. . . sewer hoses! And their contents.
I've discovered something of an emergency in my sewer line. Here's the long version of the story (because I'm constitutionally incapable of telling the short version of anything):
My brother parked my motor home way forward on my slip, so that the awning (once I decided that the winds had died down enough on a sort of permanent basis to put the awning out, since it's broken and not easy to put out and take down by myself) would shade the picnic table for my site. I think that was a good thing to do because I've heard that, once it gets warmer, it still stays cool at nights so that it's pleasant to be outside (and there are no bugs). So I have visions of taking my (large) laptop out to the picnic table of an evening and writing on a fairly regular basis. But that's another story. . .
Anyway, because I'm so far forward on my site, it's a looooong way from the black water and gray water tanks to the sewer dump. So my brother bought an additional 15-foot length of sewer hose, along with one of those expandable track thingees that you can prop the hose up on, so as to develop a sort of downward angle for the "material to be transported" to travel so that it doesn't pile up in the hose right at the motor home. Well, there are several things wrong with this scenario, it's turning out.
First, 30 feet of hose is about 10 feet too many. And second, those little track thingees, when they're made out of plastic, as mine is, don't hold up under the strain that the "material to be transported" puts on them. Last night, when I got home around 10 p.m., I noticed that my track thingee had contracted in some places, broken in one place, and the hose had fallen off it in other places. I decided not to tackle the problem at that hour, but today, when I went out there to reconnoiter, I discovered that the "material to be transported" had a VERY circuitous route to travel--and, bottom line, it was not moving. The hose at the dump end was very light, while the hose at the motor home end was very heavy--that was my first clue.
Well, I massaged (literally) and cajoled and manipulated and re-positioned that hose for a good half hour today, got it back up on the tracks, tried to convince it not to fall in and make little "U" traps every few feet along the track, and, holding my breath for fear it'd all collapse again, finally decided I'd made as obstacle-free a path as I could with as much of a downhill trend to it as possible.
So, thinking lovely thoughts about the whole process, I then went inside to check things out there. And discovered that there's still a major portion of the "material to be transported" that hasn't gone anywhere and is still sitting in the tank. I've tried flushing it out--my hose has quite a bit of water pressure, since I'm on the campground water system--but that's not very successful. And of course, it's now after 6 p.m. on Saturday night, so I'm going to have to wait until Monday to get plumbing help. I think I can hold out (I use the term advisedly) until then; I've decided I'll use other facilities (why not the casinos? I'm certainly paying enough for the privilege) as much as possible, and then we'll see what's what.
One simple answer (that is, it's simple if there's two of me, but not so simple with just one of me) is to move the motor home back on the site so that I only need one length of hose to reach the tank. But my brother has me up on a pile of orange Lego tiles in the front so that I'm level, and he has me jacked up front and back so that I don't rock, and I'm VERY reluctant to mess around with all of that. As I say, if my brother were still here, I'd do it in a New York second. But he's not, and I don't know anyone here well enough to ask for help. He's coming for the weekend of March 10--but I'm not sure I want to wait that long, if the problem continues. So we'll see how things have progressed on Monday, and maybe we'll call in the troops.
Another (little) problem: I finally connected with the young IT guy for the campground. He's an arrogant young man who knows his stuff but makes it clear that he only works 8-5 and won't answer the phone any other time and, if he works on anything else, it's for $50/hour, dammit, and not a penny less. Well, I finally got him to come and do the IT work (which is the campground's responsibility: getting me connected to the internet, which I was for the first day, and then wasn't for about 10 days). He made the HUGE concession of coming one evening and taking care of that.
While he was here, I told him that I wasn't getting the 28 cable channels I was paying for as part of my site fee. I also wanted to have a DVD player for the living room TV. "Well," he said, "I'd do it for you, but I charge $50/hour and it'd probably take 2 hours" (I could tell he was trying to scare me off)--and I said, "Done. And you get to buy me the DVD player, so that you'll know that it works, fits, and will do the job." "Ah, er, well, okay," he said, and you could see the dollar signs in his eyes. If he wasn't so cute, and so wet behind the ears as far as behaving professionally, and so good as far as knowing his stuff, I never would have pushed him on it.
Anyway, last Sunday, he was supposed to come but blew me off. Then Monday he was going to come, but I told him I couldn't get home until 7 p.m., and he said he had something going on. So Tuesday he finally showed up--10 minutes late, thank goodness, and not unexpectedly, since I didn't get home until exactly 6:30, as I'd promised. He had the DVD player (a $40 number that he'd bought at Walgreens, so I was happy with that--and he didn't charge me for the time he spent finding and buying it--ONLY because he didn't think of it, you can be sure!). And sure enough, he took about 1 hour and 45 minutes to do the job because it was such a mess up in that compartment. Audio had been wired into video, things had been wired to themselves, and NOTHING had been done in a straightforward and intelligent manner. And I believe that was really the way it was, because he showed me a lot of the problems that he found, and I kept hearing him say, "I can't BELIEVE it," as he found the next problem.
He worked very fast and very efficiently, and when the dust settled, I had 28 clear channels in the front (only 12 in the back, because the remote is gone for that TV and the universal remote that I bought won't allow him to set up the TV to accept the channels--which is not a problem). And I could have watched a DVD if I'd wanted to. I was so pleased, I paid him for 2 hours, and gave him an extra $10 to cover the cost of the tax on the DVD player and a bit of his time in buying it. We were both happy--and it was a pleasure to see that HE was pleased because he'd been so reluctant to do the job at the start.
Well, all of that was great, and through the week I've watched some TV. Last night, though, I wanted to watch a DVD, and I pushed all the buttons he told me to--and I can't get the DVD to show up on the TV. DOGGONE IT! I'm scared to call him and leave a message on Monday and say, "Please tell me again what the configuration is so that I can watch DVDs," because he treated me (probably with some justice) as a very slow-learning kindergartner when he was showing me how to get it to work. And of course it'll cost me. But I'm going to be brave and call him--I certainly don't want to wait until my brother gets here in 6 weeks!
Speaking of my brother, he called me yesterday to tell me that one of his friends up there in New Joisey wants to sell his motor home. He used it to go to car races all over the country, but he's not racing any more, and he'd rather have the money than the motor home. His wife doesn't feel the same way about it--she LOVES the motor home--but I guess he's calling the shots on this one, so. . . .
Anyway, for the guys among you who care about these things, I don't know what the make or model is (my brother's going to get me that info next week), but it's a 39-foot (mine's a 32-foot) 2004 (mine's a 1998) motor home with two slide-outs (mine has none), hydraulic levels, a rear-facing TV, and all the bells and whistles that he could get when he bought it. Also it has only 29,000 miles on it (mine had 39,000). Charlie says he's taken great care of it (the plastic is still on the carpets, as was the case with mine last spring), and paid more than $200,000 for it. He owns it out-right and wants, as I say, to sell it.
I'm just drooling over it, especially after I've spent a month in this one. I do have enough space in here, if I get rid of some things (for one thing, the 12 boxes of my mother's photographs and slides, which I have to start working on one of these days). But I have to say I'm getting really tired of having to walk sideways around my bed, remembering to duck so that I don't hit my head on the TV shelf, and only having 2/3 of the bed to sleep in, because the other third is serving as part of my clothes storage.
Anyway, since I always say, "Dream big," and since it doesn't hurt to ask, I'm going to the bank on Monday or Tuesday, to talk to "my" banker. I met him the other day, a really nice guy, who made me feel as though I was a valuable customer. I came in because a transfer I'd made in my accounts hadn't shown up as quickly as I thought it should. Turned out I was just impatient--it would show up in a day or so--so I said, "Well, I guess I didn't really need to come in," and he said, "Oh, but you did--so that we could meet." Well, that was enough for me: he is now "my" banker, in the way that Alice Jones was "my" banker when I lived back in Pittsburg. I felt I could go in there, put my problem or my plan to her, and she'd work with me to solve it or implement it. That was nice--but I haven't felt that very often. When I bought the motor home last May, the woman I worked with at the branch in Austin became a friend, a sort of "my" banker kind of person, but she got transfered, so that sort of fizzled.
Anyway, I'm going to go in and ask Dan Clark what he sees (now that I've got a big healthy bank account and a nice income) as the possibilities for upgrading. Charlie says I should fly up there and see the motor home--I'll be sold right away, he says: he's seen it. And AirTran, a new airline, I believe, flies right into Newburgh, which is 1/2 an hour from his house. So I'm thinking about it--very seriously. Of course, Charlie would drive it down here and get me set up again.
What do y'all think of that? I know there'll be a variety of opinions on this, and I want to hear them all--and then I'll do what I want, so be prepared for that!
Enough for today. For my next posting, I've decided to put up my 2006 Christmas letter. I only mailed out about 5 of them, and I wanted to mail all of them, but it's getting ridiculously late, so I think I'll just post it and y'all can read it or not, as you choose. And it has pictures! Later, guys. . . .
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Pretty in Pastels
It's been a week since I last posted. Time really, really does fly when you're having as much fun as I am. I have absolutely NO trouble getting to sleep these days; I can even fall asleep when my feet are cold, which was never true before. I'm not yet in the rythm of going to bed early and getting up early--I'm not usually in bed much before midnight, and once this week it was 2 a.m., so it's VERY hard to hop out of bed all bright and cheerful at 7 a.m. But I'm still working on it. Thank heavens the office is happy to have me there later in the afternoon in case stuff comes up and an editor is needed. Most everyone else is in there by 7:30 or 8, and they're on their way home around 5 p.m. But I stay (happily) until 6 or 6:30, and everyone's happy.
I got my first REAL report to edit on Wednesday. It's only 350 pages (the big ones can run over 1,000) but it's certainly big compared to the 15-20 pagers I've been working on. It's quite a challenge: the author is Chinese, although he's quite an exuberant and energetic fellow and I hear him talking all day long. His name is Fred and I like him. I think he likes me, too. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me coming at him down the corridor and say, "Hi Pat-sy!" He emphasizes both syllables of my (new) name as if he were trying it out. I love to hear him say it.
I'm compiling a list of questions to go over with him. He's quite attached to what he's written, so every change of any import at all is a big thing with him, so I'm going to have, as Ricky R. used to say, "a lotta 'splainin' to do, Patsy!" I've spent 2-1/2 days on it so far, with another 3-4 to go. But today, just before I left, one of the checkers came to tell me there's a higher-priority document that needs to be ready for review by the end of next week, so I'm leaving Fred for a bit (and believe me, I'll have a hard time 'splainin' that to him, too), and tackling Mike (hmmm, interesting image!). I'm really in the thick of things now--feels as though I've worked there for months instead of just three weeks.
Okay, you're probably wondering why the title. It's because of my drive to work. There are several extraordinary things about my drive to work. The first has nothing to do with colors, pastel or otherwise. It has to do with speed. So far, I've driven to work 15 mornings (and home most of those evenings), and with two exceptions, I've driven the 23 or so miles to work in about 30 minutes. Amazing! Why, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked, 'cause I'm gonna tell you.
I drive to work on the 215. That's how they talk about the main highways in this town. It's the 15, the 95, the 515, and the 215. The 15 pretty much divides the city, running diagonally from the southwest (my side of town) to the northeast. It parallels the Strip--and it is like I-35 and MoPac in the mornings: a parking lot. Thank heavens I don't have to deal with it. Coming home at night I get on it at exit 34, stay in the righthand lane, and get off at exit 33, and that's never a problem. When I get off it, I'm pretty much home, which is really nice.
The other major highways, I think, are similarly mobbed--at least, from what I can tell from the local traffic reports. But I avoid those, too, except for the 215, which I get on from the south end of the strip/Las Vegas Boulevard, which is the next street over from this RV park. My entrance to the 215 is at the same place as the entrance to the 15, which is directly under the traffic pattern for McCarren Airport. So here I am in the morning, driving east DIRECTLY into the sun for about a block, then turning north onto the Strip and driving for about four or five LONG blocks. Along this stretch of the strip is--NOTHING. Amazingly, much of this part of my trip is nothing but vacant lots, acres and acres of them, just sitting there, waiting (I assume) for someone to build a casino on them.
It's not ALL vacant, of course: there are lots of little stores lining the airport side of the road, and at one point there's the Las Vegas Outlet Mall, which is huge and may attract some of you to come visit me who aren't at all attracted by the casinos. Yes, people, there's an outlet mall within a mile or two of where I live. So come on down!
Anyway, I am now driving north on the Strip with McCarren on my right. And it--the airport--is RIGHT THERE. In fact, if I were to continue down the Strip, as I have done on weekends, past the famous "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign (which, my brother tells me, has been moved several times, because they keep building Las Vegas out in my direction), I'd pass a long stretch of tall black iron fence through which you can see the helicopters and private jets that are part of the Executive Park section of the airport parked right next to the fence. And the private jets come in right over the Strip, sometimes low enough that you think they're going to roll across the top of the car! Beyond them are the landing strips for McCarren, and sometimes, when the wind is right, the big jets come in over the Strip, too, looking for all the world as if they were going to crash into the big casinos that start RIGHT THERE, with Mandalay Bay the first one in line. That right there is an amazing early morning sight: a jet passing by the 15th or 16th floor (it seems) of Mandalay Bay Casino. If I haven't fully woken up yet, I do when I see one of those jets coming in.
Anyway, when I turn onto the on-ramp for the 215, I'm traveling right alongside all the people who have to take the 15 to get to work. And do I feel sorry for them! I sail down my long on-ramp alongside streams of cars that are slowing down and coming to a stop in order to try and insert themselves into the three packed lanes of traffic also trying to go north at a snail's pace. But (except for the two mornings when there were accidents on the 215) I can just sail onto MY highway.
As I said, that is one of the two things that is absolutely mind-boggling about my morning commute. I'm on that road between 8 and 8:30, which in any city is rush hour--and I have caught myself doing 80. On my way to work during "rush hour"!!! Amazing! Unbelievable! Astonishing! The 215, about 2 miles after I get on it, becomes the Bruce Woodberry Belt, and bless ole' Bruce's heart, I don't think anyone in Vegas has heard of it, because it's so UNcrowded. I love it.
The other thing I love is that, for the 20-30 minutes I'm on it, I am treated every morning to the most fabulous pastel views! Lovely vistas. I think this is true from most of the highways, but I think it's especially true of the BW Belt, the 215. The first thing that makes me catch my breath is the huge expanse of flat ground that stretches to the mountains, about 25 miles away. Las Vegas (as I think I said) means "the meadows," and it is literally a huge meadow of one-story dwellings and businesses. For pretty much 360 degrees, I could turn (if I weren't driving a car) and see "meadows" populated with low structures right up to the mountains, which suddenly jut out of the ground on all sides of this giant meadow. At night, if you can get above it just a little ways, which is easy to do on one of the highways, it's flat land for miles with a carpet of twinkling lights uniformly laid down on it.
But not all of the buildings are one story. I take the 215 north, then west, then north again, until I'm up in the Summerlin area, which is where my office is. I turn east at the Summerlin parkway, to the second exit, which is mine, and now I'm facing back into the heart of the city, and this morning, as is true most mornings, it was memorable. There was still a light bit of mist across the valley, sort of as in the days when people cooked over open fires and the smoke would kind of hang over the villages. And jutting above the film of mist are all the casinos, like 20 Gullivers in a land of Lilliputians. And beyond the misty meadows are the ever-present mountains.
So every morning, to get from my motor home to Summerlin in northwest Las Vegas, I have to drive around 23 miles heading straight into and along the most beautiful of the mountains (in my humble opinion). It wasn't until this, my third weekx, that I realized that, when I first get onto the 215 and look north towards my ultimate destination, there is only one building more than two stories tall, and it's the new Red Rock Casino, with a hotel about 15 stories tall. So it rises head and shoulders above everything else you can see. It is so amazing to me to look over there and see the place, 20 miles away, that I'm aiming for and to almost be able to trace where I'll be going--and then just sail along that road with nothing to impede me. It is some experience.
Oh yes, and the "Pretty in Pastels" title? Well, that is it in a nutshell. There is that whole beautiful view, that whole drive, and it's all done in the most gorgeous pastels. Pink, pale blue (a brighter blue in the sky, which is usually cloudless), light brown, sandstone, salmon, peach, and some actual red rock (dusty brick red) that I assume gave the Casino (and that whole area) its name. And along the highway, beyond its extra-wide shoulders, are stone fences (noise-proofing fences, I'd guess) with just a row of roofs peeking over them, with the roofs picking up both the jagged outlines of the mountains AND their colors.
My words don't begin to do it justice. I WILL TAKE SOME PICTURES, I promise. It'll be hard to get it in that early morning light (just as it's hard to get ME into early morning light). But I'll try.
Sorry, this posting is no shorter--it may even be longer--than the others. But I just wish I could convey the beauty that helps me to start off my day every day. Come and see me if you can't yet picture it.
Off to bed with me. I'm asleep at the wheel here. More next time on Las Vegas in the daytime.
I got my first REAL report to edit on Wednesday. It's only 350 pages (the big ones can run over 1,000) but it's certainly big compared to the 15-20 pagers I've been working on. It's quite a challenge: the author is Chinese, although he's quite an exuberant and energetic fellow and I hear him talking all day long. His name is Fred and I like him. I think he likes me, too. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me coming at him down the corridor and say, "Hi Pat-sy!" He emphasizes both syllables of my (new) name as if he were trying it out. I love to hear him say it.
I'm compiling a list of questions to go over with him. He's quite attached to what he's written, so every change of any import at all is a big thing with him, so I'm going to have, as Ricky R. used to say, "a lotta 'splainin' to do, Patsy!" I've spent 2-1/2 days on it so far, with another 3-4 to go. But today, just before I left, one of the checkers came to tell me there's a higher-priority document that needs to be ready for review by the end of next week, so I'm leaving Fred for a bit (and believe me, I'll have a hard time 'splainin' that to him, too), and tackling Mike (hmmm, interesting image!). I'm really in the thick of things now--feels as though I've worked there for months instead of just three weeks.
Okay, you're probably wondering why the title. It's because of my drive to work. There are several extraordinary things about my drive to work. The first has nothing to do with colors, pastel or otherwise. It has to do with speed. So far, I've driven to work 15 mornings (and home most of those evenings), and with two exceptions, I've driven the 23 or so miles to work in about 30 minutes. Amazing! Why, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked, 'cause I'm gonna tell you.
I drive to work on the 215. That's how they talk about the main highways in this town. It's the 15, the 95, the 515, and the 215. The 15 pretty much divides the city, running diagonally from the southwest (my side of town) to the northeast. It parallels the Strip--and it is like I-35 and MoPac in the mornings: a parking lot. Thank heavens I don't have to deal with it. Coming home at night I get on it at exit 34, stay in the righthand lane, and get off at exit 33, and that's never a problem. When I get off it, I'm pretty much home, which is really nice.
The other major highways, I think, are similarly mobbed--at least, from what I can tell from the local traffic reports. But I avoid those, too, except for the 215, which I get on from the south end of the strip/Las Vegas Boulevard, which is the next street over from this RV park. My entrance to the 215 is at the same place as the entrance to the 15, which is directly under the traffic pattern for McCarren Airport. So here I am in the morning, driving east DIRECTLY into the sun for about a block, then turning north onto the Strip and driving for about four or five LONG blocks. Along this stretch of the strip is--NOTHING. Amazingly, much of this part of my trip is nothing but vacant lots, acres and acres of them, just sitting there, waiting (I assume) for someone to build a casino on them.
It's not ALL vacant, of course: there are lots of little stores lining the airport side of the road, and at one point there's the Las Vegas Outlet Mall, which is huge and may attract some of you to come visit me who aren't at all attracted by the casinos. Yes, people, there's an outlet mall within a mile or two of where I live. So come on down!
Anyway, I am now driving north on the Strip with McCarren on my right. And it--the airport--is RIGHT THERE. In fact, if I were to continue down the Strip, as I have done on weekends, past the famous "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign (which, my brother tells me, has been moved several times, because they keep building Las Vegas out in my direction), I'd pass a long stretch of tall black iron fence through which you can see the helicopters and private jets that are part of the Executive Park section of the airport parked right next to the fence. And the private jets come in right over the Strip, sometimes low enough that you think they're going to roll across the top of the car! Beyond them are the landing strips for McCarren, and sometimes, when the wind is right, the big jets come in over the Strip, too, looking for all the world as if they were going to crash into the big casinos that start RIGHT THERE, with Mandalay Bay the first one in line. That right there is an amazing early morning sight: a jet passing by the 15th or 16th floor (it seems) of Mandalay Bay Casino. If I haven't fully woken up yet, I do when I see one of those jets coming in.
Anyway, when I turn onto the on-ramp for the 215, I'm traveling right alongside all the people who have to take the 15 to get to work. And do I feel sorry for them! I sail down my long on-ramp alongside streams of cars that are slowing down and coming to a stop in order to try and insert themselves into the three packed lanes of traffic also trying to go north at a snail's pace. But (except for the two mornings when there were accidents on the 215) I can just sail onto MY highway.
As I said, that is one of the two things that is absolutely mind-boggling about my morning commute. I'm on that road between 8 and 8:30, which in any city is rush hour--and I have caught myself doing 80. On my way to work during "rush hour"!!! Amazing! Unbelievable! Astonishing! The 215, about 2 miles after I get on it, becomes the Bruce Woodberry Belt, and bless ole' Bruce's heart, I don't think anyone in Vegas has heard of it, because it's so UNcrowded. I love it.
The other thing I love is that, for the 20-30 minutes I'm on it, I am treated every morning to the most fabulous pastel views! Lovely vistas. I think this is true from most of the highways, but I think it's especially true of the BW Belt, the 215. The first thing that makes me catch my breath is the huge expanse of flat ground that stretches to the mountains, about 25 miles away. Las Vegas (as I think I said) means "the meadows," and it is literally a huge meadow of one-story dwellings and businesses. For pretty much 360 degrees, I could turn (if I weren't driving a car) and see "meadows" populated with low structures right up to the mountains, which suddenly jut out of the ground on all sides of this giant meadow. At night, if you can get above it just a little ways, which is easy to do on one of the highways, it's flat land for miles with a carpet of twinkling lights uniformly laid down on it.
But not all of the buildings are one story. I take the 215 north, then west, then north again, until I'm up in the Summerlin area, which is where my office is. I turn east at the Summerlin parkway, to the second exit, which is mine, and now I'm facing back into the heart of the city, and this morning, as is true most mornings, it was memorable. There was still a light bit of mist across the valley, sort of as in the days when people cooked over open fires and the smoke would kind of hang over the villages. And jutting above the film of mist are all the casinos, like 20 Gullivers in a land of Lilliputians. And beyond the misty meadows are the ever-present mountains.
So every morning, to get from my motor home to Summerlin in northwest Las Vegas, I have to drive around 23 miles heading straight into and along the most beautiful of the mountains (in my humble opinion). It wasn't until this, my third weekx, that I realized that, when I first get onto the 215 and look north towards my ultimate destination, there is only one building more than two stories tall, and it's the new Red Rock Casino, with a hotel about 15 stories tall. So it rises head and shoulders above everything else you can see. It is so amazing to me to look over there and see the place, 20 miles away, that I'm aiming for and to almost be able to trace where I'll be going--and then just sail along that road with nothing to impede me. It is some experience.
Oh yes, and the "Pretty in Pastels" title? Well, that is it in a nutshell. There is that whole beautiful view, that whole drive, and it's all done in the most gorgeous pastels. Pink, pale blue (a brighter blue in the sky, which is usually cloudless), light brown, sandstone, salmon, peach, and some actual red rock (dusty brick red) that I assume gave the Casino (and that whole area) its name. And along the highway, beyond its extra-wide shoulders, are stone fences (noise-proofing fences, I'd guess) with just a row of roofs peeking over them, with the roofs picking up both the jagged outlines of the mountains AND their colors.
My words don't begin to do it justice. I WILL TAKE SOME PICTURES, I promise. It'll be hard to get it in that early morning light (just as it's hard to get ME into early morning light). But I'll try.
Sorry, this posting is no shorter--it may even be longer--than the others. But I just wish I could convey the beauty that helps me to start off my day every day. Come and see me if you can't yet picture it.
Off to bed with me. I'm asleep at the wheel here. More next time on Las Vegas in the daytime.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Heat
Isn't it funny how your perspective changes once you're not uncomfortable anymore? I was going to say "not cold" but I know there are many people who LIKE cold. I'm not one of them, as my journey from north to south over the years of my life will show. Anyway, today is my first (and possibly my last) three-day weekend, and I'm sitting here with the shades up and the curtains open in my motor home, and it's pretty nice. I'm even wearing a short-sleeved shirt (layers are very important in the cold!), and I don't think the furnace has run since around 10 this morning.
The sun is weaker today than it has been, as if there were a film of gauze over everything, but it's still strong enough to make me feel comfortable, and there's another 4-1/2 hours of it. Of course, the minute it disappears behind the large fifth-wheeler next door, it'll get cold in here pretty fast, but for now I'm enjoying it a bunch.
That's the thing about the desert, I guess, that it gets cold pretty fast. It's so funny to think I live in the desert. If I could have imagined my life even ten years ago, never mind when I was 15 or so, I couldn't have done nearly as good a job as the Great Daytimer in the Sky has done with it. I just wish That Guy hadn't always put so much of the wrong kind of food on my plate! And I hadn't always helped myself so generously!
Another thing that blew my mind occurred last night. I was looking at Google maps while I watched CSI (the new episode at 9 PST), and I was trying to find Wells Fargo bank locations (of which there are MANY here in Vegas--I forgot that Wells Fargo started in California and moved east to Texas). I was looking at a branch on Flamingo Road when someone on the TV said that a woman was plying her trade at the corner of Paradise and Flamingo. It amazed me that I was looking almost at that very intersection (in what I guess is a seedy part of town--I'm going to drive by there today to see for myself!) when the entire country focused its attention on it--well, that large portion of the country that watches CSI every week. How 'bout that! And I LIVE here!
I've got to go out and check the level of the propane tank. Yesterday when I went to work, it was just a little over 1/4 full. On Wednesday, I called the propane company that delivered gas on Monday 1/8, when we ran out. They're going to deliver here again on Saturday, and we talked for a minute about whether I could make it until then or should instead call whoever would be coming out on Thursday or Friday. We decided to live on the edge. And I think I'll be fine. At the rate the tank has been emptying, I won't use 1/4 of a tank in a day and a half, even if I ran it constantly.
Between my wonderful little ceramic heater and the sun, today should be nice and toasty--and then at 11 or so tomorrow, the tank gets refilled. At this rate, I guess my gas bill should be around $125 for the month (especially if it starts to warm up a bit), which, coupled with the electricity, will make it an expensive month in terms of utilities. But then I was told that everything is higher here, which is why I'm getting paid more, I expect. Whatever, things are going well and will work out, as they always do.
This is not going to be as lengthy as some of the other ones have been, since I've got to go to the bank today. Of course, if the posting is too long, you can stop reading at any point. That's what I tell my daughter when she tells me my blog postings are too long: "You can read as much or as little at a time as you want!" "Yeah, right," she says, since we both know that once you start something like reading a posting--any posting--it's hard to stop.
My brilliant idea last night, when I was talking to Jon-Michael on the phone on my way home from work, was to tell HIM to read the blog! He has to read something--anything--for 20 minutes every night as part of his homework (PART of his homework--and he's only in 2nd grade!!! TOO MUCH!). So I suggested that he read my blog and tell his mom and dad what I wrote. He thought that was a great idea. So do I. I'm just full of it--er, them.
Well, I'm going to quit for today, to honor my daughter's plea for Shorter Blogs. In brief, and bottom line, life is GREAT here in Sin City, I couldn't be happier, and I hope the same is true for all of you.
Oh, there is one bit of news that I'm hoping sort of goes away. There was a brief mention in a meeting on Wednesday of the possibility that our schedule will be changing: we won't be doing these 9/80 days (giving us every other Friday off); instead we'll be working 5/10s--which means we'll be scheduled for 50 hours every week--and no Fridays off. Of course, that's a guaranteed 10 hours of overtime every week, but it's going to be exhausting, I can tell, because, after 44 hours last week and 36 this week, I'm VERY happy for three days off. And I LOVED my days off last weekend. So I hope that schedule change doesn't happen.
No one wants it, but they're just real worried that we won't have this license application ready when it's due. When I bring my computer up in the morning, there's a countdown to the application date, and there's something like 530 days to go (529 today, I believe). That's a long time--but it's not so long when you realize how much there is to do and how many rounds of checking and re-checking and then checking again before each document that will be part of the final application is submitted as a FIRST DRAFT! Then there are comments and reviews, and another round of triple-checking, and another submission--and this can go on for several drafts of the same document.
That's another thing that makes me love what I'm doing. It really feels valuable, and I really feel appreciated. Those two things are important in one's work--good compensation and competency, both of which I have, are two more factors. I just feel so lucky that, at the end of my (checkered) career, I'm as happy as I am with what I've chosen to do with my life.
Not sure what I'll tackle next. Maybe Las Vegas by day--now there's a topic that doesn't get talked about much!
The sun is weaker today than it has been, as if there were a film of gauze over everything, but it's still strong enough to make me feel comfortable, and there's another 4-1/2 hours of it. Of course, the minute it disappears behind the large fifth-wheeler next door, it'll get cold in here pretty fast, but for now I'm enjoying it a bunch.
That's the thing about the desert, I guess, that it gets cold pretty fast. It's so funny to think I live in the desert. If I could have imagined my life even ten years ago, never mind when I was 15 or so, I couldn't have done nearly as good a job as the Great Daytimer in the Sky has done with it. I just wish That Guy hadn't always put so much of the wrong kind of food on my plate! And I hadn't always helped myself so generously!
Another thing that blew my mind occurred last night. I was looking at Google maps while I watched CSI (the new episode at 9 PST), and I was trying to find Wells Fargo bank locations (of which there are MANY here in Vegas--I forgot that Wells Fargo started in California and moved east to Texas). I was looking at a branch on Flamingo Road when someone on the TV said that a woman was plying her trade at the corner of Paradise and Flamingo. It amazed me that I was looking almost at that very intersection (in what I guess is a seedy part of town--I'm going to drive by there today to see for myself!) when the entire country focused its attention on it--well, that large portion of the country that watches CSI every week. How 'bout that! And I LIVE here!
I've got to go out and check the level of the propane tank. Yesterday when I went to work, it was just a little over 1/4 full. On Wednesday, I called the propane company that delivered gas on Monday 1/8, when we ran out. They're going to deliver here again on Saturday, and we talked for a minute about whether I could make it until then or should instead call whoever would be coming out on Thursday or Friday. We decided to live on the edge. And I think I'll be fine. At the rate the tank has been emptying, I won't use 1/4 of a tank in a day and a half, even if I ran it constantly.
Between my wonderful little ceramic heater and the sun, today should be nice and toasty--and then at 11 or so tomorrow, the tank gets refilled. At this rate, I guess my gas bill should be around $125 for the month (especially if it starts to warm up a bit), which, coupled with the electricity, will make it an expensive month in terms of utilities. But then I was told that everything is higher here, which is why I'm getting paid more, I expect. Whatever, things are going well and will work out, as they always do.
This is not going to be as lengthy as some of the other ones have been, since I've got to go to the bank today. Of course, if the posting is too long, you can stop reading at any point. That's what I tell my daughter when she tells me my blog postings are too long: "You can read as much or as little at a time as you want!" "Yeah, right," she says, since we both know that once you start something like reading a posting--any posting--it's hard to stop.
My brilliant idea last night, when I was talking to Jon-Michael on the phone on my way home from work, was to tell HIM to read the blog! He has to read something--anything--for 20 minutes every night as part of his homework (PART of his homework--and he's only in 2nd grade!!! TOO MUCH!). So I suggested that he read my blog and tell his mom and dad what I wrote. He thought that was a great idea. So do I. I'm just full of it--er, them.
Well, I'm going to quit for today, to honor my daughter's plea for Shorter Blogs. In brief, and bottom line, life is GREAT here in Sin City, I couldn't be happier, and I hope the same is true for all of you.
Oh, there is one bit of news that I'm hoping sort of goes away. There was a brief mention in a meeting on Wednesday of the possibility that our schedule will be changing: we won't be doing these 9/80 days (giving us every other Friday off); instead we'll be working 5/10s--which means we'll be scheduled for 50 hours every week--and no Fridays off. Of course, that's a guaranteed 10 hours of overtime every week, but it's going to be exhausting, I can tell, because, after 44 hours last week and 36 this week, I'm VERY happy for three days off. And I LOVED my days off last weekend. So I hope that schedule change doesn't happen.
No one wants it, but they're just real worried that we won't have this license application ready when it's due. When I bring my computer up in the morning, there's a countdown to the application date, and there's something like 530 days to go (529 today, I believe). That's a long time--but it's not so long when you realize how much there is to do and how many rounds of checking and re-checking and then checking again before each document that will be part of the final application is submitted as a FIRST DRAFT! Then there are comments and reviews, and another round of triple-checking, and another submission--and this can go on for several drafts of the same document.
That's another thing that makes me love what I'm doing. It really feels valuable, and I really feel appreciated. Those two things are important in one's work--good compensation and competency, both of which I have, are two more factors. I just feel so lucky that, at the end of my (checkered) career, I'm as happy as I am with what I've chosen to do with my life.
Not sure what I'll tackle next. Maybe Las Vegas by day--now there's a topic that doesn't get talked about much!
Monday, January 15, 2007
My Own Private Oasis
The question I'm asked most by people from other parts of the country (except central Texas, where I hear it's cold AND icy!) is, "Are you keeping warm?" Well, here at the Oasis RV Resort and Campground, things are pretty cold outside, but I'm keeping fairly warm inside. Yesterday, as promised, I did go get a space heater--at Lowe's, of course (keeping the profit "in the family," so to speak, since my son works at a Lowe's in Maine). And let me tell you, it's made all the difference! It's a ceramic heater by DeLonghi, and it's a beautiful appliance in every way: it has a very sleek design, it has high/low/automatic modes, it oscillates, it has an 8-hour timer, AND it has a remote! All this for only $24.99--it's been a long time since a product got my attention so thoroughly. This is one that does the job and does it well AND attractively! The last product that impressed me as much as this was my hand-held Yahtzee game by Milton-Bradley!
But DeLonghi isn't paying me for a testimonial, so let's move on. Let me tell you something about where I now live. It's one of about 15 RV campgrounds in Las Vegas, and I was right: they're all located somewhere near the Strip--and NOT anywhere near the Summerlin area where I work. I have a 20-mile commute each way, and as long as I'm in this motor home, that's pretty much going to be the story. I am very happy to report, though, that from what natives tell me, I've picked one of the best of the 15 places. A number of people have either stayed here themselves or have had friends/relatives stay here, and they pretty much unanimously recommend it.
So, since I'm here for at least the next three weeks, let me tell you a little about it. It's huge, for one thing: about 700 sites. I found out the other day that the really pretty ones (lots of trees, shade, etc.) are for the transients. The long-term residents--and I'm far from the only one who's living in a motor home and working full-time somewhere in the city--are grouped together in an area that the transients never see. There are only occasional trees, and there is still a lot of coming and going, even though RVs here stay longer. But, since I'm not here most of the time, I'm not too worried about it. I may change my mind when it warms up (which will be soon, I hope!), but for now, it's fine.
There is a huge clubhouse in the middle of the campground. It's trying to be a glamorous resort-type building, but it's just a little bit past its prime and trying just a bit too hard. There's a ballroom and a bar (I hear), with live music on Fridays and Saturdays. That's not something that would draw me, but it's here for those who do like it. There are two pools (I've seen one), though they're the last thing I'm interested in these days! There's a deli there--complete with 8 slot machines! Tuesdays and Thursdays, you can play Texas Hold 'Em poker at either of two poker tables that are set up in the main lobby. When I was in there on Thursday paying my mailbox fee, there was a grandmother playing while she babysat her little granddaughter--and everyone was happy and having a great time. Sort of family night!
Tonight I did my laundry at one of the four "comfort stations," though I wouldn't say that was the most appropriate name for them. My brother showered down there and said the showers were very nice (mine here in the motor home was just too small for him). And the laundromat was certainly adequate, with four washers and dryers, but it was pretty cold in there.
Oh, and I should say there's security 24/7 around here: you have to stop at the entrance when you're entering, so that they can read the tag on your windshield and wave you in. And there are two or three security vehicles that are constantly making the rounds here. I certainly feel
Okay, so that's a bit about this place. However, I have to tell you, I'm only giving it a grade of C+. And that's because I'm paying for 28 cable channels as part of my site rent, and I gave them an extra $80 for 3 months of high-speed internet--and after 10 days, I don't have either one! There is evidently an on-site IT person (the son of one of the managers), but he only works 8-5 each day (and not on weekends), and of course I'm gone from 7:30 to 6 every day. Clearly someone has to give here, and it can't be me. I'm going to give him one more chance to give me an evening appointment, and if it doesn't work out, I'm going to get my money back for the wireless and have something taken off my site rent for the cable. I have my Sprint PC card, so I can get on the internet without their wireless feature (though it's twice as expensive), and I can get a few (snowy) local channels--enough for what little TV watching I do. I’ll keep you posted on this one!
Enough for now. Soon (when it warms up and there's daylight when I get home from work) I'll have some pictures of this fantastic area. For now, though, take my word that even a commute to work is exciting when you've got the 360-degree mountain vista to admire every morning! I’ll tell you something about the Yucca Mountain Project itself in my next posting. It’s quite a place!
But DeLonghi isn't paying me for a testimonial, so let's move on. Let me tell you something about where I now live. It's one of about 15 RV campgrounds in Las Vegas, and I was right: they're all located somewhere near the Strip--and NOT anywhere near the Summerlin area where I work. I have a 20-mile commute each way, and as long as I'm in this motor home, that's pretty much going to be the story. I am very happy to report, though, that from what natives tell me, I've picked one of the best of the 15 places. A number of people have either stayed here themselves or have had friends/relatives stay here, and they pretty much unanimously recommend it.
So, since I'm here for at least the next three weeks, let me tell you a little about it. It's huge, for one thing: about 700 sites. I found out the other day that the really pretty ones (lots of trees, shade, etc.) are for the transients. The long-term residents--and I'm far from the only one who's living in a motor home and working full-time somewhere in the city--are grouped together in an area that the transients never see. There are only occasional trees, and there is still a lot of coming and going, even though RVs here stay longer. But, since I'm not here most of the time, I'm not too worried about it. I may change my mind when it warms up (which will be soon, I hope!), but for now, it's fine.
There is a huge clubhouse in the middle of the campground. It's trying to be a glamorous resort-type building, but it's just a little bit past its prime and trying just a bit too hard. There's a ballroom and a bar (I hear), with live music on Fridays and Saturdays. That's not something that would draw me, but it's here for those who do like it. There are two pools (I've seen one), though they're the last thing I'm interested in these days! There's a deli there--complete with 8 slot machines! Tuesdays and Thursdays, you can play Texas Hold 'Em poker at either of two poker tables that are set up in the main lobby. When I was in there on Thursday paying my mailbox fee, there was a grandmother playing while she babysat her little granddaughter--and everyone was happy and having a great time. Sort of family night!
Tonight I did my laundry at one of the four "comfort stations," though I wouldn't say that was the most appropriate name for them. My brother showered down there and said the showers were very nice (mine here in the motor home was just too small for him). And the laundromat was certainly adequate, with four washers and dryers, but it was pretty cold in there.
Oh, and I should say there's security 24/7 around here: you have to stop at the entrance when you're entering, so that they can read the tag on your windshield and wave you in. And there are two or three security vehicles that are constantly making the rounds here. I certainly feel
Okay, so that's a bit about this place. However, I have to tell you, I'm only giving it a grade of C+. And that's because I'm paying for 28 cable channels as part of my site rent, and I gave them an extra $80 for 3 months of high-speed internet--and after 10 days, I don't have either one! There is evidently an on-site IT person (the son of one of the managers), but he only works 8-5 each day (and not on weekends), and of course I'm gone from 7:30 to 6 every day. Clearly someone has to give here, and it can't be me. I'm going to give him one more chance to give me an evening appointment, and if it doesn't work out, I'm going to get my money back for the wireless and have something taken off my site rent for the cable. I have my Sprint PC card, so I can get on the internet without their wireless feature (though it's twice as expensive), and I can get a few (snowy) local channels--enough for what little TV watching I do. I’ll keep you posted on this one!
Enough for now. Soon (when it warms up and there's daylight when I get home from work) I'll have some pictures of this fantastic area. For now, though, take my word that even a commute to work is exciting when you've got the 360-degree mountain vista to admire every morning! I’ll tell you something about the Yucca Mountain Project itself in my next posting. It’s quite a place!
Tuesday, January 9, 2007
Hard at work--NOT!
Well, I lied. I said this post would be about the RV park where I'm staying, but I think instead it'll be about my job, which is now two days along. In some ways, it already feels like an old comfortable shoe, but in other ways, the fun hasn't even begun yet.
My first day on the job was yesterday, Monday, January 8. As my brother pointed out, since I'd have to get up early, I wouldn't be able to stay up until my usual 3 a.m. I agreed, but let me tell you, it was hard to shut down my world by midnight on Sunday and try to get some sleep. Actually, I didn't get to bed until closer to 12:30, and I didn't get to sleep until after 2:30 a.m. I don't know what it is, but sometimes, when there's something exciting going to happen the next day, I just can't force my mind to slow down and turn off.
Anyway, I set the alarm for 5:30, since I had to take Charlie to the airport to catch a 7:55 a.m. plane back to New Jersey. About 5:28, he woke me up, apologizing for being so early, to tell me that the motor home was freezing, and the heater was blowing ice cold air. I mumbled something about us being out of gas, but he said no, he'd checked it when we got here and we had half a tank. However, just to accommodate me, he went outside with the flashlight and checked it--and, of course, it was empty. Mystery solved.
Problem remains: he's leaving, he's got me all nicely balanced and jacked up, and I do NOT want to have to drive this thing over to the propane station when I get home from work, fill 'er up, and then come back here and try to balance me again. I almost paid to change Charlie's flight to 1:20 p.m. so he could stay here for the morning, do the dirty work, and then take a taxi ($5) to the airport. But we decided that someone in this town had to make "house calls" for LP gas, and we started calling. We found someone and I planned to call at 8 a.m. (it was then 6:30 a.m.). Charlie went over to one of the community showers to make his ablutions (he reported that they are very nice), while I (with no hot water) chose to remain among the unwashed.
On the way out of the park, we stopped at the sentry's post (we have 24/7 security here), told them of our problem, and they said there are 3 companies that schedule trips out here, but that we needed to call Vegas Propane (and they gave us the number), because THEY were coming that very day! Huzzah!!! I called them, gave them a credit card (they told me the gas would be $3/gallon--I'd have paid TWICE that for the service), told them my lot number, and shure enough, when I got home last night, there was a bill for $63.60 in my door. LOVELY!!! And it was warm in here, to boot!
Okay, I know, I know, that wasn't about work--but it certainly was on my mind through my whole work day, so I'm sharing it. Anyway, we had time before Charlie's plane, so he treated me to breakfast at IHOP, and then I dropped him off at the airport. On the way out of the airport, you drive through a long tunnel, and while I was driving through that tunnel, my car's odometer rolled over from 89,999 to 90,000. A moment to remember! At 91,000, I need another oil change, and I'm going to have the brake fluid checked. And close to 100,000, I'm going to have the 90,000-mile checkup performed. Kurtis Weger tells me this should make my car purr for at least another 50,000 miles. Bless Kurtis!
The trip up to the office was lovely. I'm now dealing with a 23-mile commute (one-way) and my reaction to that is a happy one: Now I can listen to all my audible.com downloads, since I'll be in the car for 20 minutes each way. That's good thing, as Martha would say. I even took a bit of a shortcut on faith (and turned the 23 miles into more like 19 or 20), and found it to be lovely: a 6-lane boulevard through a lovely residential area with almost no one on the roads at that hour. And they use traffic circles in many places along that road to avoid the long lights that Vegas (and Austin) are famous for. I love traffic circles; they use them everywhere in the UK, and I really enjoyed them (when I wasn't white-knuckled, sure that the car next to us was going to turn right into us! They never did, though!).
I had to go to the main entrance to the compound (there are four buildings in that particular area, more elsewhere that are related) to get a visitor's pass. You walk in this gorgeous turquoise glass-fronted building, expecting a reception desk, etc.--and there's nothing there but a couple of double doors--both sets shut tight. It took a while for me to decide that I had to somehow get through one of them (it was marked Suite 100, which was where I was supposed to go). I finally pushed enough buttons and/or screamed loudly enough that a scratchy voice came through an intercom and told me the door was open and I could enter.
That was the hardest part of the day. They had a pass all ready for me, and within 5 minutes of the receptionist's call, a woman named Patti showed up to escort me back to Building 1, which is where I'll be living from now on--for most of the daylight hours, anyway--all of them in January, in fact! She was a tall flighty girl who kept starting sentences that I thought would be very informative and interesting--and then dropping them by the wayside and starting another one. She turns out to be my OMA (we're in the Land of Acronyms, people--that's LOA to you!): Office Management Assistant, I think it means. But I've decided that, nice as she is, I'm going to have to go to other people (who actually complete sentences) if I really want information!
Anyway, we walked in the front door of Building 1 (also lovely turquoise glass-fronted, but not a two-story front, just a one-story one), and Patti introduced me to the two people standing there: Patty and Cookie. Whoops, I thought, right here there are three people named Pat/Patti/Patty. This could get confusing. Well, hold on to your hats, people, because yesterday I met Pat (male) who delivers the computer equipment, Patricia (in the next cubicle--haven't met her, but she's coming), and Patrice, who's in the Human Resources area. Then today I met another Pat (a man, also an Intera employee--Intera is the company in Austin that I once worked for and that promoted me for this job and actually pays my salary) and another Pat (a man) who used to work at Intera Austin and whom I loved (he's about 25 now, and lives in Vegas and works for another company but on the same project), and someone told me about another Patricia.
All right, if you're counting, I think that's 8--and that's only the ones I've heard of. I'm sure there are more. Anyway, I'm taking this seriously, and I'm going to do something about it. I'm officially changing my name--to Patsy! I decided a couple of days ago that my mother, bless her heart, had named all her dolls Patsy, and when I came along, her first REAL doll, she named me Patsy, too, because she loved the name. Suddenly, now that she's gone, I've decided that I should honor her by taking that name. I mentioned it to a Human Resources person I was talking to today (NOT a Pat--this was a Jo Ann), and she thought it was a great idea. She took me around to meet a few other people, and always introduced me as Patsy--even when I forgot and called myself Pat Shepherd.
Bottom line, people: I started this blog the other day as Pat Shepherd of Austin, TX, and I have completely sloughed off that identity. I am now Patsy Shepherd of Las Vegas. Put that in your PDAs, your Rolodexes, and your cell phones. I'm not going to even turn around if I hear "Pat," but I'll pirouette when I hear "Patsy." Unless you're calling me for a meal--then you can call me Lester or Hildegarde or whatever! I'm there!
Okay, okay, back to work. Well, there isn't any. For me, anyway. I can't log on to my computer until I'm set up with passwords, etc., and there's some kind of inter-company competition going on. Seems that the prime contractor for this job (Bechtel SAIC Company is its name, BSC) switched last October 2 to Sandia National Laboratory (Lead Lab or LL is how they refer to themselves), and the transition is still going on. Sandia (LL) hasn't yet got a team of IT people here to make all the computer changes that need to happen, and BSC won't share the IT people who used to be in charge of everything here. So some of us new people are just sitting on our thumbs staring at blank computer screens.
That would be me. Yesterday, one of the editors gave me a couple of documents that had been edited, so that I could look at them and see what will be expected of me. I've more or less done that. And today some huge deadline hit the fan unexpectedly and everyone is running around (and working late tonight) over that. But I had to just sit there most of the day yesterday and all day today and listen to all the talk about what was needed, what was missing, whether or not they could actually finish the job, etc. I asked 2-3 times if I could work offline, on a paper copy of the document, but that evidently doesn't help them. They were delighted I wanted to help and very sad that I couldn't.
I wish I could have, because, judging by what I've read of the edited documents, I'm very familiar with what they're doing, the style they're using, and the things they're looking for. I will be a helpful addition to the force, I can guarantee, once I'm online. That COULD happen as early as tomorrow--or not until next week. Meanwhile, I've got literally nothing to do. And, since I only got about 6 hours of sleep last night, I'm still pretty tired and I found myself nodding off in my little cubicle a couple of times. Very embarrassing! Pat, the equipment guy, picked both of those times to come up behind me and wake me up: once to deliver a foot rest, the second time to replace my old keyboard with an ergonomically correct one. My back is to the door of the cubicle, and those of you who know me well know I never hear someone coming up behind me and I JUMP!!! Well, in these cases, I woke up! I don't think he even realized it, but I've got to do something about that. I've seen several other people with these little silver convex mirrors that sit on your desk so that you can see if there's someone behind you. I've got to find out tomorrow where I can get one of those!
Okay, for those of you who need it, my work phone is 702-295-5434, and it rings right at my desk, and I can talk--at least, I can talk about stuff that I don't care if 40 other people here. As you probably know, NOTHING is private in the Land of Cubicles (LOC), so if you need to call, be sure you ask questions that I don't have to answer with things like, "Oh, you poor baby, and what did the minister say after he picked you up off the floor?"
And for now that's it as far as work goes. I am on the schedule that allows me to have every other Friday off, so I'll be working Friday this week and I'll have next Friday (the 19th) off--unless we're swamped. They ask that you use your discretion: if there's work that needs to get out, then you come in and do it; and, of course, since I'm going to get overtime pay, I'll happily do that. I'd do it anyway, but it is nice to be paid for it.
Next Monday I spend 8 hours in what they call GET, General Education and Training, which everyone goes through. I'll learn about the project and about all the safety concerns (safety is major here), and other general stuff. Other than that, I'm just hanging in there until I get online. And then I expect I'll have no trouble staying busy and awake!
More later. I think next it will be about the RV park. Wish I were here in the daylight to take some pictures. I'll work on that. And I have to tell you about our forays into the City of Light. It's very true, you know, what they say: The money you bring to Vegas STAYS in Vegas. But that is a story for another day. . . .
My first day on the job was yesterday, Monday, January 8. As my brother pointed out, since I'd have to get up early, I wouldn't be able to stay up until my usual 3 a.m. I agreed, but let me tell you, it was hard to shut down my world by midnight on Sunday and try to get some sleep. Actually, I didn't get to bed until closer to 12:30, and I didn't get to sleep until after 2:30 a.m. I don't know what it is, but sometimes, when there's something exciting going to happen the next day, I just can't force my mind to slow down and turn off.
Anyway, I set the alarm for 5:30, since I had to take Charlie to the airport to catch a 7:55 a.m. plane back to New Jersey. About 5:28, he woke me up, apologizing for being so early, to tell me that the motor home was freezing, and the heater was blowing ice cold air. I mumbled something about us being out of gas, but he said no, he'd checked it when we got here and we had half a tank. However, just to accommodate me, he went outside with the flashlight and checked it--and, of course, it was empty. Mystery solved.
Problem remains: he's leaving, he's got me all nicely balanced and jacked up, and I do NOT want to have to drive this thing over to the propane station when I get home from work, fill 'er up, and then come back here and try to balance me again. I almost paid to change Charlie's flight to 1:20 p.m. so he could stay here for the morning, do the dirty work, and then take a taxi ($5) to the airport. But we decided that someone in this town had to make "house calls" for LP gas, and we started calling. We found someone and I planned to call at 8 a.m. (it was then 6:30 a.m.). Charlie went over to one of the community showers to make his ablutions (he reported that they are very nice), while I (with no hot water) chose to remain among the unwashed.
On the way out of the park, we stopped at the sentry's post (we have 24/7 security here), told them of our problem, and they said there are 3 companies that schedule trips out here, but that we needed to call Vegas Propane (and they gave us the number), because THEY were coming that very day! Huzzah!!! I called them, gave them a credit card (they told me the gas would be $3/gallon--I'd have paid TWICE that for the service), told them my lot number, and shure enough, when I got home last night, there was a bill for $63.60 in my door. LOVELY!!! And it was warm in here, to boot!
Okay, I know, I know, that wasn't about work--but it certainly was on my mind through my whole work day, so I'm sharing it. Anyway, we had time before Charlie's plane, so he treated me to breakfast at IHOP, and then I dropped him off at the airport. On the way out of the airport, you drive through a long tunnel, and while I was driving through that tunnel, my car's odometer rolled over from 89,999 to 90,000. A moment to remember! At 91,000, I need another oil change, and I'm going to have the brake fluid checked. And close to 100,000, I'm going to have the 90,000-mile checkup performed. Kurtis Weger tells me this should make my car purr for at least another 50,000 miles. Bless Kurtis!
The trip up to the office was lovely. I'm now dealing with a 23-mile commute (one-way) and my reaction to that is a happy one: Now I can listen to all my audible.com downloads, since I'll be in the car for 20 minutes each way. That's good thing, as Martha would say. I even took a bit of a shortcut on faith (and turned the 23 miles into more like 19 or 20), and found it to be lovely: a 6-lane boulevard through a lovely residential area with almost no one on the roads at that hour. And they use traffic circles in many places along that road to avoid the long lights that Vegas (and Austin) are famous for. I love traffic circles; they use them everywhere in the UK, and I really enjoyed them (when I wasn't white-knuckled, sure that the car next to us was going to turn right into us! They never did, though!).
I had to go to the main entrance to the compound (there are four buildings in that particular area, more elsewhere that are related) to get a visitor's pass. You walk in this gorgeous turquoise glass-fronted building, expecting a reception desk, etc.--and there's nothing there but a couple of double doors--both sets shut tight. It took a while for me to decide that I had to somehow get through one of them (it was marked Suite 100, which was where I was supposed to go). I finally pushed enough buttons and/or screamed loudly enough that a scratchy voice came through an intercom and told me the door was open and I could enter.
That was the hardest part of the day. They had a pass all ready for me, and within 5 minutes of the receptionist's call, a woman named Patti showed up to escort me back to Building 1, which is where I'll be living from now on--for most of the daylight hours, anyway--all of them in January, in fact! She was a tall flighty girl who kept starting sentences that I thought would be very informative and interesting--and then dropping them by the wayside and starting another one. She turns out to be my OMA (we're in the Land of Acronyms, people--that's LOA to you!): Office Management Assistant, I think it means. But I've decided that, nice as she is, I'm going to have to go to other people (who actually complete sentences) if I really want information!
Anyway, we walked in the front door of Building 1 (also lovely turquoise glass-fronted, but not a two-story front, just a one-story one), and Patti introduced me to the two people standing there: Patty and Cookie. Whoops, I thought, right here there are three people named Pat/Patti/Patty. This could get confusing. Well, hold on to your hats, people, because yesterday I met Pat (male) who delivers the computer equipment, Patricia (in the next cubicle--haven't met her, but she's coming), and Patrice, who's in the Human Resources area. Then today I met another Pat (a man, also an Intera employee--Intera is the company in Austin that I once worked for and that promoted me for this job and actually pays my salary) and another Pat (a man) who used to work at Intera Austin and whom I loved (he's about 25 now, and lives in Vegas and works for another company but on the same project), and someone told me about another Patricia.
All right, if you're counting, I think that's 8--and that's only the ones I've heard of. I'm sure there are more. Anyway, I'm taking this seriously, and I'm going to do something about it. I'm officially changing my name--to Patsy! I decided a couple of days ago that my mother, bless her heart, had named all her dolls Patsy, and when I came along, her first REAL doll, she named me Patsy, too, because she loved the name. Suddenly, now that she's gone, I've decided that I should honor her by taking that name. I mentioned it to a Human Resources person I was talking to today (NOT a Pat--this was a Jo Ann), and she thought it was a great idea. She took me around to meet a few other people, and always introduced me as Patsy--even when I forgot and called myself Pat Shepherd.
Bottom line, people: I started this blog the other day as Pat Shepherd of Austin, TX, and I have completely sloughed off that identity. I am now Patsy Shepherd of Las Vegas. Put that in your PDAs, your Rolodexes, and your cell phones. I'm not going to even turn around if I hear "Pat," but I'll pirouette when I hear "Patsy." Unless you're calling me for a meal--then you can call me Lester or Hildegarde or whatever! I'm there!
Okay, okay, back to work. Well, there isn't any. For me, anyway. I can't log on to my computer until I'm set up with passwords, etc., and there's some kind of inter-company competition going on. Seems that the prime contractor for this job (Bechtel SAIC Company is its name, BSC) switched last October 2 to Sandia National Laboratory (Lead Lab or LL is how they refer to themselves), and the transition is still going on. Sandia (LL) hasn't yet got a team of IT people here to make all the computer changes that need to happen, and BSC won't share the IT people who used to be in charge of everything here. So some of us new people are just sitting on our thumbs staring at blank computer screens.
That would be me. Yesterday, one of the editors gave me a couple of documents that had been edited, so that I could look at them and see what will be expected of me. I've more or less done that. And today some huge deadline hit the fan unexpectedly and everyone is running around (and working late tonight) over that. But I had to just sit there most of the day yesterday and all day today and listen to all the talk about what was needed, what was missing, whether or not they could actually finish the job, etc. I asked 2-3 times if I could work offline, on a paper copy of the document, but that evidently doesn't help them. They were delighted I wanted to help and very sad that I couldn't.
I wish I could have, because, judging by what I've read of the edited documents, I'm very familiar with what they're doing, the style they're using, and the things they're looking for. I will be a helpful addition to the force, I can guarantee, once I'm online. That COULD happen as early as tomorrow--or not until next week. Meanwhile, I've got literally nothing to do. And, since I only got about 6 hours of sleep last night, I'm still pretty tired and I found myself nodding off in my little cubicle a couple of times. Very embarrassing! Pat, the equipment guy, picked both of those times to come up behind me and wake me up: once to deliver a foot rest, the second time to replace my old keyboard with an ergonomically correct one. My back is to the door of the cubicle, and those of you who know me well know I never hear someone coming up behind me and I JUMP!!! Well, in these cases, I woke up! I don't think he even realized it, but I've got to do something about that. I've seen several other people with these little silver convex mirrors that sit on your desk so that you can see if there's someone behind you. I've got to find out tomorrow where I can get one of those!
Okay, for those of you who need it, my work phone is 702-295-5434, and it rings right at my desk, and I can talk--at least, I can talk about stuff that I don't care if 40 other people here. As you probably know, NOTHING is private in the Land of Cubicles (LOC), so if you need to call, be sure you ask questions that I don't have to answer with things like, "Oh, you poor baby, and what did the minister say after he picked you up off the floor?"
And for now that's it as far as work goes. I am on the schedule that allows me to have every other Friday off, so I'll be working Friday this week and I'll have next Friday (the 19th) off--unless we're swamped. They ask that you use your discretion: if there's work that needs to get out, then you come in and do it; and, of course, since I'm going to get overtime pay, I'll happily do that. I'd do it anyway, but it is nice to be paid for it.
Next Monday I spend 8 hours in what they call GET, General Education and Training, which everyone goes through. I'll learn about the project and about all the safety concerns (safety is major here), and other general stuff. Other than that, I'm just hanging in there until I get online. And then I expect I'll have no trouble staying busy and awake!
More later. I think next it will be about the RV park. Wish I were here in the daylight to take some pictures. I'll work on that. And I have to tell you about our forays into the City of Light. It's very true, you know, what they say: The money you bring to Vegas STAYS in Vegas. But that is a story for another day. . . .
Saturday, January 6, 2007
Leaving Las Austin
It was hard, folks, to leave Austin, where I've been very happy since August, 1996, where I have family and friends, and where I've been so comfortable. But it also seemed too early to settle down and retire, so this job opportunity in Las Vegas finally proved a bit too tempting.
So here I am, in Las Vegas, Nevada, unbelievably, and I want to do a bit of blogging so that I can just put out one effort to write about what's going on here and anyone of you who wants/cares to can read it whenever you want, rather than having to sit through one of my long e-mails!
This is the first, and I'll talk some about our trip across half the country to get here. Hope you got the reference to the movie "Leaving Las Vegas" in my title. Of course, I'm doing the opposite, but it seemed a catchy beginning.
I spent the week between Christmas and New Year's, with LOTS of help from Karen (my daughter) and Lisa (my friend), cleaning out the condominium and filling up the motor home. Karen is superb at forcing--er, helping--one clean out, recycle, and throw away stuff. We built big piles of things that went away altogether (either thrown out or recycled), small neat piles in corners and closets of things that I didn't want here but I would want when I got back, and a mess in the motor home of the things I felt I HAD to take with me. Well, it isn't too much of a mess now, because there is oooodles of storage room, and Charlie has spent most of today re-packing and re-arranging and he's a jewel! But towards the end, I was just tossing stuff willy-nilly into bags and boxes and throwing them into the motor home or into my car. Ultimately, though, I think I left my condo in pretty good shape for Chris, my new renter, who returned last night (Friday, 1/5) to a sparkling clean place, thanks to my friend Barbara, who cleaned it for me on Thursday.
My brother Charlie arrived Sunday, as expected, though his suitcase took an extra 6 hours to get here. We spent Monday with my daughter and her family in what I thought might be my last visit with them. Then Tuesday we went to U-Haul for our tow dolly. They fitted it up and we came back to the condo, where I continued loading and Charlie packed and did whatever odds and ends needed to be done before our trip.
Wednesday was D-(for "Departure")Day. We set ourselves an envelope of from 8 a.m. to noon: if we left during those hours, we'd probably get to the Oasis RV Resort Park by Friday, my arrival date. It was tight: we had to have the car put on the dolly (U-Haul likes to do that themselves, to ensure it's done right, and we were happy to comply). Then we had a Last Breakfast at Cafe Java, one of my hangouts, stopped at the Post Office to pick up a change of address form, and were off: at 12:15. Okay, a bit of allowance there--we were working hard!
We headed southwest on 290, and, of course, it began to rain before we reached Dripping Springs. But it wasn't (at least at first) a hard rain, so we were fine with it. I have to say I'm using the editorial "we" here: my brother drove every single one of the miles we drove to get here. I rode shotgun for the few times when a shotgun was needed (you ought to see the desert between Kingman, AZ, and Hoover Dam--LOTS of Indians there!). Anyway, the rain never bothered him in the least, and he drove through it for a good 10-12 hours.
The trip from Austin to I-10, southwest of San Antonio, was the least fun leg of our trip. But even that was not at all unpleasant. Those miles were slow because we went through lots of little (and medium-sized) towns, but Charlie was quite interested in their quaintness and architecture, so that part of the trip went quickly. We ate supper in a truck stop somewhere in west Texas, and Charlie said he wasn't tired, so we pushed on. I hoped we'd get to El Paso, and then I thought it'd be fun to stop there so that we could see the mountains in daylight. But Charlie wasn't tired, so we stopped at a Wal-Mart to buy a blanket for the couch (note that, those of you who really DO come to visit: I now have a blanket and pillows for the couch. I AM READY for you!), and pushed on. We got into New Mexico that night around 2 a.m. and stayed in a truck stop, surrounded by fire-breathing dragons and---no, those were just 18-wheelers with their generators running. A nice secure place to stop after driving 703 miles, and we were very comfortable.
In the morning, we got on the road again about 9 a.m. and looked for Waffle Houses or IHOPs, but found none, so we settled for a Denny's in Deming, NM. The weather was outstanding, no wind, no rain, no clouds whatsoever, and, feeling quite rested and on top of things, we just sailed along. We were on I-10 until we got into Arizona to Phoenix, and it was there that we had to make the biggest decision of the trip.
Google Maps had suggested that we take I-17 north to Flagstaff, AZ, where we'd join I-40 and go west, young man, to Kingman, AZ. There, we'd pick up state road 93 up to Hoover Dam and into NM and Las Vegas. Sounded reasonable, and interstates, when you're hauling a rig like ours, were reliable and WIDE. But looking at the map showed that the straight line from Phoenix to Kingman, using state routes 60 and 93, was much more direct. However it was not interstate, so we were unsure how easy it would be for the motor home to travel on those roads. But Charlie has a great attitude: "I don't care if we have 20 cars lined up behind us as we crawl up a mountain. I've got as much right to be here as anyone, and they can just enjoy the scenery." Of course, since he was the "lead dog" in those situations, his scenery changed constantly. They, however, were mostly just looking at his back end! But there was lots of scenery to the side, and we enjoyed it all.
And we cut at least 50 miles off our trip, so it was worth it. When we got to Kingman, AZ, we discovered that we'd driven about 500 miles and were then about 100 miles from Las Vegas (70 miles from Hoover Dam, which is the AZ-NV border). Since my shower was full of plants and such, Charlie wanted to stop at a motel for the night, which was fine with me. He whipped that rig around the parking lot of the brand new Hampton Inn & Suites that we found, again just as if it were a small car. He backed and filled, and literally turned that thing around in a space that I'd have had trouble with in my little car. While I checked in, he managed all of that, so that when the manager came out to be sure he wasn't in the fire lane, she was absolutely amazed--as was everyone around, except Charlie. We had a great night there (I LOVE Hampton Inns: their beds are fabulous, and they have a lap table in every room. Made me realize I'm going to have to buy a lap table, since I left mine in Austin).
Got up yesterday and were on the way at 10--but of course we moved into the Pacific time zone along the way, so it was really 9. We only had 100 miles to go, but they included a very scary trip across Hoover Dam--in high winds, no less (the police, who search every vehicle going across the dam, told us that there were High Wind Advisories issued the night before for the next 24-hour period). Charlie had been there 35 years ago and kept looking around and pointing things out that he remembered. I was white-knuckled, holding on to my seat, positive we were going over the edge any second. And then I would remember how perfect our trip had been so far and realize there was nothing to fear, and I'd relax--until the next curve. He took some pictures, some of which I can perhaps include here.
THAT in itself was incredible: here we are in this rig, a 32-foot motor home, with a car dolly and a car behind it, which he handled like it was a simple SUV--and he found a pull-off area ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD and just whipped that thing across traffic and into that area, parked it, got out, took his pictures, got back in, and whipped it back out, across traffic, and on we went.
That was it: we got here around 12:15, after about 30 hours behind the wheel. It was an amazing time all the way around. And this place is also amazing, both the place where I've parked my motor home, and the city itself, now that I'm seeing it with the eyes of someone who's going to be living here.
But that's for another time. Let's try for tomorrow, when I'll focus on the park itself.
So here I am, in Las Vegas, Nevada, unbelievably, and I want to do a bit of blogging so that I can just put out one effort to write about what's going on here and anyone of you who wants/cares to can read it whenever you want, rather than having to sit through one of my long e-mails!
This is the first, and I'll talk some about our trip across half the country to get here. Hope you got the reference to the movie "Leaving Las Vegas" in my title. Of course, I'm doing the opposite, but it seemed a catchy beginning.
I spent the week between Christmas and New Year's, with LOTS of help from Karen (my daughter) and Lisa (my friend), cleaning out the condominium and filling up the motor home. Karen is superb at forcing--er, helping--one clean out, recycle, and throw away stuff. We built big piles of things that went away altogether (either thrown out or recycled), small neat piles in corners and closets of things that I didn't want here but I would want when I got back, and a mess in the motor home of the things I felt I HAD to take with me. Well, it isn't too much of a mess now, because there is oooodles of storage room, and Charlie has spent most of today re-packing and re-arranging and he's a jewel! But towards the end, I was just tossing stuff willy-nilly into bags and boxes and throwing them into the motor home or into my car. Ultimately, though, I think I left my condo in pretty good shape for Chris, my new renter, who returned last night (Friday, 1/5) to a sparkling clean place, thanks to my friend Barbara, who cleaned it for me on Thursday.
My brother Charlie arrived Sunday, as expected, though his suitcase took an extra 6 hours to get here. We spent Monday with my daughter and her family in what I thought might be my last visit with them. Then Tuesday we went to U-Haul for our tow dolly. They fitted it up and we came back to the condo, where I continued loading and Charlie packed and did whatever odds and ends needed to be done before our trip.
Wednesday was D-(for "Departure")Day. We set ourselves an envelope of from 8 a.m. to noon: if we left during those hours, we'd probably get to the Oasis RV Resort Park by Friday, my arrival date. It was tight: we had to have the car put on the dolly (U-Haul likes to do that themselves, to ensure it's done right, and we were happy to comply). Then we had a Last Breakfast at Cafe Java, one of my hangouts, stopped at the Post Office to pick up a change of address form, and were off: at 12:15. Okay, a bit of allowance there--we were working hard!
We headed southwest on 290, and, of course, it began to rain before we reached Dripping Springs. But it wasn't (at least at first) a hard rain, so we were fine with it. I have to say I'm using the editorial "we" here: my brother drove every single one of the miles we drove to get here. I rode shotgun for the few times when a shotgun was needed (you ought to see the desert between Kingman, AZ, and Hoover Dam--LOTS of Indians there!). Anyway, the rain never bothered him in the least, and he drove through it for a good 10-12 hours.
The trip from Austin to I-10, southwest of San Antonio, was the least fun leg of our trip. But even that was not at all unpleasant. Those miles were slow because we went through lots of little (and medium-sized) towns, but Charlie was quite interested in their quaintness and architecture, so that part of the trip went quickly. We ate supper in a truck stop somewhere in west Texas, and Charlie said he wasn't tired, so we pushed on. I hoped we'd get to El Paso, and then I thought it'd be fun to stop there so that we could see the mountains in daylight. But Charlie wasn't tired, so we stopped at a Wal-Mart to buy a blanket for the couch (note that, those of you who really DO come to visit: I now have a blanket and pillows for the couch. I AM READY for you!), and pushed on. We got into New Mexico that night around 2 a.m. and stayed in a truck stop, surrounded by fire-breathing dragons and---no, those were just 18-wheelers with their generators running. A nice secure place to stop after driving 703 miles, and we were very comfortable.
In the morning, we got on the road again about 9 a.m. and looked for Waffle Houses or IHOPs, but found none, so we settled for a Denny's in Deming, NM. The weather was outstanding, no wind, no rain, no clouds whatsoever, and, feeling quite rested and on top of things, we just sailed along. We were on I-10 until we got into Arizona to Phoenix, and it was there that we had to make the biggest decision of the trip.
Google Maps had suggested that we take I-17 north to Flagstaff, AZ, where we'd join I-40 and go west, young man, to Kingman, AZ. There, we'd pick up state road 93 up to Hoover Dam and into NM and Las Vegas. Sounded reasonable, and interstates, when you're hauling a rig like ours, were reliable and WIDE. But looking at the map showed that the straight line from Phoenix to Kingman, using state routes 60 and 93, was much more direct. However it was not interstate, so we were unsure how easy it would be for the motor home to travel on those roads. But Charlie has a great attitude: "I don't care if we have 20 cars lined up behind us as we crawl up a mountain. I've got as much right to be here as anyone, and they can just enjoy the scenery." Of course, since he was the "lead dog" in those situations, his scenery changed constantly. They, however, were mostly just looking at his back end! But there was lots of scenery to the side, and we enjoyed it all.
And we cut at least 50 miles off our trip, so it was worth it. When we got to Kingman, AZ, we discovered that we'd driven about 500 miles and were then about 100 miles from Las Vegas (70 miles from Hoover Dam, which is the AZ-NV border). Since my shower was full of plants and such, Charlie wanted to stop at a motel for the night, which was fine with me. He whipped that rig around the parking lot of the brand new Hampton Inn & Suites that we found, again just as if it were a small car. He backed and filled, and literally turned that thing around in a space that I'd have had trouble with in my little car. While I checked in, he managed all of that, so that when the manager came out to be sure he wasn't in the fire lane, she was absolutely amazed--as was everyone around, except Charlie. We had a great night there (I LOVE Hampton Inns: their beds are fabulous, and they have a lap table in every room. Made me realize I'm going to have to buy a lap table, since I left mine in Austin).
Got up yesterday and were on the way at 10--but of course we moved into the Pacific time zone along the way, so it was really 9. We only had 100 miles to go, but they included a very scary trip across Hoover Dam--in high winds, no less (the police, who search every vehicle going across the dam, told us that there were High Wind Advisories issued the night before for the next 24-hour period). Charlie had been there 35 years ago and kept looking around and pointing things out that he remembered. I was white-knuckled, holding on to my seat, positive we were going over the edge any second. And then I would remember how perfect our trip had been so far and realize there was nothing to fear, and I'd relax--until the next curve. He took some pictures, some of which I can perhaps include here.
THAT in itself was incredible: here we are in this rig, a 32-foot motor home, with a car dolly and a car behind it, which he handled like it was a simple SUV--and he found a pull-off area ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROAD and just whipped that thing across traffic and into that area, parked it, got out, took his pictures, got back in, and whipped it back out, across traffic, and on we went.
That was it: we got here around 12:15, after about 30 hours behind the wheel. It was an amazing time all the way around. And this place is also amazing, both the place where I've parked my motor home, and the city itself, now that I'm seeing it with the eyes of someone who's going to be living here.
But that's for another time. Let's try for tomorrow, when I'll focus on the park itself.
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