Ever since Kris was laid off, I've been trying very hard not to spend money. Mostly not to spend money on superfluous things. Things like a chest freezer to store extra boxes of Girl Scout cookies and the chocolate chip cookies I made last week and the extra slice of the Great Wall of Chocolate from P.F. Changs that I couldn't finish. Or maybe the electrolysis to remove those annoying little hairs that are growing from places they're really not supposed to be growing. You know, the important things. Screw food, water and shelter, who needs that?

Unfortunately, consumer habits die hard, and I've really enjoyed using my new Sidekick. This thing cracks me up! When I showed Heather, hey look, I can log into IM from this thing, isn't that neat, she replied, "Great! Now you can always be connected." When I answered, "I know! Isn't that awesome?" her response was, "You know, that's not a good thing for most people."

Yeah, well, me and my toys. Certainly wasn't always that way.

When Kris and I first started dating, he ordered DSL for his Intarweb connection. I couldn't understand why he needed this faster, always on connection.

Until I used it.

For our first Christmas, Kris bought each of us cell phones. When I opened my box, my response was something like, "Wow! Thanks! Cell phones? Who needs a cell phone?"

Ah, but he was just setting the stage.

I recall thinking Bharat was way an early adopter with his Tivo (oooo!) and his tiny cellphones. Oddly, people think of me that way now.

People are crazy.

Besides, I'm trying not to spend money at this point.

Try as I might, I'm not having much luck at it.

Our refridgerator died last week. Mike saved us the $500 repair by offering us the use of his old one (yay, Mike!). Then, the DSL died, resulting in potentially another couple hundred dollars worth of repairs. Worlds tickets (admittedly a vacation we're choosing to go on, and not one that's absolutely required) are coming up, as well as housing and such. A favorite picture fell shattering the glass, requiring another $40 framing job.

Mike said, when it rains, it pours. He's right. I just wish our clients would pay us, and make this downpour of expenses a little easier to take.

After fighting with the DSL for a couple hours, and spending another half hour on the phone with the DSL company (most of which I spent telling them, this isn't going to help - shock, I was right), I drove up to Bay Leaf Lodge to help Mark and Megan around the house.

The interesting thing about these Toil of Tears is that, as the house owner and sponsor of this work, you have to describe as best you can what you want done and how you would do the task, then let go. Let go, and hope the person doing the work will do it as well as you would, that they care as much as you do.

It's hard. I'm not very good at it. At the Worlds Fundraising at Krikitt Wol, I cringed through most of the day, and, as Doyle can attest, micromanaged much too much.

Mark does a much better job (or, at least, projects doing a better job) of letting go, and let us do our assigned tasks.

I was caulking his windows when I had to stop. I was amazed at how much more difficult caulking windows is, compared to caulking trim in a bathroom. I managed to do well in the bathroom after all of 10 feet. I never managed to do well on his windows, trying freeform, with tape, with adjusted tape, using too much caulk with wiping off, and using too little caulk with backfill. Nothing seemed to help: I sucked at it the whole time.

I managed to finish two windows and was working on the third, having forgotten to do the door, when I realized the end of the caulk looked very sparkly, shiny, and, aw crap, iridescent. One look to the horizon and I realized I had 20 minutes before I went blind. Again.

Megan handed me four Advil, the latest in the tests of which OTC drugs I can take to ward off the worst of this migraine that's about to hit me over the head with a sixteen pound sledgehammer. Or was it the twenty pounder? I forget.

I read recently (in the grand scheme of things), that Tylenol (yeah, yeah, acetaminophen) actually has no affect on suppressing migraine pain, because of the pain relief process. Essentially, a migraine headache is so bad because it's caused by the sudden dialation of severely constricted blood vessels. The rush of blood (hence, increased blood pressure) to the head causes the pounding that is felt with each heartbeat.

Ignoring the fact that the body is ridiculously good at balancing itself, and that pressure should release immediately. It doesn't.

Advil (yeah, yeah, ibuprofin) is an anti-inflammatory. The thought is that this property will reduce the blood pressure in the whole body, causing less severe headaches.

For me, however, it's less the severe headache and more the blindness, numbness and nausea that sucks. Hate it.

The Advil helped, because my vision cleared up in about thirty minutes and I was semi-functional the rest of the day.

Heather came over with dinner in the early evening, and we spent four hours watching the first three discs of Veronica Mars, Season One. I had most of the day planned with various house tasks, mostly clean up work, and managed to get none of it done today.

There are times when life decides something else is more important than that to-do list. Sometimes it just likes to tell you it's time to stop stressing about everything and just let go.

And now, he's dead..

The worst part? His death was a senseless one.

I'm curious what the compulsion is for most people to tell the truth to a complete stranger when asked a question. I suspect only the most guarded person will avoid the truth with initial questions, yet answering the truth, even when it potentially does harm, is the default.

Today, Kris and I went to the nearest-I-could-remember T-Mobile store to purchase a new phone for him. He's been without a working phone since March, and we were tired of paying $30 a month for no phone. Each time we went into the Cingular store, they said they couldn't fix hist broken phone, how about you buy a new one? Oh, and to activate that spiffy new phone to replace the one that broke less than a year into your contract? That'll be another year contract please. With the crappy customer service, horrendous prices (even with the big Oracle discount) and bad connections, staying around another year was like offering to gouge our eyes out on a daily basis.

No, thanks.

Kris remembered to take the last Cingular bill with him to the store, so that we could switch carriers without getting a new number, but I was unable to find my last Sprint bill. Apparently, the mobile phone carriers need your account number to transfer a phone number. Oh.

Now, I have been with Sprint for six years, ever since I started working at Sinia and they offered to pay for my phone (but it had to be a new, WAP phone). I regret to this day accepting that new phone, because it meant I no longer had Kris' phone number + 1, which was really cool. We were connected not only here, but in the phone's spirtual sense. Ooooooo! Aaaaaah.

But, no. Sprint. Sinia. New phone.

So, I called Sprint's customer help line, and begin the infinite-hold dance. After twelve minutes and thirty seven seconds on hold, the customer service rep answered, and asked how can she help me.

"I'd like my account number."

"You want your account number?"

"Yes."

"Why do you want your account number? Is it to access your account online?"

"No, it's to switch companies."

"You want to switch companies? I'll have to transfer you to another department to access your account number."

Huh? You just asked me for my social security number, why do you need to transfer me to give me the account number right on your screen? I think.

"You have to transfer me to another department for my account number?" I ask, incredulously. "You're saying you don't have my account number right in front of you?"

"I'll need to transfer you to another department," she answered, deflecting my question.

"Is this the We-won't-give-you-your-account-number until-we-have-a-chance-to-convince-you not-to-go department, by any chance?"

"Yes," she answered in a small voice.

"And I can't get my account number without talking to them?"

"No."

"Okay, transfer me."

While I was put on hold for another five minutes, I commented to Kris, "Next time, I'm just lying and telling them I'm going to use the account number to log in online."

The next rep wasn't as nice as the first, and he started the conversation by first butchering my last name, then accusing, "You want your account number so you can change carriers?"

"I would like my account number, yes."

"But, you want it to change carriers, right?"

"I find that irrelevant. I would like my account number, please."

He gave me my account number grudgingly, and I was able to give it to the T-Mobile guy to switch my account away. We'll see how this goes. My bet is that my second phone number, the one attached to Kris' number, will be cancelled when his number is transferred away from Cingular.

Because that is the most retarded thing I could think for a mobile phone company to do.

And that's our luck with phones.

When we tell the truth.

Telling the first representative, sure, yeah, that I need it to access my account online wouldn't have been the truth, yet I doubt it would have caused problems. I told the truth to the second representative, but wished I didn't need to even consider lying in the first place.

When was the last time you had to speak in front of a group? How did you feel?

There's an episode of Star Trek The Next Generation that opens with Enterprise heading into some sort of bizarre electrical storm that sends a bold of energy into the bridge, striking Jean Luc Picard in the chest. The energy disrupts Picard's artificial heart ("What? He has an artificial heart? How the heck did that happen? Oh? Wait for it? All will be revealed in the next 54 minutes? Okay, fine, I'll keep watching."), and he starts to die.

As he lay there dying, Q (the annoying all-powerful, but not quite, omniscient) shows up and hovers over Picard. He knows about the heart; he knows why Picard has it. He offers Picard the opportunity to redo the moment in his life that lead to his having the heart in the first place. He knows of the decisioin Picard made years ago, the moment that regretted to this dying moment, the choice he would have made differently if he'd had the chance.

And who wouldn't jump at that chance to undo that one such moment that has caused a lifetime of regret, to fix the source of all that is wrong, to live a moment longer knowing you finally made the right choice?

Picard accepted the offer, and found himself moments before a barroom fight which will end with a Klingon's weapon in his chest, moments before he stood up to the bully in the room and nearly died for the effort, an artificial heart a constant reminder of the choice he had made.

No gift from Q is ever truly a gift, as Picard remembers as he flashes through moments of his life up to the according-to-the-viewer present moment. Each moment that we see begins as an event where Picard is the Picard we know: he's strong, self-assured, confident and leading the charge. As we watch, in the pivotal moment, he crumbles. He doubts. He second guesses himself as he had done in the bar, as he had done when he chose the second time not to fight.

He is unable to follow through, and becomes less of a man. He never reaches his potential. He thinks, all I need is a chance, my chance, to prove to everyone he is the leader he knows he can be, the leader the viewer knows he was. Chance after chance he tries and fails. He doesn't follow through and no one believes him, believes in him.

The one moment he felt was his biggest regret, the moment he believed was his worst choice was as he believed: the moment that defined him. But it defined him in the way of his fullest potential, and not the smaller person he could be.

I recall very few episodes of STNG. I recall that one because it reminds me of how I feel every time I stand up in front of a crowd. The feeling of this-is-not-quite-as-it-should-be hits me as I get ready to stand. The worst moment is when the speaking is impromptu and I've had no time to prepare. Can I think of something witty? Can I be clever and dynamic and smart and funny? Crap! Where are my jokes?!

My briefest of moments of such was in June, as BarCampSF started. Messina asked every attendant to stand up, give their name and a 10 second explaination of what they hope to get out of the weekend. Rather than something witty like, "I'm just hear to make sure you have snack food," something tragically nondescript and stupid came out. Something like, "I'm here to learn new AJAX tricks and techniques."

Interestingly enough, my heart didn't pound, I didn't sweat profusely, my blood pressure didn't rise. Standing in front of 200 techies doesn't bother me. Not having something to say does. Not having time to prepare (who prepares for a 10 second introduction to people who, chances are, you won't interact with much after this weekend?) bothers me.

It bothers me because I know I can do better speaking in front of people, having done so with my presentations and lessons I've done over the last years. I know I can be that happy, confident, self-assured person at the front of the room, talking to everyone. I know I can be the Picard who made the right decision the first time, instead of the second time when he second-guessed himself.

I know, because I have been, am, and will continue to be that person.