ahead.

I imagine it was a smart young woman that wrote that; trying to combat fear and misinformation by ill-informed but persuasive zealots.   And I hope it helped warn other young women before they got sucked in.

They were gone the next day and good riddance. 

Jim and I were out running errands and stopped at a Panda Express for dinner. 

It was crowded when we went in and the groups in front of us had oddly complicated orders.  I usually get the shrimp, but couldn’t find it behind the glass and had trouble with my order as well. 

While we were in line, the volume in the restaurant steadily went up to the point that it was hard to hear the server and be heard as well.   When we finally got our food and sat down, it got worse.

The customers in line were loud. The servers were loud back. The cooking stations had multiple types of loud notification beeps.  The soda machine refilled itself with ice in the loudest way possible. The air conditioner had a rattle.  And the group sitting next to us were shouting at each other. 

I started to eat, trying to concentrate on the simple act of bringing food to my mouth and chewing/swallowing – and realized my hands were shaking.

Everything was so loud and overwhelming.

I wanted to shout at everyone to be quiet – even just for a moment.  I wanted to break all the machines and their endless beeping.  And I wanted to abandon my meal and just…run.

But, instead of doing any of those things, I just stamped an imaginary boot down on my anxiety and held it down long enough to get control of my hands and eat my dinner.

I’ve been skeptical of people that have sensory issues – thinking that in some cases they are just checking out on the responsibility of being aware of the world around them.   But, maybe I was in the same boat – if only for one meal at the Panda.

And maybe I need to start carrying earplugs.