Planting Tradition

My mom is a big plant person, therefore it was commonplace to have plants everywhere growing up. I didn't realize how important plants were to me until I went to college and lived in various drab apartments for years. The last apartment we stayed in had a great patio and backyard area to keep plenty of potted plants.

It was great.

Then I moved to California where they confiscated a number of my plants and we ended up in the desert with an asphalt backyard. It was a little depressing.

Now that we're in a house in an area that can sustain plant growth, it was imperative that we have things growing. Unfortunately, we're in a relatively new neighborhood where the soil is clay filler. Planting directly in the ground as is will result in very sad plants, so I was a little bummed when "planting time" rolled around. Planting time? Yep. It's always been tradition at home to do your planting on Good Friday to ensure a good harvest.
Lucky for me, my mother sent me this nifty little herb garden (I've always wanted an herb garden). I ripped open the package and planted the parsley, chives, and sweet basil seeds. After a week or so of germination, little delicious herbs began popping up.
These herbs were planted on Good Friday, so I know they'll be delicious when the time comes to harvest. Unfortunately, I'm not too sure I'll actually be able to use them when they are ready to harvest. They're just so adorable.

What's your condition?

Last week I introduced Mimi as a means to point out that having a "young" vet is a positive thing.

This week it's only fair to introduce Mister Delicious to point out that both of our cats are neurotic.


Mr. D and I got to know each other during the Fall of '03. He was maybe a year old and had been neglected by his initial owner, my coworker at the time. Our boss took in the little fella, got him healthy, and called him Fattie. Fortunately for me, she had a handful of pets and was looking for a forever home for "Fattie." I gladly offered to be his Momma and we haven't been parted since.

Mr. Delicious got his name through a combination of girly squeals exhibited by both my mother and me. I had not laid eyes on Mr. D until he was brought to me on adoption day. I instantly fell in love and excitedly drove home to show him off. As I pulled him out of his carrier I squeaked, "He's like peaches and cream! Isn't he just delicious!?" My momma simultaneously squealed "He's gorgeous! He needs a 'Mister' name!" The overlapping squawking from us both resulted in a merge of "Mister!" "Delicious!" and hence it was set in stone. Mr. Delicious was doomed to be a ladies man and have the best name ever invented. (I'm biased, of course.)

Mr. D showed his love for me on the first night he slept in my room. He rolled on his back and exposed his belly, letting me know he was comfortable. He begged for pets and scritches. And he promptly urinated beside my head on my pillow.

I knew we understood each other.

The Big D loves hair. He lays on your pillow and paws and pulls at hair. His favorite toys are dirty earplugs. He only eats out of the left side of his bowl (spin it around and the left side is magically full!). He sits on your chest and stares at your face whenever it's most inconvenient for you. While you sleep he aims his drool drops at eyes, nostrils, and lips. It's really gross and annoying, but I love him. (How could you not?!)

When we moved to California (everything changed in California), Mr. D began to pluck at his fur. I initially thought it was the asphalt dust we tracked into the apartment and tried to keep clean floors and kitties. When we moved into the house I imagined the fur plucking would stop, but it appears from time to time, mostly when he's not being fed what he wants. It's definitely not as noticeable as Mr. D's odd habit of eating weird stuff off the floor, though.

He loves circling little lint balls that appear on the floor, stopping in front of them, making sure I'm watching, and diving in for the kill. This usually results in me flailing my arms and screeching something about weird kitties and their obsessions.

I like to pretend that Mr. D has a condition known as Butthead. Having this particular conditions means the pet knows every which way to drive their caretaker up the wall. Just the other day while Mr. D was helping make the bed, he noticed a lint ball and dove on it like he'd never eaten before. It was weird. I lint-rolled the sheets.
You see, if Mr. D doesn't have the condition known as Butthead, it means he probably has a neurological condition known as Pica. I'd rather he not have a true medical condition and just be the sly fluffernutter that keeps me on my toes.

So, Mr. D, if you're reading this, please continue to eat things only when I'm watching so I can confirm that you do things purely to annoy me and not because something wasn't wired correctly.

Thank you.

An Interesting Case

This is Amelia "Mimi" Earhart. Obviously, she's a bit furrier than her namesake and not so much interested in flying as she is in catching flying things.

Mimi and I were introduced in the Fall of 2003. She was incredibly shy and had scratched off half the fur on her head due to a nerve-wracking home life full of furry bullies. She and I patiently figured each other out while I coaxed her out of the shadows to tend her wounds.

She's now a vibrant, ten pound kitty that's as dark as night with strong vocals she's not afraid to use.


Mimi's been rather healthy until we moved to California. A few months of living in the desert she began to have seizures. We were hesitant to bring her to a vet simply because we didn't know who was a decent doctor. After a few referrals, I chose a vet and went. He was a distant doctor that was knowledgeable enough, but simply told me "when she starts having more than one a month, come back to see me." No explanation. He talked around answering any questions I had and shoved me out the door. I wasn't very impressed.

Now that we've moved to the mountains and Mimi's seizures have gotten more frequent, we bit the metaphorical bullet and tested out a new clinic. This time we hit gold.

Mimi's doctor is fresh out of college and eager to learn. Although an "unexperienced" doctor may be a turn-off for some people, this particular newbie is willing to spend a long time talking to us about the case as he learns to develop doctor-client relationships.

Of course, he probably wouldn't be so attentive had Mimi just had an ear infection. He point-blank told us that she's his most interesting case and is keeping a close eye on her status. I'm quite alright with him calling every few weeks to see how Mimi's doing even if it's for his own personal gain. I also like knowing that if there's an issue, I can leave him a message and he will get back to me within a few hours to address it.


Despite his off-color humour about boring cases and advice including "never get a chihuahua, they're a lost cause," I'll happily continue to see my new kitty doctor for as long as necessary to work on getting Mimi healthy.

A typical day

During a meeting last week, I was asked what a typical day was like for me. It caught me off guard, like usual, so I tried to outline what I work on in a day. The explanation was jumbled and complex and left my audience asking more questions than answering them.

I was hired as a multimedia librarian/office services assistant for Scaled Composites, LLC. This was a new position they created, so no one really knew what to expect. When I was hired, it was explicitly said that I would be focusing more on the office services assistant side of my job title than I would the librarian portion.

Looking back, that statement was quite incorrect.

My initial tasks were to assess all assets, find a solution for organizing them, and implement that plan. Scaled's assets happen to be 28 years of collected papers, publications, drawings, photographs, and video tapes. Some items are labeled, some have been organized-but the organization system has long been forgotten, and much is waiting to be digitized and properly placed.

Aside from those main goals, I was to take over the task of video editor, book librarian, and camera check-out.

A few months into the job, I was asked to film a step in a fabrication process. From there it became nearly a daily task to monitor video cameras and cut the film down later to create a running progress video. Among the film processing and asset sorting, I was asked if I'd like to try my hand at some design work. This opportunity led to a few more small design projects, which I happily accepted, and helped flesh out a new role for myself. The requests for graphic design work and filming rolled in so much that my initial tasks of organizing the company's assets were pushed to the background. Despite not fulfilling the duties I was hired to perform, my peers and supervisors were happy with the work I was doing and encouraged me to stay on track.

It's nine months since I was hired and although several items have been accomplished, my growing list of things to do can be overwhelming. Now that a background of my job duties has been given, I'll attempt to describe a "typical" day in the office.

When I get in, I'll start working on video editing/sorting/filing, unless there is an item of immediate concern, which there usually is. An item of immediate concern tends to be either filming a flight/manufacturing process; formatting, printing, binding updated aviation checklists; labeling/sorting new images; scanning documentation for various reasons; writing/editing text for various documents; searching for new processes/hardware to catch up with documentation demands; editing/manipulating images/graphics for various projects; answering questions about various software; preparing for the next big thing.

Despite my best planning, my days are unpredictable. I can assure anyone that I will be either filming, editing, scanning, sorting, labeling, or designing at any given moment. I am responsible for Scaled's assets and am tasked with knowing where things are so I may make others' lives more efficient.

Out in the open

It's finally here showing off its new face: scaled.com !!

Please, don't come in.

I've always liked the idea of "having company over." The idea of sharing your home with someone sends warm ripples of comfort up my spine, but when the time comes to actually have company over I turn into a nervous wreck. I worry about forgetting manners or common courtesies. What are the rules for having guests over? Do I allow their cups to empty? Should I always have some nibbles prepared just-in-case? Did I properly clean the lint trap? People will see all my household flaws!

Well, I suppose those are the thoughts that would be racing through my mind if we decided to even let people in the house.

In college it was understood that your place of habitat would not be clean. College kids don't have time to clean. You have people over and they just "got it." So I never worried much about having dirty dishes in the sink, wiping up all the loose cat fur strewn around the place, or picking up various art supplies that littered the floor. It was expected.

Now I'm out of the college phase (in theory) and we're in a house. Something we can call our own and are proud to show off. Except we simply haven't settled in. It still looks like the day we moved in. . . boxes everywhere, half-heartedly sorted piles of random stuff, things searching for homes. I think we're both in shock about actually setting up a permanent place. That and the fact we have no furniture to speak of. So we're forced to say things like "We're just not ready for company" or "Sorry, you're not allowed in. Hope you don't mind freezing on our front porch!"

One day I'll be able to invite people over and not be ashamed of the mess. One day our neighbors will unexpectedly show up and we can open the door wide, welcoming them in. One day we won't be ashamed of our maze of unopened boxes and things will have places. One day we'll turn this house into a home. But for now, if you feel like popping by, don't expect a warm place to stay; we'll just send you to the nearest hotel with a bag of cookies and an awkward apology.

Mind in the gutter

When we moved out west we really just didn't know what to expect. Our first year in the Antelope Valley we were met with blistering heat and clear blue skies day after day after day. Then it rained. Then it snowed. They called it a fluke. Then we moved.

Tehachapi is known as the Land of Four Seasons. Initially I found this to be a strange thing to boast, but now realize it's a great selling point. We happily moved to the land of promise in anticipation of familiar skies.

When we moved into the house, the ground was baked and cracked as if it had never seen a drop of moisture. We thought irrigation would be the big issue when it came to landscaping. Oh, how wrong we were.

Our first bout of rain we realized just how badly we needed to work on drainage. We also realized the house did not, in fact, have any gutters. In the southeast, the only reason people do not have gutters on their homes is because they just got ripped off by a hurricane. I suppose we just figured that rainfall came so seldom to the area that having gutters was seen as an extravagant expense.

Well, after a week of rain and snow, we found ourselves practically swimming across the lawn. Obviously, this needed to be fixed. A phone call and an estimate later, we now have beautiful new gutters. Ok, ok, I know gutters don't fix a drainage problem, but it's a start. Call it a kick in the seat of our overly drenched pants.

Who knew this place came with a swimming pool!?