MEG woke up about 0200 this morning and won’t go back to sleep – yet. I’m hoping to bore her to tears with internet surking so she will go back to sleep, so I can go back to sleep.

While looking around this morning, my friend prying1 (alternate site: prying1books.com) forwarded this to me:

From the MANITOBA HERALD, Canada

The flood of American liberals sneaking across the border into Canada has intensified in the past week, sparking calls for increased patrols to stop the illegal immigration.

The possibility of a McCain/Palin election is prompting the exodus among left-leaning citizens who fear they’ll soon be required to hunt, pray, and agree with Bill O’Reilly.

Canadian border farmers say it’s not uncommon to see dozens of sociology professors, animal rights activists and Unitarians crossing their fields at night. ‘I went out to milk the cows the other day, and there was a Hollywood producer huddled in the barn,’ said Manitoba farmer Red Greenfield, whose acreage borders North Dakota. ‘The producer was cold, exhausted and hungry. He asked me if I could spare a latte and some free-range chicken.’

In an effort to stop the illegal aliens, Greenfield erected higher fences, but the liberals scaled them. So he tried installing speakers that blare Rush Limbaugh across the fields. ‘Not real effective,’ he said. ‘The liberals still got through, and Rush annoyed the cows so much they wouldn’t give milk.’

Officials are particularly concerned about smugglers who meet liberals near the Canadian border, pack them into Volvo station wagons, drive them across the border and leave them to fend for themselves. ‘A lot of these people are not prepared for rugged conditions,’ an Ontario border patrolman said. ‘I found one carload without a drop of drinking water. They did have a nice little Napa Valley Cabernet, though.’

When liberals are caught, they’re sent back across the border, often wailing loudly that they fear retribution from conservatives. Rumors have been circulating about the McCain administration establishing re-education camps in which liberals will be forced to shoot wolves from airplanes, deny evolution, and act out drills preparing them for the Rapture.

In recent days, liberals have turned to sometimes-ingenious ways of crossing the border. Some have taken to posing as senior citizens on bus trips to buy cheap Canadian prescription drugs. After catching a half-dozen young vegans disguised in powdered wigs, Canadian immigration authorities began stopping buses and quizzing the supposed senior-citizen passengers on Perry Como and Rosemary Clooney hits to prove they were alive in the ’50s. ‘If they can’t identify the accordion player on The Lawrence Welk Show, we get suspicious about their age,’ an official said.

Canadian citizens have complained that the illegal immigrants are creating an organic-broccoli shortage and renting all the good Susan Sarandon movies. ‘I feel sorry for American liberals, but the Canadian economy just can’t support them,’ an Ottawa resident said. ‘How many art history and English majors does one country need?’

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224 – disgusting!

I know, it’s Tuesday. I had a weird Monday, is all.

And, being the lucky person you are, I’ve selected YOU to be the one who gets to hear about it!

It all started about the normal time – no, wait. Monday started Sunday afternoon, when, for no apparent reason, the left front tooth in TMBWitW‘s mouth chipped. Not a big chip, but enough that there was a rough little line at the bottom of the tooth. TMBWitW, being the tooth-conscious gal that she is, was very concerned.

Bright and early Monday morning, the dentist was called. Actually, the receptionist was called. She could be worked in at 1015, and it would be the other dentist, not her regular one. Meanwhile, a certain blogger husband of hers woke up with a dull pounding in the back of his head. TMBWitW started working on the computer, getting done what she could without going into the office. For whatever reason, MEG slept until 0900. Blogging husband, not sure what was going on with his head, decided to take two Tylenol and sit quietly so as not to bother his head. He thought to himself, “This is why I quit drinking; why go through all that expense and sloppiness when I can get the hangover headache without even trying?” He took two Tylenol and sat at the breakfast table, reading the morning paper.

Once MEG woke up and had breakfast, she was quickly dressed and the entire crew was off. Not sure if numbing methods were going to be used, TMBWitW requested a back-up driver, just in case. Not sure if he would live until the end of the driveway, the husband took two Tylenol and said “Sure!” with a cheery grin. Relieved that TMBWitW wanted to drive, the husband sat in the back seat and gave the appearance of entertaining MEG while secretly wishing he had taken the entire bottle of Tylenol with him, as a snack for the road.

At the dentist’s office, it was determined that it would not take very long at all; in fact, by the time MEG had walked her father from one end of the compound to the other, climbed and descended two sets of stairs, discovered a pigeon nesting on a landing, played in three of the eight fountains in the courtyard and determined that there was a fountain under repair, TMBWitW was finished and waiting for the return of her support crew.

No numbing methods were used, as it was only an edge fill.

It was decided that lunch was in order, so TMBWitW headed home. (quick side note here – TMBWitW, pre-baby, had an unerring sense of direction. now that she is a mommy, she needs maps and directions to anywhere that is not work or a mall. the trips to and from the dentist office were amusing – or at least, I would assume they were amusing – due to the fact that the person giving directions had a forty five piece drum corps playing in his head during the entire ride and directions were monosyllabic at best.) Once there, a quick lunch was generated, TMBWitW went back in the office, and once MEG had finished her repast she was laid down for a nap. At that time the husband decided it would be a good time for a nap, also, so he took two Tylenol and laid, gently, on his side with a pillow covering one ear and blocking most of the light.

There was a huge ruckus, and the husband was jolted awake almost as soon as he had laid his head down, or about two hours later. TMBWitW needed to go to her chiropractor visit, and would be taking MEG with her, would the husband like to take a migraine pill? No, no – too late for that. He’ll settle for a couple of Tylenol and maybe a bit more of a nap before the HOA board meeting that evening.

Pizza was ordered for dinner, and consumed. The husband operated in a slight fog, and decided to forego the meeting; what use would he be if all he could say was “Turn off the light, it’s too bright”?

Husband decided that in order to sleep off the nagging wisps of migraine still clinging to his skull fragments, he would need to take a small sleeping pill. Sleeping aid acquired, he promptly lay down at 2030 and discovered that his mind was now wide awake and not nearly as pained as it was earlier in the day. Instead of tossing and turning fitfully, he decided to do something constructive that would make his mind shut down so he could sleep.

Ninety three expert games of Minesweeper later, he decided that wasn’t going to work, and maybe laying down would be OK after all. Going back to bed at 0245, he promptly fell asleep. At 0635, he awoke with a start, thinking that TMBWitW had left without a word, taking the baby and the dogs, leaving him to fend for himself with the cats.

I hate migraines that sneak up on you. I hate drugs that affect you in ways they aren’t designed to. I love Tylenol because my body know what to do with it. I need someone to research me and figure out why my threshold for pain and drugs is so weird.

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It seems like it was just yesterday when I was happily drawing kitchens.

I sure miss those days. Weekends off, daytime working hours, seven to eight hours of sleep – at night! in a row! – and now, I just seem to be losing track of the days. Sleep deprivation has gotten the better of me. My accountant tells me that I am losing money in this contract, with having to pay a helper seven days a week. My internal clock tells me I’ve just lost track of the better part of a week. My mind and my body are on the verge of mutiny (on the “plus” side, I’m down to 196) and I am physically unable to keep up this pace. A typical day:

0000 hours: I’m driving towards the dock, to pick up the papers. I may stop for gasoline, if the tank is thirsty. It’s usually thirsty.
Between 0100 and 0200 hours: papers loaded, headed to the first stop.
Between 0430 and 0600 hours: route finished, heading home.
0600 to 0800 hours: paperwork, updating the online database, filing, sorting, getting things ready for tonight’s run.
0800 to whenever little Miss wakes up: nap. Feed little Miss, help her learn how to play, read to her, wait for her gorgeous blue eyes to get heavy and fall down. Nap for about an hour, while little Miss also naps. Repeat as needed, per little Miss’s schedule. Shower when possible. Shaving is an option, but only until TMBWitW gets home.
1700 hours: TMBWitW is home! Family time, dinner, conversation, TMBWitW catches up with little Miss.
2100 hours: print out new run sheet for that night.
2115 hours: lay head down for another nap.
2345 hours: get up, try to jangle the body into awareness, slam some caffeine. Cold water works well, also. Make sure everything is in order for the run tonight.

Yes, this is seven days a week. Sundays are a bit different; I need to pick up my helper and get the trailer, so my evening nap is cut short by thirty minutes or so.

Your mind plays tricks on you after not getting enough sleep. It’s hard enough for me to type, since I am slightly dyslexic, and I have to concentrate on every word to make sure it’s spelled correctly so these entries are legible. Bad spelling makes my reading slow way down, because then I’m not sure if what I’m reading is spelled correctly or not. When I have enough sleep, this process is almost seamless and I can operate at the same speed as most of the world. When I haven’t had enough sleep, though, it’s way tougher than normal.

If the schedule were consistent (notice the variable at the dock – you can’t count on when the papers are going to come off the line, so you can’t really sneak a nap while at the dock), or if there were days off for recovery built in, I think it wouldn’t be so bad. But, here I am, with a sleep schedule so out of whack with what God designed, that my whole being is disrupted.

Which brings me to this point: I won’t be doing this much longer. I have caught myself taking naps at red lights. Not a problem when I’m the only one on the road, but sometimes it’s during the day. Or during rush hour. Phoenix area drivers are notoriously impatient, so don’t even delay them getting to their oh-so-important destinations. I’m getting pretty good at identifying vehicle make and model by the sound of the horn… Anyway, July 29 will be my last day as a contractor. I am so looking forward to maybe getting some sleep after that…

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, Wear Red on Fridays, support Warriors for Innocence, and write in Cary Cartter for President in 2008!

Tag: Write in Cary Cartter for President in 2008

As regular readers of this irregular blog may know, I recently started a new career path. I am an independent contractor, delivering bulk volumes of newspapers to retail outlets and also to news racks. This takes place between 2300 and 0600 hours, at least in theory.

The main publication is a statewide newspaper, with sections specifically printed for the different towns and cities in Arizona. The plant I pick up the bundles from also loads out to Yuma, Flagstaff, Tucson, and other areas.

Within the Phoenix metropolitan area, there are many zip codes. Each zip code, because of the density of the population here, is basically a retail route. The routes are grouped in zones. The zones that are further out from the loading dock are loaded first. My two routes (they used to be one, then they got split, then they got recombined, now they are split again – it’s complicated) are about five miles from the dock, each route is in a different zone, so I have two load schedules to watch and I am usually one of the last ones to load. Monday and Tuesday mornings are first come first served, so I get in line early so I can get home early.

The two routes take me about five hours to run. One of them is a two hour route, the other is two and a half hours. If I leave the dock no later than 0100 hours, then (this is where theory is proved wrong night after night) I can complete both routes by 0600. Otherwise, I need someone to run the shorter route in order to have both completed on time. Mondays and Tuesdays I can run the route myself; the rest of the week I’ve been finishing between 0700 and 0730 hours due to the late load times.

I pull a 4×8 utility trailer with my Infinity QX4. The trailer is rated at one ton. I push that limit every day.

Things I have learned this week:
1. Certain people think it’s a crime to pull a utility trailer with a “luxury” SUV. I keep telling them that it’s just a fancy Pathfinder.
2. I can get two route runs out of a tank of gas. Gas prices have been climbing all week. Ouch.
3. Before 0600 hours, or sunrise, whichever occurs first, certain traffic rules do not apply.
4. Like full stops.
5. And right on red after a full stop.
6. And Stop signs, No Left Turn signs, and those pesky “Speed Limit” signs.
7. And what exactly does “Exit Only” mean, when the drop box is right there?
8. Speed rules.
9. There is a difference between “speed” meaning velocity of travel and “speed” meaning efficiency of movement. Guess which one matters most when you have two hours to complete three hours of work?
10. Red lights are at least five times longer at 0230 than they are at 0800, and green lights are diametrically shorter.
11. Explaining the type of vehicle you have to the new lady guard working a graveyard shift since I’m retired and really haven’t had anything to do since my dear husband departed and just sitting around the house will kill you faster than anything especially of you don’t have family close by because my husband, God rest his soul, insisted that retiring to Arizona was a wonderful idea, since the weather was always pleasant and we both enjoyed golf so much and there are so many courses here to choose from; what kind of truck is that? An Infinity? I’ve never heard of that before my husband used to drive over the road in a Mack, have you ever heard of those and he would take me along sometimes and we would travel the country I would have to take vacation time to do that since my job at the county courthouse was pretty strict about taking time off on a regular basis to avoid burnout you know that will kill you faster than anything if you don’t take some time off to relax once in a while and what model is it? A QX4? I’ve never heard of that either but you know what it looks just like the Pathfinder our oldest grandson just bought, used of course, no sense spending that much money on something that won’t be worth half as much as soon as you drive it off the lot you know what I mean? it seems they entered the wrong information on your entry sheet is your license number ______? Yes, you see, they have it down as something else entirely here I swear it seems like no one takes pride in what they do any more. My husband was very proud of the fact that he never once had an accident in his Mack, not even a fender bender takes forever.

Number six probably surprises a lot of you, especially considering how adamant I am about speed limits during commutes and driving long distances. OK, just commuting time. When your stops are clustered about a mile apart, it takes f o r e v e r to get to the next one. Ten over takes some of the anxiety out of whether or not you’ll ever get there.

Things I have known, but have been refreshed this week:
1. Trailers pull easier with a little more weight in front of the axle.
2. Unloading a trailer unevenly is worse than loading it wrong in the first place – loading shows the problems when you pull away from the dock, unloading unevenly increases problems exponentially over time.
3. Backing a trailer with a shorter hitch-to-axle length than the tow vehicle’s wheelbase is touchy – one wrong move and the trailer gets crossed up very quickly.
4. Knives are sharp. Especially twine knives, which are worn like a ring on your cutting hand, and are handy to have when stocking store shelves. However, the non-cutting index finger needs to stay out of the way.
5. Sleep deprivation can produce auditory and visual hallucinations.
6. Policemen have NO sense of humor at 0430.
7. Getting adjusted to a night shift schedule makes sleeping interesting – the sleep you do get never lasts long enough.

Well, that about sums up why I haven’t written in so long. What’s up with you all?

Thank you for stopping by, God bless you all, Wear Red on Fridays, and write in Cary Cartter for President in 2008!

Tag: Write in Cary Cartter for President in 2008

The off-shoot of not getting enough sleep is, of course, the dragging feeling that you experience about two hours into your work day.

(I am writing this at work, on break; I will e-mail it to myself and then post it tonight. Or tomorrow morning, if I get up early enough. Hah! That was a joke, son, you’re supposed to laugh right there…)

Even the Nectar of the Gods, the Elixir of Youth, good old C*ca C*ola, can’t seem to perk me up right now. Maybe I should go out in the shop and use the table saw without a guard – that usually gets the blood pumping pretty quick. At least, it gets the brain juices flowing, which is what I really need, since my job is mostly staring at a computer screen and printing reams of paper for the shop.

I’m kidding – I wouldn’t run a saw without a guard!

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