The Long, Long Trailer
Saturday was a 'lost day' because I didn't get home until after 3am and didn't fall asleep until after 4. The plane was stuck on the jetway for over three hours due to a backup hydraulic problem. Sheesh. Normally, I won't give 'real names' or 'poke' at companies, but based on my experience, AirTran is a terrible airline and they won't last long. When the plane arrived in Tampa early afternoon Friday, clear skies no cross currents, yet the pilot bounced the plane on landing! (That's poor landing skills.)
Then on the flight back around 1:45 am, when the pilot landed in Atlanta he not only bounced the plane, he landed too fast and everyone could feel him slamming on the brakes. SHEEEEESH!!! As a private pilot with many years of flying experience, I can tell you I'll never fly with AirTran again.
Also, the seats on their Boeing 737 were cheapo's... you couldn't adjust them! That's correct. The seats were set in the 90-degree position and that was that. My back was sore all day Saturday — although it was kinda funny watching all the tired passengers Friday night simultaneously realizing they were gonna sit up straight all the way to Atlanta. Thank heavens it's only an hour-long flight from Tampa!
Well, I'm busy studying security issues as hopefully I will have a new and very interesting job, very shortly. I will have to stay where I am until I complete some training for my current team members, but I don't think that will create a problem. Besides, it will give me time to carefully pack up my 'stuff', find a new place to live, and learn all about my soon-to-be new employer's product line and methodologies. I have already downloaded a demo of the tool they use for testing as well as a couple of their product lines. And I've put my Mandarin Chinese studies on the shelf temporarily, while I come back up to speed on French. Decades ago I could easily banter in French. Of course now it will take me some time to renew my acquaintance with that marvellous 'language of love'.
Also, since I haven't been a network engineer for several years, everything I knew about Windows is locked up in my memory banks. Interestingly, several months ago at a garage sale I bought a set of MCSE books for Win2k and they are only a couple years old too. That means they won't work as the only reference material for the MCSE certification, but they WILL work for re-learning Windows security stuff, provided I supplement the books with msdn stuff, etc. etc. (which obviously I will).
While I was typing this, someone knocked at my front door. When I opened it there was an earnest-looking, young black man dressed in a hot dark suit and white shirt. He was carefully holding some newspapers. The kid looked a little confused when he saw me (as most of my neighbors are black-americans), then he hesitatingly asked if I would like to give him a dollar for one of the "mumble mumble mumble" newspapers. When I asked him to repeat the name of the paper, he lost his courage and muttered "oh sorry, never mind" and began to leave. But for some reason I stopped him. I handed him a dollar and he handed me what turned out to be a Louis Farakhan newspaper supporting the local american muslim mosque.
Frankly, the last thing I want to do is support a mosque, particularly one that is part of the american muslim organization started by Elijah Muhammed and now run by Farakhan. Cause Farakhan killed Malcolm X (unless the CIA did, I'm not sure exactly which, though I 'lean' towards Farakhan as the murderer).
But I am also trying to be a good Christian so I didn't shut the door on the kid but instead voiced my opinion that the problem with Farakhan is that he 'leaves out' 50% of the population, women, by making his 'mission' about men (referring to the million-man march). It was odd but this young guy and I were on the same wave length, because he immediately said "oh it's not like it was when the million-man march happened (and I had not mentioned my thoughts on that). This next march is gonna be million-man and WOMAN march." (Seems Farakhan (or perhaps just the young man) is trying to pretend he thinks women are important. Well, if it is Farakhan's thought then perhaps he's changed. After all, Farakhan isn't a spring chicken, he's like an old cock only good for the stew pot. Thinking about him reminded me of Eldridge Cleaver. His book "Soul on Ice" was the 'icon' for the Black Panthers back in the 60s-70s. Then a decade or so later Cleaver had not only renounced the Black Panthers, but had converted to Christianity and left the "Peace and Freedom" party to become a stolid Republican. He even wrote a barbeque book! I have that barbeque book somewhere. It's how I know how to make macaroni salad. No, Eldridge didn't have a macaroni salad recipe in the book, but my black-american friend, Cassie, who gave me the barbeque book, brought the macaroni salad to my first cookout using Cleaver's recipes. I make her salad all the time now, but I never did have another Cleaver cookout.
Did I ever mention that I used to live directly across the street from the Black Panther's Headquarters? Or that I shopped a lot at their Muslim bakery? I used to buy black panther veggie burgers there. The staff would make me wait until they'd served at least three black people ahead of me, whether or not I was there first. For some reason I didn't mind, as I thought it was 'turn about fair play' or something like that. While I was waiting to be asked for my order, I'd browse through the cards they had for sale. I can clearly remember one card. There was a photo of a young black girl (about 13-14 years old) on the front. She was holding some kind of automatic weapon. On the inside of the card three words were printed: "What It Is". I never did, and still don't, understand the meaning of those three words, but I didn't care. Those Black Panther veggie burgers were delicious!
That was back in the day when I only dated rich guys (hey, I used to be quite cute, or quite slutty, can't exactly remember which, heh heh, but as they say you never regret the things you did). I liked to have the rich guys take me to places they didn't want to go, like the nude beach at the river over Mt. Tamalpias way, or like Eli's Mile-High Club — one of my favorite small jazz/blues clubs in Oakland. Usually there were about 40-50 black-american attendees... and me. For some reason which I really don't 100% comprehend, in those days I could go anywhere I wanted to and no one bothered me. I wonder why that was? Wish I knew. I remember taking some rich guy with a hyphenated last name and a "III" after it, to Eli's club. The guy drove a bentley and was a corporate attorney. His mom owned several high-rises in San Francisco, and hated the idea of her son dating me. She thought I was a hippie but I was only it for the plentitude of sex that came with headscarves, bellbottoms and patouli oil. She invited me to dinner and I brought a bottle of my favorite white wine. It came in a fish-shaped bottle with a screw cap. It was a sweet wine which is why I liked it. Also, I used the empty bottles to decorate my living room windowsills. I'd fill each bottle with water to which I'd add fabric dye so that when the afternoon sun shone in the windows, rainbow colors would dance across the mirrors I'd strategically hung on the walls opposite the windows. In those days I was easily amused. hmmm. I have the same kinds of bottles lined up in my kitchen window right now, so I suppose I'm still easily amused. I even have the same stupid hair do... scraggy hair with bangs I cut myself, but that's because I'm a cheapskate. heh heh
Now where was I when my old-lady mind meandered down that memory lane? Oh yes!
The kid handed me the newspaper as I handed him the dollar in payment. Then he heard my tv and realized that the Lucille Ball/Desi Arnez movie "The long, long trailer" was playing. His face lit up with a big smile, his body visibly relaxed and he said, with great enthusiasm: "Hey, I LOVE that movie!!! It's Lucy and Ricky in that big trailer!!" We stood there in silence sharing a common love for Lucy. I can't explain it exactly, but it was a wonderfully human moment. I could have kissed him (but I didn't). Then without another word he turned and jogged down the stairs and I went back to work on my blog, while Ricky cautiously drove over the narrow road pulling that long, long trailer.
Lucy can always bring people together. She was an amazing woman, but without Desi to spark her and keep her on track, she would have been just another 'B' movie actress. I'm sure of it. Same thing for Desi. He needed Lucy and she needed him. It's sad that they didn't stay together for a lifetime, but in actuality, they did remain friends until Desi died. That's all one can expect, in this age of broken promises.
Well, there's a Buster Keaton silent movie on now. It's very well filmed for having been released in 1928. A few minutes ago in the movie there was a little girl who looked to be about six years old, which means that if she is still alive, she's my mom's age. Amazing. I must now end this rambling missive to call my mom as it is her birthday. I love my mom. She's an amazing woman who, after my dad died, still managed to raise the six kids who were still living at home then, without once accepting any kind of public assistance. My mom only went to the sixth grade too. But she's remarkably intelligent, and well-read. I must get my intelligence partly from her, but then my dad was an inventor, a consummate salesman and an author too. Yeah, I would have to say that my siblings and I could not have picked better parents. We had a grand time as kids, and several of us were lucky enough to have had both our parents until we were grown and on our own. Sometimes I could weep for my younger siblings who didn't have that luxury... a mom who only worked part-time and was waiting for them when they got home from school — to make sure they did their home chores, of course. heh heh
Well, I must call my mom and wish her happy birthday then get back to my studies.
A hui hou! Tante Waileka
Then on the flight back around 1:45 am, when the pilot landed in Atlanta he not only bounced the plane, he landed too fast and everyone could feel him slamming on the brakes. SHEEEEESH!!! As a private pilot with many years of flying experience, I can tell you I'll never fly with AirTran again.
Also, the seats on their Boeing 737 were cheapo's... you couldn't adjust them! That's correct. The seats were set in the 90-degree position and that was that. My back was sore all day Saturday — although it was kinda funny watching all the tired passengers Friday night simultaneously realizing they were gonna sit up straight all the way to Atlanta. Thank heavens it's only an hour-long flight from Tampa!
Well, I'm busy studying security issues as hopefully I will have a new and very interesting job, very shortly. I will have to stay where I am until I complete some training for my current team members, but I don't think that will create a problem. Besides, it will give me time to carefully pack up my 'stuff', find a new place to live, and learn all about my soon-to-be new employer's product line and methodologies. I have already downloaded a demo of the tool they use for testing as well as a couple of their product lines. And I've put my Mandarin Chinese studies on the shelf temporarily, while I come back up to speed on French. Decades ago I could easily banter in French. Of course now it will take me some time to renew my acquaintance with that marvellous 'language of love'.
Also, since I haven't been a network engineer for several years, everything I knew about Windows is locked up in my memory banks. Interestingly, several months ago at a garage sale I bought a set of MCSE books for Win2k and they are only a couple years old too. That means they won't work as the only reference material for the MCSE certification, but they WILL work for re-learning Windows security stuff, provided I supplement the books with msdn stuff, etc. etc. (which obviously I will).
While I was typing this, someone knocked at my front door. When I opened it there was an earnest-looking, young black man dressed in a hot dark suit and white shirt. He was carefully holding some newspapers. The kid looked a little confused when he saw me (as most of my neighbors are black-americans), then he hesitatingly asked if I would like to give him a dollar for one of the "mumble mumble mumble" newspapers. When I asked him to repeat the name of the paper, he lost his courage and muttered "oh sorry, never mind" and began to leave. But for some reason I stopped him. I handed him a dollar and he handed me what turned out to be a Louis Farakhan newspaper supporting the local american muslim mosque.
Frankly, the last thing I want to do is support a mosque, particularly one that is part of the american muslim organization started by Elijah Muhammed and now run by Farakhan. Cause Farakhan killed Malcolm X (unless the CIA did, I'm not sure exactly which, though I 'lean' towards Farakhan as the murderer).
But I am also trying to be a good Christian so I didn't shut the door on the kid but instead voiced my opinion that the problem with Farakhan is that he 'leaves out' 50% of the population, women, by making his 'mission' about men (referring to the million-man march). It was odd but this young guy and I were on the same wave length, because he immediately said "oh it's not like it was when the million-man march happened (and I had not mentioned my thoughts on that). This next march is gonna be million-man and WOMAN march." (Seems Farakhan (or perhaps just the young man) is trying to pretend he thinks women are important. Well, if it is Farakhan's thought then perhaps he's changed. After all, Farakhan isn't a spring chicken, he's like an old cock only good for the stew pot. Thinking about him reminded me of Eldridge Cleaver. His book "Soul on Ice" was the 'icon' for the Black Panthers back in the 60s-70s. Then a decade or so later Cleaver had not only renounced the Black Panthers, but had converted to Christianity and left the "Peace and Freedom" party to become a stolid Republican. He even wrote a barbeque book! I have that barbeque book somewhere. It's how I know how to make macaroni salad. No, Eldridge didn't have a macaroni salad recipe in the book, but my black-american friend, Cassie, who gave me the barbeque book, brought the macaroni salad to my first cookout using Cleaver's recipes. I make her salad all the time now, but I never did have another Cleaver cookout.
Did I ever mention that I used to live directly across the street from the Black Panther's Headquarters? Or that I shopped a lot at their Muslim bakery? I used to buy black panther veggie burgers there. The staff would make me wait until they'd served at least three black people ahead of me, whether or not I was there first. For some reason I didn't mind, as I thought it was 'turn about fair play' or something like that. While I was waiting to be asked for my order, I'd browse through the cards they had for sale. I can clearly remember one card. There was a photo of a young black girl (about 13-14 years old) on the front. She was holding some kind of automatic weapon. On the inside of the card three words were printed: "What It Is". I never did, and still don't, understand the meaning of those three words, but I didn't care. Those Black Panther veggie burgers were delicious!
That was back in the day when I only dated rich guys (hey, I used to be quite cute, or quite slutty, can't exactly remember which, heh heh, but as they say you never regret the things you did). I liked to have the rich guys take me to places they didn't want to go, like the nude beach at the river over Mt. Tamalpias way, or like Eli's Mile-High Club — one of my favorite small jazz/blues clubs in Oakland. Usually there were about 40-50 black-american attendees... and me. For some reason which I really don't 100% comprehend, in those days I could go anywhere I wanted to and no one bothered me. I wonder why that was? Wish I knew. I remember taking some rich guy with a hyphenated last name and a "III" after it, to Eli's club. The guy drove a bentley and was a corporate attorney. His mom owned several high-rises in San Francisco, and hated the idea of her son dating me. She thought I was a hippie but I was only it for the plentitude of sex that came with headscarves, bellbottoms and patouli oil. She invited me to dinner and I brought a bottle of my favorite white wine. It came in a fish-shaped bottle with a screw cap. It was a sweet wine which is why I liked it. Also, I used the empty bottles to decorate my living room windowsills. I'd fill each bottle with water to which I'd add fabric dye so that when the afternoon sun shone in the windows, rainbow colors would dance across the mirrors I'd strategically hung on the walls opposite the windows. In those days I was easily amused. hmmm. I have the same kinds of bottles lined up in my kitchen window right now, so I suppose I'm still easily amused. I even have the same stupid hair do... scraggy hair with bangs I cut myself, but that's because I'm a cheapskate. heh heh
Now where was I when my old-lady mind meandered down that memory lane? Oh yes!
The kid handed me the newspaper as I handed him the dollar in payment. Then he heard my tv and realized that the Lucille Ball/Desi Arnez movie "The long, long trailer" was playing. His face lit up with a big smile, his body visibly relaxed and he said, with great enthusiasm: "Hey, I LOVE that movie!!! It's Lucy and Ricky in that big trailer!!" We stood there in silence sharing a common love for Lucy. I can't explain it exactly, but it was a wonderfully human moment. I could have kissed him (but I didn't). Then without another word he turned and jogged down the stairs and I went back to work on my blog, while Ricky cautiously drove over the narrow road pulling that long, long trailer.
Lucy can always bring people together. She was an amazing woman, but without Desi to spark her and keep her on track, she would have been just another 'B' movie actress. I'm sure of it. Same thing for Desi. He needed Lucy and she needed him. It's sad that they didn't stay together for a lifetime, but in actuality, they did remain friends until Desi died. That's all one can expect, in this age of broken promises.
Well, there's a Buster Keaton silent movie on now. It's very well filmed for having been released in 1928. A few minutes ago in the movie there was a little girl who looked to be about six years old, which means that if she is still alive, she's my mom's age. Amazing. I must now end this rambling missive to call my mom as it is her birthday. I love my mom. She's an amazing woman who, after my dad died, still managed to raise the six kids who were still living at home then, without once accepting any kind of public assistance. My mom only went to the sixth grade too. But she's remarkably intelligent, and well-read. I must get my intelligence partly from her, but then my dad was an inventor, a consummate salesman and an author too. Yeah, I would have to say that my siblings and I could not have picked better parents. We had a grand time as kids, and several of us were lucky enough to have had both our parents until we were grown and on our own. Sometimes I could weep for my younger siblings who didn't have that luxury... a mom who only worked part-time and was waiting for them when they got home from school — to make sure they did their home chores, of course. heh heh
Well, I must call my mom and wish her happy birthday then get back to my studies.
A hui hou! Tante Waileka
posted by Tante Waileka at 4:25 PM
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