Nuthin’ but an H thang, Baybay…

Dallas was a good trip. It was about 47 degrees, foggy and drizzly while I was there, which I welcomed with open arms. I didn’t wear a coat but each of my clients did…I got my share of teasing in and so did they (I called them wusses and they called me a tourist).

I traveled with Charley again and we laughed the whole time. Our first (and most important) meeting went very well…here’s to hoping that deal goes down within the next week. Our dinner meeting was a strange one. We met with a client of mine who (we found out) was on the verge of being fired from his job…his boss was supposed to attend but he had a ”schedule conflict.” So my client brought none other than his fiancee to dinner…right. It was obvious this guy was having issues…dinner conversation ranged from the loss of one of his front teeth, to getting his guitar out of hock, to him starting a far-fetched software company. This dude was all over the board. Kinda felt sorry for him.

After we escaped dinner, we headed over to our hotel. It was right next to a little shop that boasted with bright red neon letters: “Condoms To Go.” I pointed it out to Charley laughingly, to which he responded, “What other kind is there?” I clicked a photo of the sign with my camera phone to be obnoxious. After we both checked in, we met up in the hotel bar for a beer. Charley ran into one of his distant relatives there, which was an odd coincidence. Neither of them are from the same town and it was only the second time they’d ever met. We had a couple beers with him - super nice guy.

The next day we had a meeting with a larger client of mine. It was a productive meeting, as we strategized with him on his current project and talked about future business. Then Charley and I drove over to one of their retail outlets – for business purposes, of course. We each proudly bought cowboy hats (Charley bought two for his kids) and I wore mine most of the rest of my trip. We met with a business partner over lunch and discussed an opportunity for him – and we all laughed about “Condoms To Go.” He told us their parking lot is always full…heh.

Finally, we returned to the airport and were able to nab the very last two open seats on an earlier flight. I sat next to a guy who was super-chatty, like me. We talked about our jobs, companies, families, hobbies, etc, etc for 2 hours…he might even turn out to be a sales prospect for me…hee.

It feels so good to be home today. The sun is bright and the cold has backed off just a little. And my house is clean. And I’m leaving for Puerto Vallarta in 2 weeks! And I actually received my new Passport in time for the trip. And I’m listening to Queen on iTunes. And I’m still in my PJ’s. I love Saturday.

Do you remember the old 80’s R&B tune ”The Rain” by Oran “Juice” Jones?

WLOL used to play it once in awhile and it always gave me a good laugh. I recently thought of this song (don’t know how these things occur to me) and I tracked down the lyrics on Leo’s Lyric Database. I then found the song on iTunes by artist and played the 30-second clip for Adam. He didn’t recognize it…I was shocked.

Anyway, the lyrics are, uh, well see for yourself. I posted them here if you click on More…

(more…)

For months, I have avoided the office plague. I almost carried my immunity around like the trophy on the TV show Survivor. But now that Winter is more than half over, I’m coming down with a dang cold. The ”outdoors” is too frozen for it to be allergies.

The evidence: clogged nose, headache, body ache, fever, watery eyes.

Yesterday, I had a nice nagging headache all afternoon. After working hours were over, I attended a work-baby shower for one of my co-workers. I could feel my head throbbing and so I left after an hour. I went to bed somewhat early, only to wake up with a migraine in the wee hours of the morning. I’ve been up since about 3am. Ugh.

So I’m home today, trying to rest. I was going to try to work on email from home but the server is down…so much for being productive. I’d better get well quickly – I’ve scheduled a meeting in Dallas on Tuesday next week. Yeah, Dallas as in Texas.

My Valentine’s Day was smashing.

After a long day at work, I came in the door to some soft music playing in the living room. I peeled off my coat and gloves and found my Valentine at the stove cooking up something wonderful. My dining room was filled with a huge bouquet of flowers that Adam hand-picked and assembled just for me. He “edited” a heartfelt card for me with his own comical side-notes. On top of that, Adam prepared Bairdi crab with clarified butter, crisp grilled asparagus with a made-from-scratch wine sauce and herb-encrusted beef tenderloin for supper. He chose a red zinfandel called Temptation, which we had not yet tried. The wine superbly complemented our entrees. We both gave toasts in one other’s honor over candlelight.

I schemed for a couple days on what to do for Adam on Valentine’s Day. First, I gave him a Valentine homemade from good ol’ construction paper and wood glue (cuz that’s the only kind I had!)…it was bright and loud and he loved it. I also bought him a funny little Reflections card (Reflections = a brand of greeting card we frequently give each other) and I wrote him a LOVE note inside. Then, I picked up some button-down shirts for him, which I thought he’d like to wear to his new job. Finally, I found some obnoxious Valentine’s boxers I figured he’d enjoy…and he did.

Valentine’s Day was a big success again – thanks to Adam, the most thoughtful man I know.

On the way in to work this morning, I listened to Etta James, Roy Orbison, Ray Charles and a splash of Elvis. It was like being inside the four walls of my personal little soul club, easing me through the humdrum of downtown traffic.

Yeah.

It was that kind of day.

Memories are funny. At times, I seem to lack many memories before age 5…and then I see photos of myself at age 4 and something sparks, a rush of a feeling or a flash of images. I still think one of my earliest memories is being on Uncle Doug’s speed boat up north. I was bundled up to the hilt! Immobilized, I can still feel myself squinting in the sun and trying to avoid the light spray of lake water on my face. And that’s it…that’s all there is. I don’t know how old I was but it occurs to me that I had recently turned 4.

My Mom has several brown worn out albums with the word ”Album” on the front. Generic as that sounds, these precious binders hold most of the “kid” photos of my sisters and me. Interestingly, there are dozens photos of an apartment we lived in until I was about 4 years old (before we moved onto Daly Street). Without these photos, I wouldn’t have any recollection of this place whatsoever. Isn’t that odd. It’s like a dream I just can’t remember.

On my birthday this past January, I located some photos that I’ve been looking for for nearly a year. We dragged out those crusty brown albums and paged through. In an instant, there they were:

When I was small, to say that I loved little tiny flowers would be a gross understatement. I’d search them out whenever I was outside…it didn’t matter where. My Grandma and my Mom used to talk of me bringing her small bouquets of violets, dandelions, lily of the valley and various weedy buds from the yard. Maybe it has something to do with my name…my Mom named me after the Scottish flower Heather. It grows so thickly in Scotland that people regard it as a weed. Heh, my name has always fit me well.

In the first photo above, I spotted a hearty patch of flowers and decided to place them in the spaces of the links in this nearby chain. So where am I in these photos? I couldn’t tell you. I do know I’m with my Auntie Bon and Uncle Doug – the second photo shows her lifting me out of one of my Uncle Doug’s semis. Isn’t she a little vixen with her dark wavy hair flowing down her back?! I sort of remember my cousin Emily being there with me but she’s not in these photos. I don’t know if she’d be old enough to be there either. Weird.

What a great memory though. I can picture those flowers in the chain like it was only yesterday.

The processes involved in changing one’s name really bite.

Changing my name was a difficult decision. I did it mainly for two reasons: 1) to solidify the sense that Adam is my family and 2) just in case we have kids, sharing one name is important to me. These ideals aside, it is an ugly process.

The latest example: my passport. Since we’re going to Mexico in March, I thought I’d get on the ball and update my passport to reflect my new name. I know one can get away with a driver’s license and birth certificate since it’s a border country…but I’ve also heard it’s a heckuva lot easier to get through customs with a passport than without. It was only last August that I renewed my passport so I was a little irritated thinking The Man would stick me with another $100 fee. As it turns out, they don’t collect another fee if your passport is less than 1 year old. Score one for me.

On a lunch break, I took the frozen skyway to the Hennepin County Government Center downtown. I waited patiently for 25 minutes to speak to an anxious-looking guy who truly fretted over not knowing how to help me. He called helper #2 over to shed some light on the topic. By contrast, this calm woman dug systematically through the computer for an answer. Just as I was starting to get mesmerized by the computer screen reflecting a greenish-blue hue on her glasses, she printed off an official-type form and confidently dished out the following instructions: “Fill out this form, make a copy of your marriage license and mail those two along with your current passport to the address at the bottom of this form.” I ask, “Do I need to submit new photos?” She reponds, “Nope, they’ll use the one on file.” I ask, “So that’s it?” thinking this sounds way too easy…to which she replies – again confidently – “Yep, that’s it.”

Yeah, it was too easy. I diligently mailed off the package per HCGC’s instructions, only to get it back in its entirety a week later with a whole new set of forms and a letter with more instructions attached. Point one: the form they gave me at HCGC was not the correct form. Point two: I did indeed have to get new photos taken and submit them. Point three: I was told to mail it to Virginia when it actually needed to go to Philly. Score three for The Man.

So now, I have filled out their new form, dragged myself to ProEx for a new passport photo and mailed the whole new package to the correct address (I hope). Since I lost a week of processing time, I just don’t know if I’ll get the new passport in time for the trip. If I get stuck in a Mexican prison or something…I’m going to be very very upset.

By this point, I’ve successfully changed my name with most of my other ID’s and business relationships – I didn’t even have to chase my tail on any of those. However, I have to admit that there are a few left: the titles to my car and my house have yet to be listed under my new name, as do a few utility bills. After this last experience, I may give myself a breather on those. Maybe after Mexico…if I ever get out of prison.