Beocat

Grendel's Dog: A Fragment from Beocat by the Old English Epic's Unknown Author's Cat
(Modern English verse translation by the Editor's Cat)
from Henry Beard's Poetry for Cats

Brave Beocat, brood kit of Ecgthmeow,
Hearth-pet of Hrothgar, in whose high halls
He mauled without mercy many fat mice,
Night did not find napping nor snack-feasting.
The wary war-cat, whiskered paw-wielder,
Bearer of the burnished neck-belt, gold-braided collar-band,
Feller of fleas, fatal, too, to ticks,
The work of wonder-smiths, woven with witches' charms,
Sat on the throne-seat, his ears like sword-points
Upraised, sharp-tipped, listening for peril-sounds,
When he heard from the moor-hill howls of the hell-hound,
Gruesome hunger-grunts of Grendel's Great Dane,
Deadly doom-mutt, dread demon-dog.
Then boasted Beocat, noble battle-kitten,
Bane of barrow-bunnies, bold seeker of nest-booty,
"If hand of man unhasped the heavy hall-door
And freed me to frolic forth to fight the fang-bearing fiend,
I would lay the whelpling low with lethal claw-blows;
Fur would fly and the foe would taste death-food.
But resounding snooze-noise, stern slumber-thunder,
Nose-music of men snoring mead-hammered in the wine-hall,
Fills me with sorrow-feeling for Fate does not see fit
To send some fingered folk to lift the firm-fastened latch
That I might go grapple with the grim ghoul-pooch."
Thus spake the mouse-shredder, hunter of hall-pests,
Short-haired Hrodent-slayer, greatest of the pussy-Geats.

I'm not a doctor

Today I spent an hour trying to convince a client that his doctor did not give him Congestive Heart Failure when his blood pressure medication was changed.

He kept saying, "Even doctors make mistakes."

True. But he just couldn't understand that the blood pressure pills only manage CHF, not cure it.

Social Workers Rock

This is why social workers rock.

Pi day

Happy Pi Day!

Why I'm Still Angry at My Old Job

Ok, this is convoluted. I was a case manager for the FCSP program. My senior center has a contract with PCA (hereafter referred to as the devil) to deliver this program. For five years, I served two masters, the senior center and the devil.

Just before Christmas, we got wind of a rumor that the Devil was pulling the contract. It wasn't official, but a muckety-muck told my boss to "expect a letter". Just before Christmas. Assholes.

The letter said the Devil would closing FCSP at the various community sites and pulling the program to their headquarters in Center City. I would be given the opportunity to apply for my job.

And this is the first thing that really pissed me off. I would be "given the opportunity" to apply for my own job that's I'd done for five years.

The second thing that really made me furious was that last October another senior center with the program was closing. We were told by the Director that senior was only being closed because the senior center had fiscal problems. They had no intention of closing the other sites.

They lied to us.

They new last October and lied.

So would you want to work for these lying jerks? It's slightly more money, but I'd have to pay for parking and I'd lose all my rocking vacation time. Moreover, I would be a new employee on probation. I really like my job and my clients, but enough to work for the devil?

My senior center offered me another position, if I wanted to stay. I took their offer.

In January, my supervisor informed the Devil that neither myself nor Jule would transfer. We'd rather wash dishes at the center than work them, but she probably phrased it better.

January 31, I'm still working in the old program, trying to tie things up. I get a call from the Director. They've already hired someone for my position and she starts on Monday. Could I send over 25 cases for her?

And this is the thing that made me loose it.

They have no regard for my experience. They replaced me with someone who just graduated college and has no work experience. Our program is difficult and there's a high turnover rate because it's hard to find the right person for the job. I've been doing this for 5 years, so has Jule. We rock. We've been told by auditors that we are the best in the program, not to toot my own horn. It's so comforting to know that all my experience and quality work is so replaceable.

The worst was boxing up my cases. I kept thinking about this new chick and how it's was not right that she was getting all my cases and my hard work. I told my boss that I was justing "freaking resentful."

And I am resentful. For five years, I've worked in this program and the Devil has treated my badly the entire time, that's why it's the devil. I've had second hand computers, shoddy server connections, not been informed of policy changes until after they've happened, been ignored by technical support, and treated overall as an inferior. And yet, I've excelled. I've taken their poor resources and archaic computer programs and spun straw into gold. Fuck them.

But I still miss my old job and that's killing me.

Poe

I know it's crazy, but next year is Poe's 200th birthday and I'd like to go to Baltimore to see the Poe Toaster in action. Sure, I'd have to be in a Baltimore cemetery early in the morning in January, but how awesome would it be? Pretty awesome.

Skunked

This morning, around 6 a.m., Andy and I woke to a horrible, acrid smell.

I can't really describe the smell. It was as if a skunk was burning in the furnace. Nasty. Very pungent.

Andy's first thought was that something caught fire and plastic was burning. Burning plastic, that's a good description.

We unplugged all the thingies with plugs. Nothing was melted. Nothing was warm. But the smell did seem to be concentrated in the bedroom.

I theorized that a skunk was on the roof and something scared the pocheese out of him. Andy said there were no skunks in the middle of winter. But, I countered, it's been unseasonably warm. Despite Jenny's lament that she was freezing, it's been warm for this time of year and some tulips are starting to bloom.

I got use to the funky smell. We opened windows to air out the house. The cats are on the back porch having the time of their kitty lives, smelling stuff. I began not to notice the stench until we came back from grocery shopping. The house reeks. I know I reek because the car even smells funky, and that's just from the funk on my clothes, from inside the house the skunk sprayed.

I hate skunks now. I've converted.