Sometimes it takes a BIG event to get you off your expand butt and out of your comfort zone. John's last day at work was our BIG event. He needed a phone to replace his corporate Blackberry, so we set off for a short trip that became a journey deep into the technology jungle. Instead of a hunt for lions, tigers, and elephants, we set out aiming only for small game -- a new smart phone. It was an easy capture. However, one good capture gave birth to a frenzy that ended up with laptop and desktop computers, tablets, hotspots, and wireless tools of all sorts. It was breathless and it was exciting. We collapsed at the end well satisfied. Then we started to unpack the spoils. It was an "OMG" moment. Our work had just begun!
This weekend, we find ourselves in a great maze of connections, restores, setups and sharing options as we construct our new collection of accounts, apps, a mix of touch screens, swipe techniques, voice controlled searches, and mouse free key boards. Like any DIY vision, we've learned it is more than a project, it's a monster of ongoing change-- "ah ha" moments of success are sprinkled chats with customer support and wicked downloads with fingers crossed.
Today, we continue...
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Sunday morning
We're still waiting for spring. It was warm on Saturday, but little skaters were still stumbling around on the ice at the Pentagon City ice rink. We've tried to push through the gray that enveloped us again this morning. I escaped to Savannah a couple of weekends ago. We threw a "Food Truck" party - twice to gather friends to celebrate the end of winter. There was sun, but not enough to make buds pop out on our flowering trees. I cleared out old winter clothes and hauled them off to Good Will. None of this has worked. It's going to snow again tonight. It's hopeless. This year spring is a tease. I imagine that one day in late April it will be summer -- completely skipping spring.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Killing time at the airport
I'm stuck at Dulles Airport waiting for a delayed flight to Savannah GA to spend a weekend with my youngest sister. It's catchup time -- just us girls-- to reconnect as our lives have drifted apart for the last couple of years. I don't travel much anymore and am glad of it, so to be delayed late at night and then arrive at 1AM is not at the top of my list of fun things to do.
Dulles has grown up. The "people movers" are gone. Instead of piling in those oversized buses to cross from the main terminal to the outer terminal, there are sleek automated driverless trains, and then lighted floors guiding me on the long walk down sterile shiny halls full of Mariah Carey's voice softly floating through the air.
At gate C28X at the very end of the hall, I sit with quiet people buried in books (yes, actual printed books), tablets, smart phones or laptops. A few children, wrapped up in their jammies, whine.
There's a guy standing about 15 feet from me eating from a fruit cup while he talks on his smart phone via earphone and wire about Republican politics, senators and players. I catch references to Goldwater and "thanks for jumping on that for me." During his second phone call, he tosses the fruit cup into a nearby bin then calmly sips his Starbucks coffee. Soon, he's onto a third call which has lasted for some time now.
The dude's well cut suit, light blue shirt and dark blue tie separate him from the rest of us. He would be handsome if he were taller and his shoes weren't scuffed. The rest of us are in jeans, sweats, and are generally wrinkled, showing the wear of a long day. The worst of waiting passengers wear tight shirts that reveal lumps that are definitely not worth sharing and they really don' look good when the shirt is pink. Then there's the lady speaking into her phone as if it were a walkie talkie while she pushes, not pulls, her carry on bags. Another guy is blowing his nose into his handkerchief while he searches for his gate. We are a motley crew, except of course for the Republican operative. It must be swell to be so sure that your are so important.
Dulles has grown up. The "people movers" are gone. Instead of piling in those oversized buses to cross from the main terminal to the outer terminal, there are sleek automated driverless trains, and then lighted floors guiding me on the long walk down sterile shiny halls full of Mariah Carey's voice softly floating through the air.
At gate C28X at the very end of the hall, I sit with quiet people buried in books (yes, actual printed books), tablets, smart phones or laptops. A few children, wrapped up in their jammies, whine.
There's a guy standing about 15 feet from me eating from a fruit cup while he talks on his smart phone via earphone and wire about Republican politics, senators and players. I catch references to Goldwater and "thanks for jumping on that for me." During his second phone call, he tosses the fruit cup into a nearby bin then calmly sips his Starbucks coffee. Soon, he's onto a third call which has lasted for some time now.
The dude's well cut suit, light blue shirt and dark blue tie separate him from the rest of us. He would be handsome if he were taller and his shoes weren't scuffed. The rest of us are in jeans, sweats, and are generally wrinkled, showing the wear of a long day. The worst of waiting passengers wear tight shirts that reveal lumps that are definitely not worth sharing and they really don' look good when the shirt is pink. Then there's the lady speaking into her phone as if it were a walkie talkie while she pushes, not pulls, her carry on bags. Another guy is blowing his nose into his handkerchief while he searches for his gate. We are a motley crew, except of course for the Republican operative. It must be swell to be so sure that your are so important.
We have a launch date!
It all started on March 23, 2012 when the braces holding Forte Vento steady on land while she was getting a fresh bottom paint job gave way in the night. Now, over a year later and some $65000 in repairs (luckily covered by the marina's insurance) she's like new (even better than new) and will go back into the water on April 21st. All she needs is the bottom paint, deck and hull cleaning and waxing, and the installation of the main sail before she splashes into the Chesapeake. A short tuning sail to ensure her mast is aligned properly will make her "good to go."
John and I will both take the day off work to witness this most momentous event. We've missed Forte Vento. If you have ever experienced a house disaster, you know how we have felt this past year. We've learned how much it means to have a place to which we can escape. We've missed the water, the wind, even the sudden rain storm in the heat of the summer. Somehow being on the water had become part of us and we wanted it back. We'll have it again soon. We feel like expectant parents.
John and I will both take the day off work to witness this most momentous event. We've missed Forte Vento. If you have ever experienced a house disaster, you know how we have felt this past year. We've learned how much it means to have a place to which we can escape. We've missed the water, the wind, even the sudden rain storm in the heat of the summer. Somehow being on the water had become part of us and we wanted it back. We'll have it again soon. We feel like expectant parents.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
ZAPPED!
I never thought it would happen to me. I've heard that it happened to others, but not to me. No way.
A 24 hour snow fall shuttered the government last Thursday, so I sat at the dining room table teleworking from my PC. Not the fasted machine in the camp, but it was a productive day. I pounded out a risk analysis of one of our major applications and was pleased with it. I saved it to my official encrypted flash drive, not saved it to my desktop. That was the last thing that happened before a sinister force took over my PC. In a matter of seconds all my applications and most of my files had been overwritten with some kind of software that looks like Office Word asking me to select the Asian language I wanted to work in.
"This can't be happening," I screamed by the computer. "I've got two kinds of anti-virus software. I back up my files to a cloud service every week," I moaned, thrusting my hands into the air, pleading to the computer gods.
I typed furiously, trying to find an application that worked, then I tried to access the flash drive. The machine didn't recognize it. I snapped out the flash-drive hoping against hope that it was not corrupted. It would be impossible to recreate the paper!
Thinking that I had been injured somehow, John rushed out of his home office. "What's happened? Are you alright?" I explained. Like the EMT volunteer he once was, he took direct and immediate action, "Disconnect from the Wi-Fi and then turn off your PC. You don't want the cloud service to do another backup now that everything has been overwritten." I did as I was told. My forehead fell onto the dead keyboard. I felt hopeless. It was like loosing a buddy, a reliable friend who was always there when I needed her. We'd spent over five years together.
John consoled me. "This can be fixed. It's not a fatal blow, but surgery is needed."
Today, I turned over my friend to the Geek Squad. The young woman gave me hope. "These old machines are sturdy. Don't buy a new one. Give us three or four days and we'll bring her back to life." I smiled. I have hope.
A 24 hour snow fall shuttered the government last Thursday, so I sat at the dining room table teleworking from my PC. Not the fasted machine in the camp, but it was a productive day. I pounded out a risk analysis of one of our major applications and was pleased with it. I saved it to my official encrypted flash drive, not saved it to my desktop. That was the last thing that happened before a sinister force took over my PC. In a matter of seconds all my applications and most of my files had been overwritten with some kind of software that looks like Office Word asking me to select the Asian language I wanted to work in.
"This can't be happening," I screamed by the computer. "I've got two kinds of anti-virus software. I back up my files to a cloud service every week," I moaned, thrusting my hands into the air, pleading to the computer gods.
I typed furiously, trying to find an application that worked, then I tried to access the flash drive. The machine didn't recognize it. I snapped out the flash-drive hoping against hope that it was not corrupted. It would be impossible to recreate the paper!
Thinking that I had been injured somehow, John rushed out of his home office. "What's happened? Are you alright?" I explained. Like the EMT volunteer he once was, he took direct and immediate action, "Disconnect from the Wi-Fi and then turn off your PC. You don't want the cloud service to do another backup now that everything has been overwritten." I did as I was told. My forehead fell onto the dead keyboard. I felt hopeless. It was like loosing a buddy, a reliable friend who was always there when I needed her. We'd spent over five years together.
John consoled me. "This can be fixed. It's not a fatal blow, but surgery is needed."
Today, I turned over my friend to the Geek Squad. The young woman gave me hope. "These old machines are sturdy. Don't buy a new one. Give us three or four days and we'll bring her back to life." I smiled. I have hope.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Mid-winter happenings
The weather continues to be cold, icy and gray. It's just plain miserable outside and I'm loaded with existential angst.
What is the meaning of living is such grayness? Daily life is not just routine; it's monotonous, no sparks of inspiration; no glimmers of sweet warm sun. Outside my window people shuffle themselves down the street, grocery bags in hand, scarfs wrapped around heads and necks to ward off the wind. I play endless games of solitaire attempting to beat the high scores of ghostly unnamed competitors. For what reason? Shouldn't I read? A year's worth of New Yorker magazines lay mostly unread expect for the cynical cartoons - at least they make me smile. My Kindle app is loaded with a new book I am reluctant to read. None of this makes sense. I wait for spring. My mind is numb.
The only hope I discover is to find pleasure is small things - a balancing game that sparks a fun moment; a baby shower that reminds us that a new generation will turn us into great grandparents one day; babysitting a friend's pet for a week to remind us why we love but don't have dogs anymore; a physical challenge that puts me in the gym three times a week with women half my age; a roasted chicken Sunday dinner occasionally to put us in our comfort zone; an alumni event eating hot dogs and slugging a bit of beer one evening to do service.
What is excitement during this gray time of year? My Fitbit got washed in the laundry this morning and survived. Our neighbor is helping us hook up an HDMI Video and Video player --Netflix, YouTube and the Internet now all on the big screen. New ways to enhance our couch potatoes-ness. Endless House of Cards chapters. No wonder people are reading less and enjoying it more.
With the sun and warmer weather angst will give way to anticipation as I can begin to imagine sailing again; outside runs through town; and open windows refreshing our rooms. Until then, I wring my hands and catch up on all the House of Cards chapters I missed since I first saw it on a long plane ride last September.
What is the meaning of living is such grayness? Daily life is not just routine; it's monotonous, no sparks of inspiration; no glimmers of sweet warm sun. Outside my window people shuffle themselves down the street, grocery bags in hand, scarfs wrapped around heads and necks to ward off the wind. I play endless games of solitaire attempting to beat the high scores of ghostly unnamed competitors. For what reason? Shouldn't I read? A year's worth of New Yorker magazines lay mostly unread expect for the cynical cartoons - at least they make me smile. My Kindle app is loaded with a new book I am reluctant to read. None of this makes sense. I wait for spring. My mind is numb.
What is excitement during this gray time of year? My Fitbit got washed in the laundry this morning and survived. Our neighbor is helping us hook up an HDMI Video and Video player --Netflix, YouTube and the Internet now all on the big screen. New ways to enhance our couch potatoes-ness. Endless House of Cards chapters. No wonder people are reading less and enjoying it more.
With the sun and warmer weather angst will give way to anticipation as I can begin to imagine sailing again; outside runs through town; and open windows refreshing our rooms. Until then, I wring my hands and catch up on all the House of Cards chapters I missed since I first saw it on a long plane ride last September.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
We haven't done what yet? Not again?
Why do we keep "doing" cards year after year? Is it about the need to let people know we are still alive? To brag about our adventures and mis-adventures? To keep the "tradition" going in a time of electronic instant messaging and texting? Maybe it is all of these reasons; but if the truth be known, I really enjoy opening a holiday card sent through the mail. I slow down for a moment to read the greeting, even the occasional note or holiday letter. It can all surprise me; make me smile, even laugh or once in a while, when the news is sad, make me sigh. However, not matter what the message, I am touched that someone remembered us and I want to do the same for them.
This year our cards will be a big surprise especially if they don't get sent before the twelfth day of Christmas.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Keeping up in London
And, to top it all off John and I slept until at least 10 AM every morning. True relaxation. It was a perfect week -- a perfect holiday to start the Christmas holiday.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Life after furlough - the thrill of the normal
Normal is the joy of the daily grind at work, then waking up once again at 3AM all perky and unable to sleep. I just can't sleep more than five hours without breaking out in a sweat or having weird dreams--like sailing down a highway in rush hour traffic wondering where all the cars came from-- that wake me up.
Normal is feeling healthy again after a week of "the crud" that kicked me flat on my back with a 102 fever, chills, smashing headache with full boar hacking and projectile vomiting. Not delightful, and definitely an ugly scene and I was a good patient. I lost a couple of pounds that I've been able to keep off. I take delight in small miracles.
Normal is my 67th birthday confirming that my mind and body no longer match. You know your old when your grandson is your date and you enjoy the company. Grandson was the youngest person in the packed theatre that night. It was tough navigating among the gray hairs with canes and ladies whose bottoms overflowed the chairs. He endured and the play was decent (Pride in the Falls of Autrey Mill, a tragic comedy of the suburbs). Probably wished his granddad had not flew off to Bali for a conference (at least that is what he said). When I asked him what it was like, he stated flatly, "The Caribbean, but it takes 30 hours to get here." Guess he really was there on business.
Normal is visiting our sail boat in dry dock on Saturday. The sole (aka floor) is refinished. Not a ding or scratch to be seen. Buster, the guy who repaired it, took great pride in the work. It's so beautiful, I may never have the nerve to wear shoes below decks again. Now, if we just had the mainsail, we'd be ready for action -- but wait--it's 40 degrees out and the boat, after eight months still needs a coat of bottom paint --the original reason we took her out of the water in the first place last March 28th. Now we morn for spring when we will have the final work done -- the bottom painted, the deck exterior decks cleaned and polished, "tuning" sail and radar lessons.
Normal is planning dessert for Thanksgiving dinner. We're going to friends. I'm making a killer apple tart with almond cream. Appropriately deadly, but non-traditional - a requirement for the event.
Normal is feeling healthy again after a week of "the crud" that kicked me flat on my back with a 102 fever, chills, smashing headache with full boar hacking and projectile vomiting. Not delightful, and definitely an ugly scene and I was a good patient. I lost a couple of pounds that I've been able to keep off. I take delight in small miracles.
Normal is my 67th birthday confirming that my mind and body no longer match. You know your old when your grandson is your date and you enjoy the company. Grandson was the youngest person in the packed theatre that night. It was tough navigating among the gray hairs with canes and ladies whose bottoms overflowed the chairs. He endured and the play was decent (Pride in the Falls of Autrey Mill, a tragic comedy of the suburbs). Probably wished his granddad had not flew off to Bali for a conference (at least that is what he said). When I asked him what it was like, he stated flatly, "The Caribbean, but it takes 30 hours to get here." Guess he really was there on business.
Normal is visiting our sail boat in dry dock on Saturday. The sole (aka floor) is refinished. Not a ding or scratch to be seen. Buster, the guy who repaired it, took great pride in the work. It's so beautiful, I may never have the nerve to wear shoes below decks again. Now, if we just had the mainsail, we'd be ready for action -- but wait--it's 40 degrees out and the boat, after eight months still needs a coat of bottom paint --the original reason we took her out of the water in the first place last March 28th. Now we morn for spring when we will have the final work done -- the bottom painted, the deck exterior decks cleaned and polished, "tuning" sail and radar lessons.
Normal is planning dessert for Thanksgiving dinner. We're going to friends. I'm making a killer apple tart with almond cream. Appropriately deadly, but non-traditional - a requirement for the event.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Diary of a Furloughed Fed: Day 16 -- The end
While driving last week out to apple picking territory, we spied a number of signs that announced "Deer crossing next mile". How do the deer know where to cross? Why are there no stoplights?
When girls get bored, girls go to lunch then get mani-pedis. I got brave and went dark polish on those old toes.
But wait, there is news -- the Tea Party has caved. With Boehner declaring just minutes ago that the government should re-open tomorrow, I am preparing to return to work on Thursday, Friday for sure. The votes in House and Senate are tonight. Affordable Health Care will endure. However, I worry that we will face this all again in the new year. This is not a time for congratulations. It is only a time to sigh and catch our breath.
It is very humbling to be forced out of work; to be sidelined. I had to put my trust in my team. They did good, but I certainly missed the action and the influence.
But wait, there is news -- the Tea Party has caved. With Boehner declaring just minutes ago that the government should re-open tomorrow, I am preparing to return to work on Thursday, Friday for sure. The votes in House and Senate are tonight. Affordable Health Care will endure. However, I worry that we will face this all again in the new year. This is not a time for congratulations. It is only a time to sigh and catch our breath.
It is very humbling to be forced out of work; to be sidelined. I had to put my trust in my team. They did good, but I certainly missed the action and the influence.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Diary of a Furloughed Fed: Day 11 - Glimmers of hope?
I woke this morning to an 8AM session with my trainer and a dwindling list of "things to do". Depressive thoughts are starting to set in -- I'm easily upset about nothing and I "just want to be alone", as Marlene Detrick was alleged to say. But a glimmer of hope is on the horizon -- an audience yelled at Ted Cruz's ranting and the two sides are talking in private instead of just shouting over the air waves. How can health care for millions of people who neither can't afford it or who have been turned down because of pre-existing conditions be "the worse thing that has ever happened to this nation since slavery?" Is there no empathy left in people? Do they really think our society can thrive without a safety net to ensure the safety, health and education of vulnerable citizens? Don't they understand Maslow's hierarchy of needs? It's useless for me to carry on....I will wait for the outcome. No matter what the solution, I will return to work eventually.
Not knowing when I will go back to work is at the root of my frustration. Not working is fine. I've had time to do all those chores I never had time to do; however, I need a purpose, and purpose takes time to develop. It's like living in a purgatory; a place in between, being neither fish nor fowl. I'm ready to begin studying for my sailing license. I've accumulated the required helm experience hours. It will take 3-6 months of almost full time work to prepare -- both online and classroom sessions. Living from day to day as I am now, makes the needed commitment shaky. Without some solid blocks of time, I won't do well. I know myself -- immersion is my learning style.
Last week the weather here in DC was perfect for sailing; however, the water continues to allude us. We are waiting for the delivery of the mainsail and the completion of the refinishing of the boat's sole (the internal flooring). Looks like we will leave Forte Vento on the hard until spring and take delivery then.
This week the weather is wet, clammy and gray. Very apropos for the current government shutdown situation and it saddens me. Perhaps, as Annie sings, "Tomorrow, tomorrow the sun will come out." I can hope.
Not knowing when I will go back to work is at the root of my frustration. Not working is fine. I've had time to do all those chores I never had time to do; however, I need a purpose, and purpose takes time to develop. It's like living in a purgatory; a place in between, being neither fish nor fowl. I'm ready to begin studying for my sailing license. I've accumulated the required helm experience hours. It will take 3-6 months of almost full time work to prepare -- both online and classroom sessions. Living from day to day as I am now, makes the needed commitment shaky. Without some solid blocks of time, I won't do well. I know myself -- immersion is my learning style.
Last week the weather here in DC was perfect for sailing; however, the water continues to allude us. We are waiting for the delivery of the mainsail and the completion of the refinishing of the boat's sole (the internal flooring). Looks like we will leave Forte Vento on the hard until spring and take delivery then.
This week the weather is wet, clammy and gray. Very apropos for the current government shutdown situation and it saddens me. Perhaps, as Annie sings, "Tomorrow, tomorrow the sun will come out." I can hope.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Diary of a Furloughed Fed: Day 8 Frustrations
People are starting to worry about next month's lease or home payments and starting to live off their credit cards. I worry as well for them and for our work which is "on hold" as deployment deadlines that affect our ~68 offices around the world slip by. My small staff of 11 "excepted" people is definitely barely able to "keep the lights on" and hoping a disaster doesn't hit us anywhere.
I feel we are but pawns in a great battle and must remind myself that it is an important battle. The Affordable Health Care Act was passed by Congress and declared Constitutional by the Supreme Court -- to not fund it is close to an act of treason by the right wing extremists. I also believe that if Obama was not an African American their vitriolic hate language would be muted and there would be much less strength in the grass roots population that seem willing to follow the Koch brothers and Edwin Meese to the brink. Don't they understand that the ACA is benefiting them already? My girlfriend, a runner in excellent health at 55, was denied coverage and had to live without insurance for over a year because of a comment a doctor wrote on her chart. Only after she became employed by a firm that provided health care coverage did she get relief. Today, that would never have happened. Denying coverage is illegal because of the ACA. How is that taking away her freedom by the government?
Friday, October 4, 2013
Diary of a Furlooughed Fed: Day 4_Home Improvement
I felt like a resurrected old lady this morning after my 8 AM training session so with no money, water bottle or game plan I took off for a Potomac River run. I did have my music that I had just downloaded from my updated music in the cloud. Billy Joel and Cindy Lauper make me feel invincible.
I ran east on route 50 then passed through the Iwo Jima Memorial. Hooked a loop to route 110 that rounds Arlington Cemetery. Once on top in front of the cemetery entrance, I crossed the street, walking to catch my breath and headed for the Potomac. By the time I was running toward Roosevelt Island, my body began to tell me what I fool I had become. But, I persevered with a combination of short sprints and long walks to make it back to Roslyn and finally back on route 50 east to home.
Being 66 is like being a kid -- you can't judge what you are capable. Kids grow stronger, able to do what they couldn't do a few years ago. I can't do what I did just of few years ago. A bad case of reverse expectations. I sweat, I sighed, but I did make it back home. It's amazing how good a very long hot shower can feel at 11 in the morning.
The main project today was "home improvement"-- I installed small soft close mechanisms make your less than high end cabinets behave like designer selections. Husband gave little guidance as I struggled with drill that was supposed to work around close quarter corners.
I pushed aside this "guy" technology, found a good sized Phillips screw driver, a hammer and tap screw and began an exercise in upper body and arm action. Within three hours, I installed these clever mechanisms in 28 cabinets. I was about to put them on the bathroom cabinets (the last six), but I my body gave out once again. Tomorrow morning will see them done is less than a hour.
The work was extremely satisfying. I just wish my federal job was always this satisfying with results that are so evident. Ahhhhhh......
I ran east on route 50 then passed through the Iwo Jima Memorial. Hooked a loop to route 110 that rounds Arlington Cemetery. Once on top in front of the cemetery entrance, I crossed the street, walking to catch my breath and headed for the Potomac. By the time I was running toward Roosevelt Island, my body began to tell me what I fool I had become. But, I persevered with a combination of short sprints and long walks to make it back to Roslyn and finally back on route 50 east to home.
Being 66 is like being a kid -- you can't judge what you are capable. Kids grow stronger, able to do what they couldn't do a few years ago. I can't do what I did just of few years ago. A bad case of reverse expectations. I sweat, I sighed, but I did make it back home. It's amazing how good a very long hot shower can feel at 11 in the morning.
I pushed aside this "guy" technology, found a good sized Phillips screw driver, a hammer and tap screw and began an exercise in upper body and arm action. Within three hours, I installed these clever mechanisms in 28 cabinets. I was about to put them on the bathroom cabinets (the last six), but I my body gave out once again. Tomorrow morning will see them done is less than a hour.
The work was extremely satisfying. I just wish my federal job was always this satisfying with results that are so evident. Ahhhhhh......
Diary of a Furloughed Fed: Day 2 (actually Day3)
Day 2 is actually Day 3 according to the news reports-- Monday was a half day so I stand corrected. Anyway, it was technology day. After promising myself to do it forever, I took the plunge. A bit of research, downloading and experimentation, I now have access to my contacts, calendars, photos and my music on all my "devices" using Apple's iCloud technology. The only kink is that my iPhone is too aged (all of 2011) to do iCloud so tomorrow I'll upgrade to an iPhone 5. A walk up to the Apple store (sometimes I just need to talk with a real human being) was needed to figure out my iPhone situation.
A furlough day made this possible. Normally, there are too many more important chores to do. I felt like I've caught a break.
A note from my business partner was most encouraging. She told me to enjoy not having commitments and meetings and that having total control over my own time is a most terrific alternative to the past 40 years of work. I'm not sure I agree yet, but in another day or two, I may agree with her.
Had a small dinner party - more of a picnic fest - roasted BBQ chicken wings and Caesar salad complete with homemade dressings and croutons. The oldest grandson, now a college freshman at GW, just two metro stops away, and a furloughed girlfriend joined us. It felt good to have the time to cook up a fun meal. There was nothing left - not even a crouton.
More tomorrow....looks like we are in this for some time.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Diary of a Furloughed Fed: Day 1
How do I make the days meaningful -- after all this is not a vacation where meaningful action is sauntering down quaint streets and souvenir hunting. This is a furlough -- time off with no pay -- so my favorite pastime, recreational shopping is out of the question.
My answer is to take action -- "just do it" like the Nike ad says. So I did and I'm able to say that at 4PM, I'm sane. I:
- Figured out how to stay connected to those left at work outside of our official communications channels. Just knowing what is happening, even if I can't do anything about anything, helps to keep me grounded.
- Didn't oversleep. I gifted myself an extra 20 minutes, but then got out of bed to start the day.
- Went for a run after coffee and a quick scan of the New York Times. It was delightful to not have to wait until the weekend and after work for exercise. Fresh cool air and sunshine made me happy, if sweaty.
- Tackled a few chores of that long list of "things that should be done." I feel like I have accomplished something during the day, so there is not fog enveloping my head to stunt my ability to think positively.
- Took a trip to see what was up. The metro and mall were sparsely populated and the buildings, monuments and parks were locked. Many security guards on Segway's hovered around. Gave me the feeling that we are truly "locked out" of our own town.
- Grocery shopped in the afternoon. That's what retired people do so I thought I practice. I was able to test the fruit for ripeness without being jostled.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Vacation views
Several readers asked for pictures that illustrate our recent trip. Well, here they are -- the good, the bad and the silly in no particular order. We started out in Milan (2 days), drove north west to Lake Orte (3 days) where the Italians go to avoid Lake Como; then drove east to the medieval city of Bergamo (4 days) that included a one day side trip to Verona to see the ancient coliseum and have the most fabulous meal of our trip; and then drove back to Milan (2 days). We only got lost big time once -- when I tried to navigate with three maps that all used different names for the same streets. Very Italian :-)
Furloughed!
We escaped Italy one day before the Italian government went into its annual crisis when Berlusconi's mad men withdrew from the Parliamentary coalition government. We landed at Dulles airport only three days away from our own government crisis. So, this morning, I found myself along with 58 of my staff saying goodbye to a skeletal crew of 11 who are charged with keeping the electrons flowing and the core systems operating.
I am now officially unemployed by Congressional decree. It's no longer an abstract issue for me. It became personal today. A surprisingly sad and eerie feeling overcame me as I walked to the elevator, watching myself leave as if I was having an out of body experience. I have no idea when I might return. I have a job, but then I don't. Financially, I'm fine, but I do worry about the many staff who are single, or more seriously parents with no other sources of income to assist in keeping it together during the shutdown.
I fear we are in for a long shutdown. Neither Obama nor Boehner seem open to compromise, appearing to intensely dislike each other as evidenced by their adamant public pronouncements that make private discussions next to impossible. When Newt and Bill went head to head in 1995-1996, the government was out for three weeks -- and they talked with each other daily -- and were careful not to say anything publicly that might harm private discussions. At our last senior staff meeting this morning, many including myself were not hopeful that an agreement would be reached quickly and predicted that we will remain shut out until the debt ceiling is exceeded on October 17, pushing the economy back into a recession.
We are hostages in a game not of our own making. We are the pawns in a grand chess match where little adult leadership is evident. Ours lives have been abstracted to the point that the impact of it all on our lives is neither visible nor felt to the game players. It would have been better if the shutdown had included stopping congressional salaries, the mail and the distribution of social security checks. Then, at least, the rest of the country would feel what I feel and there would be a realistic incentive to reach a workable compromise.
Where do I stand on the situation? The Affordable Health Care Act should be implemented. It was passed by Congress and upheld by the Supreme Court. Every adult American should be required to carry health insurance, just like we are required to have auto insurance or homeowners insurance. Is it a perfect solution? No--but we need to give the law a chance to become reality and then modify it where the evidence says changes are needed. Right now it's all about hurly opinions and conjecture into the air.
The last shutdown cost the US economy $2 billion. Enough said. From Washington DC -- the land of much silliness.
I am now officially unemployed by Congressional decree. It's no longer an abstract issue for me. It became personal today. A surprisingly sad and eerie feeling overcame me as I walked to the elevator, watching myself leave as if I was having an out of body experience. I have no idea when I might return. I have a job, but then I don't. Financially, I'm fine, but I do worry about the many staff who are single, or more seriously parents with no other sources of income to assist in keeping it together during the shutdown.
I fear we are in for a long shutdown. Neither Obama nor Boehner seem open to compromise, appearing to intensely dislike each other as evidenced by their adamant public pronouncements that make private discussions next to impossible. When Newt and Bill went head to head in 1995-1996, the government was out for three weeks -- and they talked with each other daily -- and were careful not to say anything publicly that might harm private discussions. At our last senior staff meeting this morning, many including myself were not hopeful that an agreement would be reached quickly and predicted that we will remain shut out until the debt ceiling is exceeded on October 17, pushing the economy back into a recession.
We are hostages in a game not of our own making. We are the pawns in a grand chess match where little adult leadership is evident. Ours lives have been abstracted to the point that the impact of it all on our lives is neither visible nor felt to the game players. It would have been better if the shutdown had included stopping congressional salaries, the mail and the distribution of social security checks. Then, at least, the rest of the country would feel what I feel and there would be a realistic incentive to reach a workable compromise.
Where do I stand on the situation? The Affordable Health Care Act should be implemented. It was passed by Congress and upheld by the Supreme Court. Every adult American should be required to carry health insurance, just like we are required to have auto insurance or homeowners insurance. Is it a perfect solution? No--but we need to give the law a chance to become reality and then modify it where the evidence says changes are needed. Right now it's all about hurly opinions and conjecture into the air.
The last shutdown cost the US economy $2 billion. Enough said. From Washington DC -- the land of much silliness.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Impressions: Bergamo
We've gone native. Instead of a sequestered hotel with maid service and concierge support, we've rented an apartment in the lower city (bassa citia) of Bergamo. Faced with the reality of no breakfast as part of the deal, we found the grocery store (billa) and picked our way among the familar yet unfamiliar aisles of products. Try to find skim milk in Italian. Luckily the tomatoes and eggs look like tomatoes and eggs. However, they do not refrigerate eggs.
A big advantage of an apartment (Italians have not yet discovered the affordable Embassy Suites) is that you have lots of room to spread out. We've strewn clothes and stuff all over the place without having to fill up the bed. And, we eat breakfast in, brew coffee and tea, keep in touch via wifi, and generally make ourselves at home. The down side is that the studio is a renovated attic, four floors up from the street with only a tiny lift covering two of the floors. The decor is ikea, young guy black and white modern sprinkled with an old wood chest, antique wash stand and hand carved doors to the bath. It's clean, but like any young man's place, it is missing finishes and good reading light. The TV is completely Italian. The parking two blocks away in a centro underground parking lot. We are making do and proving that living "Italian" is not as romatic as imagined.
Bergamo is a mid-size city, kind of like Baltimore without an inner harbour. The upper city is accessed via funicolare or many steep cobblestone stairs. There the buildings date back into the 10th -13th century. New buildings are 17-18th century. We did our fill of tourists and catherdrals -- all quite maginificant -- a testament to the Catholic Church's role in keeping the economy alive for so many centuries. There isn't a piece of sandstone or marble that is not carved or polished in some manner.
Food is bi-polar -- Italian pastas with Swiss meats and sauces. Didn't know if I should yodel and just say "Grazie" at the end of the meal. As long as you wash it down with the inexpensive but surprisingly good local white wine, all is well.
A big advantage of an apartment (Italians have not yet discovered the affordable Embassy Suites) is that you have lots of room to spread out. We've strewn clothes and stuff all over the place without having to fill up the bed. And, we eat breakfast in, brew coffee and tea, keep in touch via wifi, and generally make ourselves at home. The down side is that the studio is a renovated attic, four floors up from the street with only a tiny lift covering two of the floors. The decor is ikea, young guy black and white modern sprinkled with an old wood chest, antique wash stand and hand carved doors to the bath. It's clean, but like any young man's place, it is missing finishes and good reading light. The TV is completely Italian. The parking two blocks away in a centro underground parking lot. We are making do and proving that living "Italian" is not as romatic as imagined.
Bergamo is a mid-size city, kind of like Baltimore without an inner harbour. The upper city is accessed via funicolare or many steep cobblestone stairs. There the buildings date back into the 10th -13th century. New buildings are 17-18th century. We did our fill of tourists and catherdrals -- all quite maginificant -- a testament to the Catholic Church's role in keeping the economy alive for so many centuries. There isn't a piece of sandstone or marble that is not carved or polished in some manner.
Food is bi-polar -- Italian pastas with Swiss meats and sauces. Didn't know if I should yodel and just say "Grazie" at the end of the meal. As long as you wash it down with the inexpensive but surprisingly good local white wine, all is well.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Impressions: Como
Saturday. Sunny day. We drive to Como, one of the most dense resort towns in Italy tucked into the crevices of mountains swooping down into the lake. Insane. What were we thinking? A leisurely lunch on the lake? Impossible.
It was easy to escape. Just follow the signs to Bergamo-Lecco SS342. Almost two hours later and too many round abouts across the foothills, we arrive Bergamo, tired and hungry.
It was easy to escape. Just follow the signs to Bergamo-Lecco SS342. Almost two hours later and too many round abouts across the foothills, we arrive Bergamo, tired and hungry.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Impressions: Lake Orta San Giulio
If there is a heaven, then San Giulio could be what it is like. The lake is nestled in the Italian mountains north west of Milan about one hour if you can follow directions. We took a left when we should have taken a right on the A8 so we had to back track on local roads after stopping to ask directions. An adventure as always as John drives the manual shift car and I navigate.
Our hotel is at the bottom of the San Giulio town square. It overlooks the lake and the historic island on which nuns are cloistered in the Basilica. We must park the car up in a lot outside the square. Cars are not allowed except for residents and "drop off" like ourselves. The streets are cobblestone lined with the building walls that are full of scrapes. I know it is like heaven for the following reasons:
Our hotel is at the bottom of the San Giulio town square. It overlooks the lake and the historic island on which nuns are cloistered in the Basilica. We must park the car up in a lot outside the square. Cars are not allowed except for residents and "drop off" like ourselves. The streets are cobblestone lined with the building walls that are full of scrapes. I know it is like heaven for the following reasons:
- Four languages are spoken - Italian, English, French and German - without disdain by the locals.
- Out of our hotel room between our toes, we see mountains, the clear blue Orta lake and the Basilica isle overwhelmed with ancient structures that are now modern homes. It is all reminiscent of Venice where the houses and water meet.
- In the center of the San Giulio peninsula is a mountain atop which, after a one hour completely 15 degree uphill walk is a world heritage site of 20 chapels built between 1597 and 1660. Each has a piece of St. Francis' life depicted in statuary and trompe l'oeil painted walls. If I were Catholic I would have been on pilgrimage.
- The morning is crisp--easy for walking. The afternoon - sunny and breezy ready for a cruiser ride across the lake to the isle. The evening is cool again, ready for sitting out with a sweater to gaze at the mountains as the sun sets in the west and play rummy 500 while we drink our newest find -- blueberry grappa.
- The food makes you forget American cuisine -- we just finished lunch -- light tagliatelli with fresh slices of black truffles and a veal chop flattened "elephant ear style" so tender than it melted in my mouth. This was preceded a sea bass capriccio served with fresh peaches set in a bit on ever so fine olive oil.
- The local white wine is crisp, creamy yet dry if a bit tart. It is also less than 15 euros a bottle in the restaurants.
- The streets are narrow, ancient, built into the mountain and speckled with shops and restaurants tucked into the stone and brick buildings.
- You can walk the perimeter of the peninsula after dinner on a stone walk that wraps the land. If you stay out too lake, lamp post lights brightened the path so you do not mistakenly fall into the lake.
Yes, this could be what heaven is like, except we do have to pay for our Internet connection and sit in the hotel lobby to access it. Maybe this is a good thing. Ciao!
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