So I had black widow build its web in my garage. She was by far the largest I’d ever seen, though I know that they CAN get bigger. Body was roughly the size of a nickel, and she was easily the size of a half dollar, overall. Anyway, she set up camp in a corner that sees no human traffic, so I let her be.
I let her go about a week before I finally mentioned to my roommate that she was there… he just happened to wander through that area, so I figured to give him a heads up. He. flipped. out.
It was annoyingly hilarious. He kept going on and on about how I needed to kill it. I pointed out that it was nailing roaches as they came into the garage… she was welcome. “Thousands of people die from them!” Whatever, dude. I finally told him that if he was that uncomfortable, he could move her. A short while later, he came in making the slashing motion across his throat.
Next morning, he kept talking about how we had avoided death… especially me. When I park in the garage, if my windows are down, I leave them down. This, I found out, is how I could have died.
My roomie explained that black widows climb into cars and crawl under the seats, biting the unsuspecting victims in the leg. I thought he was trying to pull my leg, but the seriousness… and near terror… on his face told me that it was no joke. It was near impossible not to laugh at him… and I’ve been chuckling ever since.
Happy Birthday to some of the best peeps with whom I’ve had the privilege to work, or blog, and/or drink!!! I’ll raise a toast to you all… and then probably another few. You know… an alcohol double tap.
The attacks of 9/11 will never be forgotten, nor will most of us forget what we were doing, where we were, or the feelings that flooded through us when we first heard the news. Our thoughts, fears, feelings, and ideals were solid, etched in stone. For some of us that hadn’t known someone murdered that day, time has a way of wearing those firm and definite edges away, dulling some of those memories. Not good.
I did not know anyone taken that day. But I heard about a special project, 2,996 Tribute*, and signed up. I drew Rahma Salie. I’ve only “known” her for a couple of weeks, but her death has affected me. Deeply.
Rahma, of Sri Lankan descent, was born to Yuseff and Haleema Salie in Japan, February, 1973. She went to an international school there, before coming here in 1992, to Wellesley College, where she majored in International Relations, and Japanese studies. She was a consultant in an IT firm, and rose to the position of Chief Operating Officer.
While attending Wellesley, Rahma met Michael Theodoridis, who was attending Boston University. They fell in love, and Michael, a Greek Orthodox Christian, converted to Islam before marrying his bride in 1998. “They were very much in love. They wouldn’t do anything without each other,” her father said. “There was never anything but a smile on their faces.” One article I read called them inseparable.
When I first saw the picture of Rahma, I couldn’t help but grin. You can see the love she’s got for her husband, but you could also look at her, and just know that she was someone that you wanted to know. Needed to know. One of her Wellesley schoolmates said in a forum, “I bet you could also hear the sound of her laugh while looking at her picture.” I could.
She was a very outgoing person, leaving a positive impression on all that she met. Vibrant, successful, hardworking, and driven. Sweet, radiant, loyal, and loving. All words that were used to describe her. I really would have liked to meet her.
On September 11, 2001, Rahma and Michael boarded American Airlines Flight 11, heading to Los Angeles for a friend’s wedding. They were not alone. Rahma was seven months pregnant with their first child.
Many of the sites providing lists provide vague info, such as: Rahma Salie was from Boston. Or, Rahma Salie, expectant mother, and consultant. It bugs me. She deserved much more.
Rahma, you will not be forgotten by me. I wish I had known you, sister.
Last fall, I finished P90X. I was pretty impressed with the results. Fitness and health were both vastly improved. Shortly afterward, I pulled a hamstring, and it screwed up my workouts. I kept active, but no real pushing of myself. Ended up gaining some weight back, and feeling out of shape. I decided to start P90X up once again, even though the hammie is STILL not right.
Different day, same cubicle. New boss, though. Really big on “process”, not so big on “getting shit done”. In the last few weeks…
I’ve been told that I need to be in the office every single day (instead of telecommuting half the week or more),
time spent in meetings has gone from around 5% of my time to roughly 20%,
a fair chunk of my remaining time has been spent training a “senior” developer on Modern Programming 101 bullshit, and
I’m constantly being asked why Project X isn’t complete.
Today, though….ahhh, today. Today was the sort of day that gives recruiters wet dreams. Today he comes by to tell me that the walls of our cubicles (yep, cube farm) are being lowered but not to worry! They’re putting noise-cancelling tiles in so we won’t be distracted by everyone else’s conversations. Uh-huh. Oh, and he’s probably going to need to swap cubes with me (my larger cubicle with a window view for his center-of-the-cube-farm one) because he needs his privacy and can’t have people looking over his shoulder.