Everlasting stream

After this crack-brained week, I’m not quite sure how to view Friday. So, two things to brighten the weekend:

The New York Attorney General has filed a lawsuit against the Kleptocrat’s bigly bogus foundation for a whole spectrum of fraud, surprising absolutely no one with three synapses firing in sequence. She has also sent referrals to the Federal Elections Commission and the IRS, basically inviting them to start digging for election and tax violations. 

Anent this: let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everlasting stream.

Second: it’s apparently chipmunk season—I’ve seen them in my backyard, in the ‘hood and on my walks. They are such cute little buggers; you cannot watch them without smiling.

Peace out.

Tick-tock

So, this happened. Again.

I reported in January the sudden, ah, pivot in my employment status. And when last I updated you three months ago, it looked as though at least someone saw a future for me with my current employer. I mean, clear communication does not seem to be a cultural strength in this outfit, but I had understood that there would be use for me once the business plan is done this month.

With that thought in mind, I’ve been beavering away on the plan (a process that includes a not inconsiderable element of cat herding to get a straight—or even only somewhat wavy—story around what, exactly, this program is going to do). I’d got signoff from my manager to attend the Grace Hopper Celebration in September. (I went last year as part of my work managing innovations.) In fact, I got literal signoff on my expense for registering for the conference at a meeting with her on Monday, where I presented the mother-of-all-financial-models. Everything seemed fine.

Then, Tuesday evening, an email appeared in my queue from the woman in HR responsible for managing benefits—the one who balances being out of the office more often than in with seemingly being unable to deliver on your benefits choices. (It took repeated emails and visits to her office from June to November last year before the money being taken out of my paycheck for retirement got into the right accounts.)

(Look: my Outlook folder for correspondence with HR is labeled Clown Car. ‘Nuff said.)

Here’s the text of that email: “I was made aware that you may be leaving at the end of the month due to funding for your position. Do you have any questions regarding your benefits?”

Why, yes—yes, I do have questions.

So I forwarded the email to my manager, basically asking, WTF? The response I got was not entirely reassuring. The company funds covering my salary do end on the 30^th, but she’s scrambling to cobble together monies from various sources to cover me until October, when some big grants are expected to come in. “It would not make sense to stop this work now when we are getting traction and funder interest.” And she said we could talk in person yesterday “if you like.”

Well, yes; yes, I would. I mean—WTF?

In person, she started off by saying, “Your issue is a non-issue.” Well, no, it’s not; not to me. But the gist of it is that she recognizes that what I bring to the table does not otherwise exist in her organization, and it’s a necessary skillset. Great. (She also was pissed off at HR for jumping the gun in their size 11 Doc Martens. “They’re slow on everything except what they should be slow at.”)

But I do not like the notion of continually scrambling around to find funds to pay my salary, and my travel expenses and my bloody benefits. It means I’m working under a sword of Damocles, and that does not bring out my best work. So I have to up my job search game. Again.

(More and more I feel like Sergeant Murtaugh: I am too old for this shit.)

I also don’t like that she doesn’t have enough money on hand from existing grants to get me through to October, and needs to ask the CEO, through his boy-wonder chief-of-staff, for half the dosh. The only thing good about this is that I don’t have to be present at that particular discussion.

Oh—and when I replied to the benefits chick yesterday to advise her to deal with my manager, I got an automated out-of-office reply.

Because of course.

Hiding the bodies

Here’s the thing about English sparrows: as much as I decried their predations (before the grackles arrived), if you’ve ever got an unsuccessful baking project, they’re always happy to police the area for you.

Example: some time back I was making scones for a friend and I forgot the salt, so they came out more like hockey pucks than cream biscuits. I was going to dump them, but then thought, “Maybe the birds would fancy them?”

So I put them out, and, hey-presto, the sparrows were all over them like a rash. Viz:

 I was grateful for the laughs and the disposal service.

Plurality

You know, given all the mishegoss flying around on Air Force One, I think I’m just going to leave this here for you.

We do need all the laugh’s we can get.

Gratitude Monday: girlz in the 'hood

I’ve been trying to up my exercise game, mostly by walking—easing myself into it, as it were. I shared my adventure in Great Falls National Park last week; this time around, it’s the People’s Republic.

Let me preface this by noting that this town has the most bizarre thing going WRT sidewalks. I don’t know whether the government intends to discourage people from walking, or you’re supposed to walk along the paths that meander around instead of along the roads, or whether they’re just too cheap to put sidewalks along streets. But I’ve noticed for years that finding sidewalks is a complete crap shoot.

For example: you’ll emerge from your cluster to discover a sidewalk on the port side of the street. For maybe a tenth of a mile. Then it stops and there’s a sidewalk on the starboard side for half a mile. Then—for no discernable reason—that stops, and there’s nothing at all, and nowhere to walk but in the street. 

(Note pedestrian walking in the street because no sidewalk.)

Given the speeds at which the SUVs fly around the People's Republic in general and on this road in particular, this is not for the faint-at-heart.

As for the non-street paths—if you don’t already know where you’re going and how the trails map, you’re pretty much stuffed.

However—as I said, I need to start somewhere, so I just tied on my trainers, grabbed my camera and set out. Mostly, the only thing I care about is avoiding the golf course; I prefer neighborhoods and woods.

So, a couple of interesting sights. One family set out this bowl of water so neighborhood dogs could have a slurp while out walking their humans. That was nice.

And I don’t know the origin of this very well-tended bench (complete with umbrella):

But here’s the view that the peering dude (and anyone sitting on the bench) sees:

Further down the street, someone's got a gorgeous crop of oregano going. I'm so jealous:

It’s going to be more challenging to go on walks as we push into summer here in the environs of the District They Call Columbia—so far it’s been extremely mild, but that can’t last. Still—it’s always nice to have variety in any exercise regimen, and I’m grateful for it.