Under Pressure

Thanksgiving is almost here and already I've been forced to start thinking about Christmas. I just want to get past Thanksgiving; then and only then, can I concentrate on Christmas. One thing at a time. Please.

Our house is small and our family is large. This creates problems. There are 6 adult children, two with spouses, and three grandchildren. Last year, for the first time in years, we had all of them at our little matchbox home to celebrate. Add Rockband instruments to the space and it gets a little hairy.

Last year, I knew something in the "unpleasant vein" would transpire during the festivities, and that is exactly what happened. Our baby Chihuahua, Izzy, got violently ill. At the time, we thought she had swallowed a child's toy; however, x-rays, IV fluids, an overnight hospital stay, and $1000 later, we learned it was from eating too much human food. Tiny morsels were dropped on floors and chairs and couch cushions. No biggie, you expect stuff like that with so many people, except for a 6 lb. dog, it becomes a huge problem.

The unexpected $1000 was pretty unpleasant, but the thought of losing Izzy was too horrendous to consider. I would have prostituted myself to get her well. Not really. I couldn't earn much at this age and with my current body shape anyway. I jest. :)

This year Izzy will be crated. There will be absolutely no access. I will hire bodyguards if necessary. I will whisk her away to an undisclosed destination. She will enter the Witness Protection program. Whatever it takes. She will not be carted around like a rag doll, drooling over human food. Not one speck of chocolate or a microscopic cookie crumb will enter her field of vision this holiday season. Nope, not gonna happen.

Babe I'm Gonna Leave You

Remember "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" by Led Zeppelin? Well, before Jimmy Page got his hot little hands on the song, it was sung by Joan Baez. Listen to her version and explain to me how Jimmy and the boys created their masterpiece as we know it today:

This sounds like opera to me. Her voice is beautiful, don't get me wrong, but how did Jimmy create Zep's version after hearing that? I'm gobsmacked.

The song was actually written by Anne Bredon, a student at UC-Berkley. She appeared on a live folk-music radio show The Midnight Special on radio station KPFA around 1960, on which she sang "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You". A fellow folk singer developed the song further, which came to the attention of Joan Baez.

In my opinion, the song was always meant to be heard like this:

Phone from Hell

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you all know that I love technology. I embrace it even. I think my gadget-buying spree back in the spring proves that. The Polycom SoundPoint IP 650, however, is my first technological nemesis. From what I can gather online, this is supposed to be the latest, greatest thing to hit small businesses since computers, probably. After giving it my all the last 2 weeks, I've come to the conclusion that it's a complicated piece of crap. Either that, or Apple's intuitive interface for the iPhone, iPod Touch, and iMac has spoiled me rotten.

When a call came in on the old phone for my boss, all I had to do was press the HOLD button, intercom him and say something like, "It's Bob Vance from Vance Refrigeration on line 1." If he wanted to take the call, he'd thank me and press the blinking button. If he didn't want it, I would take a message. Yeah, the message taking part was a pain, so I was really looking forward to the promise of the PSPIP 650 because it was sold as the ability of transferring those pesky calls straight to voice mail.

Sounds simple enough, right? So NOT simple. When a call comes in and I hit the TRANSFER key a recording comes on and tells me I am unauthorized to do so. If I put the caller on hold, it will not show as a blinking line on my boss' phone. Some of the phones in our office can intercom hands-free, others cannot. Mine is in the no intercom category, naturally. There is also no way to tell if my boss is busy on another line. Just basic stuff you need to know or be able to do for simple phone routing. This system is anything but simple.

Today I had the solicitor from Let Me Pester the Hell Out of You Corp. who would not give up trying to get through to my boss. Because I couldn't transfer her, I had to physically walk into his office and tell him who was on the phone. His response? "Not interested." So I told her he was busy. She asked for voice mail. I gave the TRANSFER key a try. It didn't work so I decided to just hang up on her. With most solicitors this is a very effective tactic. She called back.

The phone does have one awesome thing that our other phone didn't have: caller ID. So when she called back the screen gave me the following options: ANSWER • REJECT • IGNORE. I chose REJECT. In theory, a rejected call is supposed to go straight to voice mail. Not my phone, oh no. It rang to another phone outside my office. I ran to that phone and hit IGNORE. I returned to my desk and she rang again. This went on two more times. I thought, 'well, at least I'm getting a little aerobics in'. There was quiet for about 5 minutes and I thought I had finally gotten the best of her.

Well, Bertha from Let Me Pester the Hell Out of You Corp. was having none of this runaround, so she called back, only my screen displayed "Anonymous". I answered the phone all cheerful, suspecting it might be her, and Bertha informs me, rather nicely, that she has been hung up on three times and she needs to talk to Mr. W. I explained that we had a new phone system and I'm very sorry but it appears our voice mail transfer is not working so I will have to take a message. This woman wasted all my time (and hers) to let my boss know about an upcoming Builders and Contractors Expo going on in our area. I felt like shoving my handset down her throat. And I am not a violent person.

Hurdy Gurdy Man

This is probably my favorite song from the sixties. It has that Indian, Eastern influence which gives it a psychedelic, trippy sound.

For years I never knew the definition of a Hurdy Gurdy man, but I sang along anyway. It was obviously a song about love and peace - the dominate theme of the sixties - and I was content imagining that the Hurdy Gurdy man was some Ghandi-like hippie who went around making everyone feel loved or sat around a campfire at night and passed around a pipe. Oh, and he sang songs of love.

Apparently, a hurdy gurdy is a musical instrument. From Wiki: The hurdy gurdy or hurdy-gurdy (also known as a wheel fiddle) is a stringed musical instrument in which the strings are sounded by means of a rosined wheel which the strings of the instrument pass over. This wheel, turned with a crank, functions much like a violin bow, making the instrument essentially a mechanical violin. Melodies are played on a keyboard that presses tangents (small wedges, usually made of wood) against one or more of these strings to change their pitch. Like most other acoustic string instruments, it has a soundboard to make the vibration of the strings audible.

Thrown like a star in my vast sleep
I'm opening my eyes to take a peep
To find that I was by the sea
Gazing with tranquility

'Twas then when the hurdy gurdy man
Came singing songs of love
Then when the hurdy gurdy man
Came singing songs of love

Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang
Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang
Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang

Histories of ages past
Unenlightened shadows cast
Down through all eternity
The crying of humanity

'Tis then when the hurdy gurdy man
Comes singing songs of love
Then when the hurdy gurdy man
Comes singing songs of love

Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang
Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy hurdy gurd
Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang

Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang
Here comes the roly-poly man
He's singing songs of love
Roly poly, roly poly, roly poly poly he sang
Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang
Hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy, hurdy gurdy gurdy he sang
Roly poly, roly poly, roly poly poly he sang

Close Call

Last night I was taking the last flight out of Baton Rouge with my youngest son, Michael, who was happily listening to music on his Shuffle. Halfway through the journey our "crop duster", aka American Eagle plane, took a sharp dive and started rocking from side to side. Michael's drink, as well as many others, flew up in the air and the sticky contents landed all over him and on my hand. Being drenched with Pepsi was the least of our concerns. Our hands became intertwined tightly, somewhat convinced we were going to plunge to the hard earth. It was like a roller coaster ride that seemed to last forever, when in actuality it only lasted maybe a minute or two. I was consumed with fear, hoping we would make it out alive.

Of course, we did make it through as evidenced by this post, but it made me think more about how fragile life is and how we take one another for granted, as though we'll always be able to see each other whenever we want, when nothing could be further from the truth.

I always thought that in this type of situation the first thing I would do is start praying to God. But I did nothing of the sort. Fear had truly consumed me and I am ashamed that I did not turn to the God I have leaned on and trusted my whole entire life. I think I need to reevaluate my relationship with Him.

After it was over Michael said, "I thought I was going to die listening to Lil Wayne. I mean he's from New Orleans and everything which is cool, but I wanted to go out listening to somebody of significance...like Jimi."