The cable guy came out yesterday to install a new cable box that includes TiVo. ::GEEK ALERT:: It also records in HDTV and you can record two different programs at the same time, unlike the TiVo box we currently have. ::END GEEK ALERT:: BJ was so excited about this new addition to our family that he decided to take the afternoon off so he could be here for the cable guy. I casually mentioned that since I telecommute three days a week, I could easily schedule the event for a day that I was home. I was quickly reminded that TV's and A/V gadgets in general are his gig. OK then.

My one request was that we keep our current TiVo box for my guilty pleasures, such as reality TV, CourtTV, anything that involves plastic surgery, and of course, anything that might include my celebrity boyfriend(s). BJ frowns on some of my viewing choices, so this is a way to keep abreast of the current events (fake or fiction) yet continue to be on that pedistal (fake or fiction) that he has me on.

BJ stopped the cable guy when he started to disconnect the existing TiVo, telling him that the existing Tivo was for "my wife to record her trash TV". He further offered that I specifically asked him not to look in my TiVo recordings once I got my own box. BJ told me that the look on cable guy's face indicated that he thought hubby was referring to porn, and was kind of giving him the eyebrow. You know that look. It's part of the guy code for "Wow, your wife is into that? You lucky dog!" All that was missing was the 'wink, wink'- 'nudge, nudge'.

BJ quickly set the record straight and let him know that the 'trash' TV he was talking about was Dr. Phil and Oprah, to which the guy just nodded his head and said, "Oh, gotcha", almost in a consoling sort of way. Of course, this is hubby's version.

Dr. Phil? I think we need to schedule a show....

I'm often asked, "RisibleGirl, don't you get tired of eating cheese?"

To that I answer, "NO!"

(ok, nobody has ever asked me that. I just know that it's at the top of the list of life's mysteries)

I thought I was going to have a really funny story to tell about my commute this morning. Instead, it turned into a lesson in sensitivity. Sometimes I need those reminders.There is a woman who rides my train that is a buffoon. I know, you're probably thinking that I haven't learned that sensitivity lesson very well. Well, she's not the one who taught me that lesson. Once I'm finished with my story, you'll know why I STILL think she's a buffoon.

This woman happens to ride the same car as me, gets on and off the same stop as me, and annoys me every Tuesday and Thursday (the days I go into the office.) She is in everybody's business, and very loud about it. For instance, someone mentioned that she was going to apply for a new job. The buffoon said (*LOUDLY*... I have to reiterate that in case my point wasn't clear), "Wow, $25.00 an hour. That's WAY more than you make now."

I would have been mortified if I were this woman.I know that I could take a different car, but this car is convenient. I can usually tune her out. Not today though.This particular car is the front car of the train. One of the managers (that's my assumption based on the fact that the conductor calls him "boss" and sometimes he holds impromptu staff meetings) and his secretary of the Department of Transportation (DOT) also ride in this particular car. They get on at the stop after mine and usually sit at the same table, a table that is across from the buffoon's typical seat.

This morning an African American (yes, using this additional adjective is important to the story) woman was sitting at the DOT employee's table, and had her bags sitting on the chair next to her. One of the rules about riding the train is that you must always make room for all passengers. Luggage racks are above the seats to store your belongings and you are advised that you are to use those, rather than the seats, as your personal storage area.

The DOT employees boarded the train and the manager asked the woman if he can sit in the seat where her bags are sitting. She said "No, my bags are here" and offered no further explanation. Suddenly the game on my PDA didn't seem nearly as interesting anymore. I wanted to see how this would play out.

Apparently the DOT manager didn't have a mouth from which to speak because the buffoon said LOUDLY, "There is a luggage rack above your head for your bags. Put them up there."

The passenger then said, "I don't want to put my things up there. I have valuables in my bag and they are going to stay right where they are." At that point, the DOT manager quietly (note: quietly) said to the passenger, "that's ok" and moved to another car.

Buffoon: That's against the rules. You are supposed to move your bags.
Passenger reiterates: I'm NOT moving my bags. They're staying right here. Leave me alone.
Buffoon: You don't know who you were messing with. The person who wanted to sit next to you could kick you off the train immediately.
Me: (thinking) Wow, I have a feeling this will make for a great blog entry.

In came the security guard who also happens to be an Africa American woman.

Buffoon: Go have a talk with your 'sister' (I'm NOT lying... she really did say that.)
Security Guard: Just because we're both black does NOT mean she's my sister
Me: Completely mortified at what just occurred, yet not really surprised that the buffoon would say such a stupid thing.

The security guard walked over to the passenger and said something quietly to her. I'm assuming she's telling her to move her bag because there are still two more stops.

Passenger: Don't come up on me all sideways like that. I'm trying to study for my test. I am NOT moving my bags. Just leave me alone.The security guard then told her it's ok, and to just study. Then she walked away.

Personally, I thought that was the right thing to do. The whole thing didn't need to escalate to that degree. Thankfully, the buffoon shut her yapper.

Here comes the part where I learn the lesson in sensitivity.Up until that point I was thinking that the passenger was just being stubborn and I thought she should have moved her belongings. I did not think, however, that such a big deal should have been made of the situation. Yeah, I'm talking to you BUFFOON LADY.

Twenty minutes or so had passed and the security guard came back to our car with the handbook and calmly showed the passenger the section in the rule book pertaining to this situation. The passenger then went on to explain that normally she does follow this rule, but she has a big test this morning that will greatly impact her grade. She went on to tell the security guard why it was so important that she pass this class, and that when she is under this much stress she is forgetful. She explained that she was going to have to rush off the train to make it to her class on time, then said that she was afraid that if her bag was up in the luggage rack, she'd forget it.The items in the bag were for a family member that she had to help out after she takes this class.

As she continued explaining the situation, I started thinking to myself that I rush to judgment too quickly. I made a judgment that she was being stubborn and that there was nothing more to her story. I judged her because I get annoyed at people who think they "own" all of the seats around them and do not leave room for other people to sit by them. I never think about the reasons why they might be doing this.I'm going to try to be more sensitive about this from now on. This was a good lesson.

This was an article in a 1954 edition of Popular Mechanics.




I'm sad, because my home computer doesn't have a steering wheel like this. sniff...

It had to happen. Take the hours hubby has been putting in at work, add to that his horrible sleep habits of late and what do you get? Sick hubby.

I got a call around 11 a.m. that he was coming home because he wasn't feeling well. I love it that he calls me when he's unexpectedly on the way home. It gives me a chance to hide most of the boyfriends in the closet, and scoot the rest of them out the door.

I telecommute Monday, Wednesday and Friday every week. I have a rhythm. That's the nice thing about telecommuting. You don't have co-workers constantly interrupting your rhythm. Of course, there are the phone calls, but you can still plug away on whatever you were doing because the person on the other end has no idea that you're basically ignoring them. In person, the dull look in my eyes is a dead give-away.

So, back to hubby. He immediately changed into his sweats and sweatshirt (frankly a look that I completely adore on him), and decides to conduct an experiment. He's not sure if the reuben sandwich he had last night was the cause of his discomfort all night, so thought he'd have another one for lunch. You know, just to make sure. In goes the West Wing season 2 DVD set, and hubby settles into the couch.

I can ignore the noise, I do it all the time at night. I can even work in the dark because most of my work is done on a laptop and I deal with very little paper. No light necessary. You see, he likes to close the light blocking curtains and turn off any light in the house that might possibly dilute the night-like environment he needs for maximum movie enjoyment.

So, what was cramping my style you're wondering? The fact that I feel self-conscious about my weird lunch habits and couldn't eat my favorite; cheese melted on a plate in the microwave, topped with onions and jalapenos. I couldn't follow that up with my lovely vine-ripened tomatoes (eaten like an apple) because sometimes they're, well, slurpy. I'm still a newlywed. I can't possibly slurp in front of hubby. I've just passed the "running the water while using the bathroom" stage.

Ok, I got over that and had a normal lunch of cottage cheese. Probably a hell of a lot healthier. Hmmmph.

Then he fell asleep on the couch, so I had to be really quiet because the TV was now off. That means that I couldn't even mutter to myself and swear as I tend to do whilst working. Nor could I clean house while on conference calls. Yeah, you heard me. It's called multi-tasking. I clean my house while I'm on conference calls. Who's to know? Put the phone on mute and load the dishwasher, dust, even clean the toilet! Un-mute when you need to answer a question. As an aside, vacuuming is a little more difficult. It's hard to hear over the noise.

I can't wait until we get a bigger house and I actually have an office. Grumble... grumble...grumble...

Lucky for him that I still find everything about him to be quite adorable. In a manly way, of course.