The Chronicles of the Angry Geologist

I just found out that my dad dropped a 15 foot long, eight inch thick tree limb on my mom.

She went inside and cooked dinner. Then on my dad's insistence, they went to the hospital.

Nothing was broken, but I think a headdesk is appropriate here, don't you?

*headdesk*

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a pet person. I am always more "myself" when I own and care for some sort of animal. That's the way I am, I've accepted that, and so have my friends.

My parents, on the other hand... well, there's a reason why I put off telling them about Roland.

Case in point: yesterday, I was walking by a yard sale, and I found a 30 gallon fish tank and stand with all the accoutrement for $10. Yes- ten dollars. The stand needed a fresh coat of paint, but I mean... that's giving the damn thing away! It's all glass, very sturdy, the filter even has a built in foamer chamber! Of course, after I got a verbal assurance from my neighbor that everything worked, I paid her the ten dollars and picked up the thing right away.

The stand is mostly repainted. There's a few little things I would like to add, but those can be done later- besides, I need some balsa wood for that (and there will be pictures, so keep your pants on). Today, I added the gravel, the water, the Java Ferns from my old betta bowl (RIP Levi- sorry I didn't catch your swimbladder problem in time), doused it with stress-zyme, and started up the filter. I'm going to let it stabilize for a few days, and maybe start adding fish on Tuesday or Wednesday.

While I'm not an advanced fishkeeper yet, I am not a novice aquarist. To some extent, I know what I'm doing, and if I ever think I'm getting myself into trouble, you can bet I will spam the fora with my issues.

And, like most things in my adult life, my parents seem to think I'm going to be incompetent at this. My bettas have lived at least three years per fish, including the ones that were sick when I got them, and I was working under adverse conditions (very limited space). I didn't tell them about the saltwater tank I had in grad school, because I knew they'd run with this again, though when they saw it, they didn't seem to knock my roommate for taking poor care of "his" fish. The last time that they know that I had a fish tank was when I was a kid- there were two goldfish in a 10 gallon tank- okay, okay, I was a stupid pet owner, but in my defense I WAS EIGHT and I think that at a quarter century I can do a LITTLE FRACKING BETTER THIS TIME.

*huff*

It's okay, though. They've always been way too overprotective of me. I just have to wait them out, and prove to them and myself that I am a responsible adult. They'll come around. Eventually. I can be patient.

Besides, a school of neon tetras are going to look great under that blue light.

I finished two reports today. I should be able to send one out tomorrow, and get the other one into typing. It's really kind of cool. One of the sites is in Baltimore, and I think you can see the effect of sea level rise on the groundwater levels in the wells.

***

Dad had his knee replaced on Friday- he ended up only getting a partial instead of a full (which is kind of like saying you "only" had to have bypass surgery and not triple bypass). But he came home today, so I'm going to call them later and see how its going.

***

The check engine light in my car has come on. D: Probably nothing, but I'm getting it checked anyway. I need to meet one of the managers at the mechanic's- not only was he nice enough to tell me where he gets work done on his car, but he offered to give me a ride. Of course, if my car is really going to explode and it will take a few days to fix, I'm calling Enterprise. Not going to take advantage of someone's goodwill like that.

***

Remember the 1400 foot dry hole, and how the property owner called in a dowser to find another spot? Guess what he found? A 700 foot dry hole! Score one for real science! Of course, that means the last site we're trying is do-or-die. And they're drilling tomorrow. Freakin yay.

I just got off the phone with my parents, and somehow we got into a conversation about how other people's houses were decorated. I mentioned that I had seen one apartment where they had turned the dining area into a sort of library and breakfast nook, and I was debating getting some bookshelves. I need more book storage space, the little Ikea bookshelf isn't cutting it anymore.

"Don't go out and buy the most expensive thing," Mom said, always frugal. It's how she grew up. It's still really hard to convince her to do stuff for herself, and she feels guilty everytime she does. When she brought home her new sewing machine, she had this expression on her face like she had hit a homeless guy on the way home and had stuffed his body in the trunk.

"I was planning on buying secondhand, anyway. There's some nice antique stores around here, and I was looking for an excuse to go."

"Good- and don't pay too much, no matter what they tell you its made out of."

I laughed and reassured her that I wouldn't. "Hey, I won't even have to have it delivered- I can just wait until I'm out in the field, and I can use a company truck. Just zip over, load it up, drop it off, and have everything back to equipment and supply before you can say 'P-52's broke down again!'"

Dad said, "So you're driving the truck now, huh?"

I kind of puzzled over this; I'm the oldest child and the only girl, so there's two reasons for my parents to worry sick about me. I was their first try- my brother owes me big time for breaking them in. "Er- yeah. It's no big deal. It's just a pickup truck."

Dad laughed. "Sweetie, don't take this the wrong way, but you've really grown up! I can remember when you wouldn't drive the tractor, and you were scared of my pickup!" In my defense, my dad was usually unhappy when I mowed the lawn (none of the oak saplings in the eastern part survived that year), and he was usually growling at me when I was driving the truck (learner's permit, ahoy!), so I was kind of turned off by that. But yeah. I had gotten over it.

I laughed too. "Yeah, Dad, I guess I have."

Heh. I want a cookie and a star sticker.

My dad wished my mom a Happy Thanksgiving before he went to work this morning.

No, this is not about the upcoming performance review, though I feel more confident about that than I think I normally would. I guess defending a thesis does that to you. That which doesn't kill me...

This is about the reason why I got into environmental work in the first place.

( It's a long story... )

My brother wants to go to law school.

This is a bad plan of epic proportions.

I mean, the boy wears his heart on his sleeve. I tried to talk politics with him (I really hope he grows out of this Ron Paul phase that he's in), and he stormed out of the room three times angry. About what, may you ask?

1) Why are this century's Mexicans worse than last century's white people (who happened to be our great grandparents) when it comes to letting them in the country? Apparently, this means I accused him of being racist. Though, dude, if you see these accusations on a regular basis as you claimed to when you were flouncing out of the room, there might be something to them.

2) Why is it such a good idea to have a flat tax in the first place? I mean, shouldn't the ultra-rich who (really now) succeed through no effort of their own pay a little bit more to keep other people in food? And why is it so bad to help people keep in food in the first place?

3) Believe it or not, there exist people with kids in areas with no jobs who have no upward mobility. Sure, their kids are covered under S-CHIP and Medicare, but those don't really pay for much, and if you're above a certain income (McD's, anyone?) then you're SOL. How can they get on their feet when we kick their support system out from under them every time they try? And if we don't pay for food, medical care and education, then we pay for all of that and prisons ten years down the road.

If you can't control your emotions with these few simple arguments (which by the way I was sitting on the couch and knitting during), there is no way in hell that you are going to control yourself in a courtroom or negotiations. And by the way? Interrupting someone every time they try to answer one of your frakking questions? Bad form. I don't know if he's like this just because I'm his sister (if that's the case I'm going to show the magazines under his bed to Mom next time I'm home), or just because he's like this. But if he doesn't undergo a major attitude adjustment in the next two years, he won't make it in law, and the JD-MA program in Minnesota he's talking about will be just a waste of time and money.

I kind of hope he gets an internship like he's looking for this summer, just so he can see how miserable it really is. I briefly looked into patent and IP law when I was in his shoes a few years back; it sounded tempting, but the market for lawyers is already oversaturated, and competition is cutthroat. I decided to back out of it after hearing stories of coffee cups being hurled at peoples' heads inside the office. He was not kidding.

My brother can't argue politely (with me), he's going to end up far from home, and his job is going to be completely hostile. He won't make it. Granted, the only other option is teaching college level English or History, but I think that he'd be great at that, and he's selling himself short if he thinks he wouldn't. I wish he'd rethink this whole law thing... oh well... he's got a year to mull it over, I guess.

Ever know of anyone close to you who is on the verge of making a horrendously bad decision like this?