License to thrill

The U.S. government has seen fit to allow me to leave the country, molest foreign women and the more attractive domesticated animals, and then return…yes, I have my passport.

Hrm.  On further reading of the passport literature and local laws, that molesting thing isn’t included.  Drat.  On the other hand, The Scarf is in my passport picture.

For the curious, the first stop is likely either Scotland or Toronto…but that’ll wait until Summer and *some* sort of resolution of my job status.

Spring Break.  Massive decompression (much spelunking this weekend)…and trying to prove that the last three were just coincidences.  I’m taking it back.

OK–time’s up—get ’em in

Final papers due, and the file slams shut at 10am.  About half the class turned in drafts, which is about normal…only had one go as far as a third draft, but his paper is *so* much better than what he started with.   Which I think is the goal.

Getting out of bed this morning required a lot of internal bargaining.  Kinda chilly.

But soon…grading.  And thence, spring break.

Ah, finally the end approaches

No sleep meds=no sleep, but that’s hardly surprising.  But, it’s Finals Week.  Huzzah!  Got *four* drafts e-mailed to me on sunday night.  Late.  They’re due on Wednesday, so we’ll see how quickly I can grind through them.  wheeeeeee?

Plus, I have the scarf back.

Reason #14,211 that the Internet is the Coolest Thing Ever

One of my best friends from junior high had my name pop into his head, googled me, and wrote me an e-mail (Mom–you’re the only one who’d know…but it’s Josh Dixon).

Eventually, there will be nowhere left for me to hide.  Except the batcave.  And that’s a secret.  But at least no longer flooded.

Final, but not the final-Final

Doing review for the Final test in my Corrosion class; their final papers are due next week; so there should be a slightly broad sense of panic.  But we shall see.

Michelle (the gardening neuroscientist) dropped by this weekend, and claimed her stake in my yard, and then started talking the way Mom does…I still don’t get plants.  I mostly smiled and nodded, and promised not to use any noxious chemicals on her garden area.  the front yard, on the other hand, gets weed-and-feeded this weekend, since we’ll have a few rainless days.  Die, dandys, die.  And I’ll probably anti-moss again.  And figure out if Home Despot or Lowe’s delivers, since a 15′ ladder won’t fit in the Miata, and I need to restock the slinky (hopefully, finding compact fluorescents with that weird thread)


Putting the heck in check

My Payroll saga gets closer and closer to dropping the -omic in tragicomic.  At least we found my offer letter and the permission to pay me…in the Dean’s Office…still.

Also…I know *way* too much about my baby brother’s huevos than I really should.  On the plus side, I know that nothing’s wrong, which sort of makes up for it.

I hate migraines

At some point, we go from tragicomic to something else

So,in the continuing saga of trying to get me paid for my research work since September, we have *just* about reached the point where Payroll says that there’s no money for me, that I don’t actually exist, and that VanWinkle is *such* a fake name.

I am officially our admin’s “Problem Child”, and all of my paperwork has been written on flash paper with invisible ink, it appears.

On the plus side, it looks like I don’t have to worry about making the cross-campus walk to the cashier’s office this week.  So I got *that* going for me.

Money, money, who’s got the money.

Apparently, the Payroll department is under strict orders to never return my calls.  I have two payroll specialists that could cover me…having not heard from them before, I called them both yesterday (one at 0830, the other at 1315)…not a peep.  I think they’re just stalling on me, because if they can get the paperwork past thursday, there will be no reason for me to get checks for the missed research payroll (from september…now), and just have it added to the March check.  Clever they are.  Money, I want.  Sigh.  Had this all been fixed in February, the difficulty level would be half of what it is now.  Maybe that’s why they’re not calling.

And they’re likely to call today, knowing I’m off doctorin’.  Clever and evil.


If there would be a term for how I treat my yard, it would be ‘benign neglect’.  Which is kind of problematic, because the thing is *huge*.  However, there is tiny hope.  My friend Michelle (the one doing neuroscience research up at OHSU) just bought a condo, and has no yard, and a yen to do yardwork.  And a garden.

w00t, I say.  w00t.  Between she and Mom…and several years…it could look like a grownup’s yard again.  OK, that’s a stretch, but still.

Never let ’em see you sweat…but it’s fun watching them sweat….

Ah, Midterm day.  Festive Hawaiian shirt in place, bright red Chucks gleaming.  My only goals are to a) stay awake and b) not sing along with my iPod.

And, word from Mom is that the Scarf has been saved from my clumsiness.  All hail.

Now all I have to get past is the stupid nausea from the new med; they say it could last ‘up to two weeks’, which I think means ‘at least two weeks’.  But it’s getting better.  Now, time to see if I’ve managed to transfer any knowledge…