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Whack on the Head
Be Foolish, Break the Rules, Be Impractical, Get Out of the Box, Look for "Wrong" Answers, Seek Ambiguity, Make Mistakes... |
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Saturday, July 31, 1999
One year ago: Weepy
Two years ago: The Summer of a Dormouse
I have a new office mate, and will until I leave my current job at the end of next week. K--- is a web developer joining our team. I don't think he'll be taking care of the things I've done on a permanent basis, but sitting next to me and watching over my shoulder is a good way to get familiar with our little area on the web.
I bolted from the office at three thirty, and headed north. Sitting in traffic is frustrating! A trip north to Bellingham (on Friday afternoons, anyway) takes over three hours. A trip south to Seattle (Sunday afternoon or evening) takes only an hour and a half!
One incident: I was crawling along on 405, a multi-lane freeway. A pickup truck was alongside me, full of young guys that I identified as construction workers. One began shouting, "Where are the hooters?!" I thought, irritatedly, "Don't you get enough time to harrass women on the building site? Must you yell at random women in cars, too?" I felt angered, and a bit nervous, since I thought they were shouting at me. Then I glanced over at the lane that was merging in, and saw the true object of their shouts -- a white van with the words, "Hooters Scooter" painted on the side. One couldn't call comments directed at such a van unsolicited!
Jack and his daughter weren't home when I got there, but this happened before, so I wasn't worried. I walked to the small store, a few blocks away, and bought a cold bottle of club soda. I passed the time reading more of A Suitable Boy. It's a very luxurious feeling, to be reading and enjoying a book and knowing that you won't be finishing it for a while. It's like sinking into a warm bath.
After an hour, I was hungry and a bit concerned. I decided to go get something to eat, so I drove to the historic district of Fairhaven nearby, and grabbed a small salad and a samosa at "The European Cafe," which was mysteriously empty. Back to my parking space at Jack's place. By this time, I was getting a bit concerned. What if Jack had gotten an emergency call? I didn't have the postit with his cell-phone number on it. We've been dating a year, and, to my shame, I don't have his number memorized! This is because we email each other far more often than we call. How late should I wait there? I was starting to think about going to call my sister, and asking her to look up his number, when Jack and his daughter drove up.
Jack was very concerned and apologetic. He'd known I was coming, but since I hadn't specified that I'd be up Friday evening, he assumed I meant Saturday morning! Imagine! Of course, if I have the chance to be with him, I'm going to spend two nights, not one.
* * * * * * * *
Jack's place looks much smaller, of course, now that all his stuff has been delivered. He's still in the throes of unpacking. We did some work on this project, this morning. He did some unpacking in his office/bedroom, and H--- and I worked on the books in the living room. I did three tall bookcases of science fiction hardbacks, while H--- was puzzled by some mixed boxes of fiction and non-fiction, with some SF that had crept in. We made a reasonable dent in the pile of boxes. To unpack all of them, Jack will need to get more bookshelves, and the fact that Costco is now carrying a slightly different style of shelf (the molding at the top wouldn't match) has caused a few rants from him.
I did some kitchen cleanup after finishing my quota of boxes. I think I'm more bugged by dishes and clutter at Jack's house than I am at my own, which seems fussy and rude of me. I think it might be because the new place is an open plan from the kitchen, by the front door, through a dining area and all the way to the living area at the other end. There's no way to avoid seeing it all! In my own apartment, I have a separate kitchen so I don't look at dishes, pots or pans. Anyway, I didn't begrudge the work, and merely pointed and said, "Doesn't the kitchen look nice? I want a lot of praise and strokes, please."
* * * * * * * *
In the afternoon, we took a jaunt out to Birch Bay, a matter of twenty five miles or so. Somehow this place has marketed itself as a resort town. I don't really understand why, since there isn't good ocean swimming or particularly wonderful weather. There were lots of cute little vacation homes and cabins, and very wide tidal flats in the bay itself.
Our reason for the trip was to visit the water park there, called "Wet and Wild," I think. It's a small-scale place, suited to the small town, but it was packed with visitors! We changed into our suits and got in line for one of the slides.
For each one of the four slides on the hill, we waited in one line, got handed a vinyl "inner tube" with handles attached (from a descended slider), then climbed a staircase that wound around the hill among the slides. At a platform on the top, we could pick which slide to go down; I always chose to go on the same slide as Jack and H---.
The first time, I was rather nervous, and found that I was holding my breath! The speed, the way I slid back and forth and climbed the walls on the curves, the plunge into the landing pool (closing my eyes so I wouldn't lose my contact lenses) -- all were rather nerve-wracking. I was relieved when the ride was over.
We walked over to a tall tower, where there two other slides. One was an almost verticle drop for five stories, then a horizontal section to slow the user down to a stop -- result: the atomic wedgie! The other slide was called the Black Hole, a slide consisting entirely of tunnels, almost totally dark inside. I sat on a bench while Jack and H did this one together.
We swam for a short time in the "normal" pool, then did a "river-raft" style of ride where all three of us could go together. I'd recovered my nerve by that time, so we returned to the hill. I had no problems on the next one -- I controlled my speed slightly with my feet. Jack fell out of his tube and banged his forehead; it is possible to go too high up the side wall if you are going fast! But it was just a bump. I felt brave enough then to tackle the Black Hole, going in a double tube with Jack. I liked it! I was shrieking a bit, but it felt about like a roller coaster -- fast, but not too terrifying.
We had some ice cream, then tackled the last two slides on the hill. My bathing suit straps had loosened from being wet, or from my position sitting in the tube, so the folks at the landing pool got a free show as I flashed them for a second! Jack howled, and I figured I might as well laugh, also, since it had already happened and was past mending. Our last run on that hill ended with me getting a noseful of water.
But I was recovered enough to do the Black Hole one more time. Jack and I climbed up the metal stairs, with cold water dripping on us. We got into the pool at the start of the slide and got ourselves situated, then the slide worker got us going.
We were immediately swirling around in pitch blackness, as before. But this time, something went wrong! I felt a "whack" on the side of my head, and I was on my side in the water. Jack wasn't in our inner tube ahead of me, but was holding on. Ow! I was so glad to see the light glimmering ahead. Then we were in the landing pool, trying to get out. Jack had hit his head also, in the same spot that he'd bumped before. He was bleeding from there, and from his elbow. My skin was unbroken.
We grabbed the backpack that was holding our towels and stuff, and walked to the office/first aid center. We were fairly calm, in spite of the gore. The first aid guy came right away, and administered ice and pressure, cleaning up Jack's cut and checking our pupils. We sat for a while there, then on a bench outside in the sun, holding our matching plastic bags of ice to our heads, until we felt ready to dress and go home.
* * * * * * * *
Jack really got whacked worse than I did, so I felt sorry that he ended up with a very frustrating evening. He's on call at his office. They take turns doing tech support, which saves money for the company, I guess. But first the person who was beeping him misspoke, then couldn't figure out how to find the phone number to contact someone who would be able to help. Jack tried to dial in remotely to look up the phone number, but although he was supposed to have the correct permissions, he didn't! So he had to drive in to the plant and take care of things that way. Very frustrating, but this is one time when living five minutes away paid off.
While he was dealing with this stuff (and a bad headache), H--- and I watched Anastasia on video. I didn't care for it much. The subplot about a curse from Rasputin was entirely unnecessary; I'd rather have seen a movie without supernatural elements! And Anastasia's weird eyes were creeping me out.
* * * * * * * *
The title for this entry comes from A Whack on the Side of the Head, the book Chip gave each new group member, last Wednesday. I read some of it over the weekend. Good stuff on creativity and all, but I never expected to get whacked on the head, literally!
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