Transplanted Life
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The very definition of trading up: Kate and I had tickets for the Sox game on Sunday that got rained out. Sadly, rather than seeing the game on a rainy Sunday in April, we're going to have to skip work on a Friday in August.

It still would have been pretty cool to see Beckett continue what looks like a really good start, though. After the disappointing finish to last year's campaign, it's great to be looking forward to a potentially great game every day. I don't know how fans of other sports handle the whole "off day" thing.

Those tickets weren't the only thing that got a little better in the past couple of weeks; I'm getting paid more money at work. More than a little, to be honest, but naming figures is tacky. I didn't get promoted, as such, but someone with more seniority left the company for a better job. This happens on occasion, but it's made me among the most senior people in my department, and management always gets a little worried - maybe Jack doesn't believe telling people how much money he makes in a year is tacky like Marti does, and what if the staff suddenly gets the idea that they could be making more money? So some modest raises are given, also reflecting that you're going to be higher on the totem pole.

And, of course, that the same amount of work is being divided among fewer people until someone new is hired. I must admit, a little extra money has made it harder to think "screw this, I'm putting my résumé on Monster!" when I'm staying for longer hours or helping with interviews.

God, do I hate helping with interviews. Since everyone is moving up a notch, we're looking to fill the departing senior person's position with an entry-level hire, so we're interviewing a lot of college kids. They're all eager to talk about the C# and .NET stuff they know, reminding me that my skills are a little out of date. And, of course, seventy-five percent of them are guys and seventy-five percent of those stare at my boobs at some point. It used to bother me as a reminder of what I thought I should be or how it reminded me I was a freak, but I've apparently been a woman long enough to have lost a bunch of lingering empathy for how guys can't help but check an attractive woman out.

Anyway, the busier work schedule and the crappy weather were both part of why it took so long to see Amy and finding out how her trip "home" went. She didn't want to just discuss it online or over the phone, so we ordered some pizzas and sat down to watch the ballgame. Which we didn't realize was an afternoon game. Well, that kept us from getting distracted.

It was, Amy said, very strange. She kind of thinks "mom" never really understood what she was getting at. Her father was hard to convince, and she isn't sure that he really, truly believes her. She showed them the blog, and all the medical and scientific evidence Mags and company had produced, but that just made it look like an elaborate prank. Eventually, she convinced her father to call Agent Jones, although Mrs. Sanada started to protest when she heard the letters "FBI", saying they'd done nothing to help find Amy and all they wanted to do was spy on people.

Eventually she persuaded her father to talk to them, and though he found it hard to believe, he eventually did accept it. After that, she said, things got strange.

"We didn't quite have a funeral, but we did some of the rituals. I'd met some of Amy's old friends before, but there were more of them this time. They said goodbye. Most of them just thought 'Amy' had heard from doctors, and wouldn't ever get her memory back, and had maybe had some sort of mini-stroke that affected her personality. It was nice, actually. You ought to do it for Michelle."

I told her I wasn't sure she was totally gone.

After that came a harder discussion. The Sanadas had said goodbye to their daughter, but she was still there. It was, they said, like discovering a daughter you never knew you had or finding her returned after a long abduction. They felt that kind of connection, Amy said, but weren't sure what to make of it.

So she's still part of the family, although they're still trying to feel out just what that entails.


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