#480 Good, Middlin', and Bad

Busy day today. Good - A few things accomplished. Middlin' - A lot of hurry up and wait. Bad - A lot of pain.

I was awakened this morning by a call from Piper. We'll meet Thursday, early afternoon, to finalize the plans for balancing the portfolio. He wanted to make it lunch, but I have too much other stuff to do that day. Puttered around, washed hair, etc.

Then across the river to the mall to the computer expert to get the scholarship application printed. He also made 30 copies of the 2-page document, and didn't charge me a cent for anything.

That all went so quickly that I was left with an hour before the appointment with the lawyer about the easement, not enough time to go home. So I ate a late lunch/early dinner at what happens to be Piper's favorite restaurant. They have things like $9 appetizers that turn out to be a whole meal. The full entrees there are simply too big for me. I don't understand why they charge $18 for a huge loaded plate. Why can't I get half the food for half that price? Frankly, I think it's a secret way to increase profits. It's like two people eating in one seat, requiring half the waitstaff.

Even with just a shrimp, spinach, and cheese roll appetizer, I ended up doggying half of it.

Then to the lawyer. My appointment was for 4 pm, but I got there at 3:45, and he took me right in. He filled out the tax forms for me (the state apparently considers the granting of an easement to be a sale). I had found a serious error in the survey of the easement - the way they had it written, instead of going up the edge of the lot, the line went across the middle of my front yard and into the neighbor's yard. They had an "E" where it should have been a "W", so the line veered. A little whiteout and a black pen fixed that. He also added a paragraph that maintenance was to be done at no expense to me, and answered my concerns about how the easement contract specified compensation of $1, and there was a separate contract for the brush clearing, which was to be the REAL compensation (if I had to hire someone for that, it would be at least $2,000.) I was out of there by 4 pm, and he didn't charge me a cent.

I'm beginning to wonder why I didn't get a free lunch.

I was left with an hour before I had to go to class, not enough time to go home. So I went to the classroom (an hour+ drive, at rush hour no less) early and spent the time collating and folding the scholarship forms.

The class was 4 hours long. I wasn't sure I was going to make it through it. For some reason, after a few years of hurting in only two or three places at a time, today I hurt all over. It seems to have started last Friday, with pain in my left foot and ankle, left hip, back of my neck, and temples. I've been taking glucosamine condroitin (spelling? I'm not about to look it up!) on May's recommendation. She says it did wonders for her joints, but it takes a very long time to kick in. I also recently increased my calcium supplements on the advice of my doctor. I'm thinking maybe neither of those are good for me with my problems.

I don't metabolize calcium very well, and it can build up in deposits in my joints, and as "gravel" in my muscles. I think that's what's going on in my foot, ankle, and neck. (Yeah, I'm limping on BOTH feet today.) Oddly enough, the deposits usually eventually dissolve themselves. Ultrasound seems to break up the stubborn patches.

Today, in addition to the foot, ankle, and neck, I had screws twisting into my temples and between my eyebrows, my breastbone was on fire, the middle of my back kept biting me, my lower back ached, the left hip burned, lower right abdomen was cramping, and ... whatever. It was so bad I had to do the relaxation breathing several times during class.

There are only three of us in this class, and when the pain got bad I had to keep forcing my eyes to stay open. Didn't want Roman to think I was falling asleep. I kept slumping, and that would set the back off. I forgot there was a guy sitting next to me, and several times I slipped my hands under my sweater and inside the back of my pants to massage my lower back. I wonder if he got a show. After class, Roman said I seemed to "be out of it tonight." Little does he know....

The temple stuff frightens me. I've heard that tic doloreaux can come back, and I never ever want to see that again. I had it on both sides, 4 to 8 20-minute episodes a day, for 18 months. Mine was so severe the doctors at first refused to believe that's what it was. (It was so severe because it was due to a stretched and twisted brainstem - not the usual cause.) And I can't take pain pills stronger than plain aspirin.

When I got out to the van, a little after 10, the van thermometer said 9 degrees. Driving up route 9, I started shivering so badly I couldn't hold my head still (and I was wearing the warmest of my fox jackets!) and it was messing up my neck even more, not to mention that the head shaking was so violent I couldn't see to drive, so I stopped in Barnes & Noble, and bought some books on HTML and web site design. I keep registering for the web site design class, but apparently I'm the only one who wants it, and they keep canceling it, so I'm giving up. I'll figure it out myself, thank you.

Like I said - a good, middlin', and bad day.

I'd like to sleep in tomorrow, but I also want to take more paper to recycle, which has to be done by noon. Compromise - I won't set the alarm.

~~Silk

#479 Mensa Strikes Again, Worse!

Well, I took my little floppy to Office Depot. I did check it out before I left the house. The documents, a brief description of the scholarship program and a fancy 2-page application form, both display from the floppy on my system, and look good in the print preview. Of course, I didn't attempt to actually print, having, um, like, no printer.

Office Depot was able to display and print the shorter "Word" file. I then made 30 copies of it. The PDF application form, however, was a different matter. When they tried to display it, it was just the title, and then two blank pages. The gal who was trying to do it kept zipping past an error message, and on her fifth try or so I made her stop and read the message to me. Something about "unable to extract embedded font". She called over another guy who claimed to know what he was doing, and he tried to tell me that it "must have been formatted on an old system. Nobody much uses these 5 1/2 inch floppies any more." Huh? I don't know much, but I know he was full of bananas. It was a 3 1/2 inch firmie! And the medium should have had nothing to do with it anyway, as long as his machine has a right-sized hole to stick it in! They told me to try Staples.

Off to Staples.

Same problem. But they said there's an internet cafe in the mall, and I should try there. Wow! I didn't know we had an internet cafe. (It's new. They have them on every block in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, but this is the first one I've heard of in this area.)

Off to the mall. Search the mall. Finally find it. Not a cafe exactly, just a bunch of computers and a kid in a tiny hole in the wall that was a nursing uniform store last time I looked.

I described the problem about the "embedded font", and he said he's familiar with the problem and he knows that's not something he can help me with, it's beyond his expertise, but his father will be in tomorrow, and he's sure Dad can get it to print.

I get to go back to the mall tomorrow. Whoop. So everything I wanted to do early in the day tomorrow, I'll have to do tonight.

And this file wasn't a local production - it came from the Mensa national office. The Mensa Education and Research Foundation, to be exact.

Sheesh! I'm really annoyed. This is what I get for trying to do something right.

~~Silk

#478 Mensa Strikes Again!

I am so flippin' annoyed.

I will be wrapping gifts at the Poughkeepsie Barnes & Noble for donations to the Mensa Scholarship Fund, this Wednesday, from three to eleven pm. I do it every year. There's a minor annoyance in that Bebe, who sets it all up for both Mensa and Sierra Club, scheduled Mensa only for Poughkeepsie (a 50-minute drive for me), but scheduled Sierra Club for both Kingston (a 20-minute drive for me) and Poughkeepsie. Last year I asked her if it would be possible to do Kingston, that I would prefer Kingston, but she didn't get Kingston for us because she didn't think she'd be able to get anyone to cover it. DUH?

I was thinking about how the donations box says on it that it's for the scholarship fund, but there is no other information provided about the scholarships. Bebe always provides all kinds of fliers and brochures about Mensa, and about joining, but nothing about the scholarships. It's easy for people to think that the scholarships are for Mensans only. So Saturday I fired off a note to the board suggesting that it might be a good idea to have info about the availability of the scholarships, maybe even some applications, so people will know that their little chick can apply. Good publicity and might even increase donations.

In my note I was very specific that I DON'T HAVE A WORKING PRINTER, so don't send the info online to me. Send it to Bebe, and she can print it and bring it with her on Wednesday. She'll be working with me from 3 to 6 - another annoyance. She's an incredibly messy wrapper, flatly refuses to learn about creased corners, Candace and I have tried to teach her for four years now, and she just shrugs and says "I can't do that", and it's downright embarrassing what she hands people when they have paid for it.

Ziggy responded with exactly the right stuff - a brief description, and an official application with all the rules and everything. Wonderful. He sent softcopy email attachments to me. Didn't even copy Bebe. In his note, he even acknowledged that he was aware I didn't have a printer, but said that I can "put them on a floppy and get them printed at an Office Depot or somewhere." WTF?

I'm pissed. I had planned to haul my filthy aching body to the basement and spend the entire day down there. Instead, I shall now wash my body and hair, and haul it off across the river to the Office Depot - which, incidentally, is right NEXT DOOR to the Kingston Barnes & Noble.

I can't do it tomorrow because I have a lawyer's appointment (the easement) that I still have to pull papers together for and then a class from 6 to 10 in Wappingers. I can't do it Wednesday morning because (ahem) I want to keep that open "just in case".

So today is already mostly shot. I may as well get the oil changed in the van since I'm crossing the river anyway and it's overdue.

Why don't I just forward it all to Bebe and have her print it off? Because I have not received any response from her to my Saturday note, and I have no confidence that she'd actually do it. Maybe that was Zig's thought, too.

The only consolation to all this is that Roman will be wrapping with me from 6 to 11.

[Edit - the correct time for this entry should be about 10 am. Blogger had a problem and it didn't get stored until later.]

~~Silk

#477 More Basement

I did more in the basement today, still working on it after this break. The past two Saturdays I've taken over 20 bags of paper to the recycle center. So far today I've filled 12 more, and emptied 11 boxes of paper and junk. I'll take the paper to recycle on Wednesday. (They're gonna ban me pretty soon!)

Would you believe a huge box, about 2 feet on all sides, filled with nothing but maps and tourism brochures of Europe, and every American state, dating from the 1970s through 1990? I'm throwing them out. How about a box full of unopened mail from 1982? Or twelve large envelopes of "benefits information" and signup forms from Carnegie Mellon, from when Jay was on the staff there in the mid-70s? Unopened, of course. I wonder if he has retirement benefits languishing there.

A lot of the junk is actually useable stuff, still in gift boxes, so I'll take some of that to the recycle center too, for the trade shed. Maybe somebody will regift them. Jay's ex was a teacher, so she got lots of little gifts that she never used, and her decorating style was cutesy-poo, which isn't me. So the three huge wooden lawn geese are going away, too. (I lean more toward a herd of pink flamingos peeking out of the woods. I'm Victorian with a touch of kitsch.)

We can't put books in the recycle bins, and I'm finding a lot of trash hardcover books down there, like 30-year-old chemistry and math textbooks. I don't know how to dispose of them. Plain garbage, I guess. But awfully heavy.

Many of the boxes I'm getting into now are placed low, on the floor or on bottom shelves. They're too heavy to lift (being full of paper and books), and working on them so low, bending over, is hell on my back. I forgot to put the brace on earlier, but I will definitely wear it when I go back downstairs, or I'm going to be really hurting. My left leg is already burning - a warning sign. Or maybe I'll just give my back a break and cut up boxes instead.

Pretty soon I'll have some shelf space for the storage containers I've been filling with fabric and trims from upstairs. Then I can start clearing up here.

Progress. Slow, but progress.

~~Silk

#476 Cool Highlight Trick / Call From May

I just have to pass on a Windows feature Roman taught me. It's pretty cool, and I was totally unaware of it! Everybody knows you can select (or highlight) several items by pressing the CTRL key as you select/highlight with the mouse. But did you know the "Shift key" trick?

Suppose you want to highlight a very long passage in a document. You can start at the top left corner and hold the mouse button down as you scroll down to the lower right of whatever you want to highlight. If there's a lot, you s-c-r-o-l-l slowly forever through multiple screens.

To do it lots faster, highlight the first word, line, whatever, release the mouse button, page down to the bottom of what you want using the scroll bar on the right, then hold down the shift key and use the mouse to highlight the last words that you want. Everything from the first words you selected to the last words that you selected with the shift key pressed will be highlighted.

Cool, huh? Howcum I never heard of that before?

-------------------------------------

I guess it's a good thing I didn't call May back last evening. She had called earlier on Friday while I was out, and left a message saying that she wanted to tell me about a retirement investment account she had set up for someone. I called her back at about 3:50 pm and got her machine. I left a message that I would call her later that evening, but then I was worried about waking her from a nap again, so I didn't.

This evening:
RING RING
"Hello."
"Silk, this is May. I got your message from last night. I TOLD you not to worry about me. You don't have to call me to check up on me."
"I wasn't calling to check on you, I was responding to the message you left me earlier Friday. You said you wanted to talk to me."
"Oh, well, I was just replying to your previous checkup call message." [I hadn't called her since Monday, when she'd been annoyed that I woke her.]
"No, you weren't replying to any message from me, your message said something about a retirement account you wanted to tell me about."
"Oh, that."

During the next hour and ten minutes, she told me the same stories she'd told me in the previous call(s).

Now I'm even more worried about her, and even more reluctant to call.

She's only maybe three or four years older than I.

Sigh.

~~Silk

#475 I Guess I Won't Tint It ... Yet

Your Hair Should Be White

Classy, stylish, and eloquent. You've got a way about you that floors everyone you meet.

What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

Is this test trying to tell me something?

I wandered through a store hair coloring section last night. I'm getting bored with "pale ash blonde" (aka yellowed off-white), and I thought I might try a temporary shampoo-in color, something different that would wash out in a week or two. Just to try it. Maybe a light brown, or pale strawberry, or my old chestnut.

But all the temporaries said NOT to use if your hair has been lightened, that the color would not wash out. Well, I lighten the patch right on the top front (I have a dark patch there, like Jay Leno's but lighter). I'm wondering if I could go ahead and use the temporary stuff, and then when it gets icky, maybe I could "lighten" it out?

Decisions, decisions.

~~Silk

#474 16 THINGS THAT IT TOOK ME OVER 50 YEARS TO LEARN

   16 THINGS THAT IT TOOK ME OVER 50 YEARS TO LEARN
                  by Dave Barry

1. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill
and a laxative on the same night.

2. If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why
the human race has not achieved and never will achieve
its full potential, that word would be "meetings."

3. There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental
illness."

4. People who want to share their religious views with
you almost never want you to share yours with them.

5. You should not confuse your career with your life.

6. Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up
and dance.

7. Never lick a steak knife.

8. The most destructive force in the universe is gossip.

9. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear
and compelling reason why we observe daylight savings
time.

10. You should never say anything to a woman that even
remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless
you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that
moment.

11. There comes a time when you should stop expecting
other people to make a big deal about your birthday.
That time is age eleven.

12. The one thing that unites all human beings,
regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or
ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL
believe that we are above average drivers.

13. A person who is nice to you but rude to a waiter is
not a nice person. (This is very important. Pay attention.
It never fails.)

14. Your friends love you anyway.

15. Never be afraid to try something new. Remember that a
lone amateur built the Ark. A large group of professionals
built the Titanic.

16. Men are like fine wine. They start out as grapes, and
it's up to the women to stomp the crap out of them until
they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

~~Silk

#473 First Real Snow

Ten inches in my driveway. Of the four to six inches predicted. Typical.

I spent the early afternoon helping Roman clear his driveway (it was nice to actually work on something together), then came home and cleared my own 350 feet plus the ten-car-park sized area at the top. I got home about 3:40, started throwing snow at 3:50, and finished at 5:30. In full dark. Luckily, the snowthrower has a headlight. Unfortunately, the headlight is mounted on the handles, behind and above the motor, scoop, and chute, so the actual path one wants to clear is in deep shadow.

I had cleared enough to get the van up by sundown, and thought about quitting then and finishing tomorrow, but I hadn't had an oil delivery since last winter, and the guy won't bring the oil truck up unless he can turn the monster around at the top, so I figured just to be safe I'd better finish it all. If I left any undone and it thawed and refroze, I'd be in big trouble.

Naturally, after I got it all done, I found the oil invoice tucked in the front doorframe. It was delivered yesterday, after I had left for class I guess. 235.4 gallons. I have a 250 gallon tank. Ouch. $635 dollars. Double ouch. I have prepaid to get the best price, and I guess I have two more deliveries on the balance.

May had called earlier today, long before I got home, and left a message, she wants to talk to me about something she has done. So when I got home, before clearing the driveway, I called her back to tell her I'd call after I finished. Got her machine. I left her a message that I'd call again after I finished the driveway, but now I'm afraid to, after Monday's fiasco. Sigh.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the dream from entry #466:

I was rereading entry #468, concerning temperament, and where it says I'm withdrawn and reserved, I thought "Well, withdrawn, yeah, but I'm not sure about reserved. If you poke me, all kinds of intimate and better-left-unsaid things will come pouring out." Ahah! The icky stuff that came pouring out of me in the dream! I'm beginning to make the connections. The spider webs were rather transparent, really. (That's not a pun.) So's the deformed dog.

~~Silk

#472 Thursday

Quick entry - class tonight.

I completely forgot about an appointment with a lawyer this morning to discuss my allowing a neighbor an easement across my property. Bleck. He's not easy to get an appointment with. I had to drop names to get the first appointment! Rescheduled for Tuesday next week.

Piper called this afternoon to tell me he'd call Monday or Tuesday to set up an appointment Thursday or Friday. The man is nuts.

Snow predicted overnight, 4 to 6 inches, ending by 1 pm tomorrow. No big deal.

I figured out some of October's dream - next entry.

~~Silk

#471 Holding an Image

Once upon a time, a long time ago, a very poetic young man who knew me well, heart, mind, body and soul, who loved me deeply, told me something.

He said that I was proto-woman, the model on which all other women were made. That I was earth, moon, and fire. That in my eyes a man saw the best of himself, and in my arms he was reborn. That my touch was magic, that my wisdom grounded a man and gave him strength. That knowing that my love was deep and without reservation, a man could feel free.

Obie died in an automobile accident at thirty-one.

Now, when I feel rejected, when I begin to wonder if there's anything left for me of love, I remember him. He was the most sensitive person I've ever known. He's still a part of me, and I feel like I have to live up to his words. Sometimes I even believe them.

If I can do that, I can have Love. I can give Love.

Even if I don't have a man to hold.

~~Silk

#470 Dinner Tonight

I'm going out for dinner tonight at the Saigon Cafe in Poughkeepsie, with Mensa. So far all I know for sure will be there is Ziggy, Roman, and me. There are lots of members in Pok, so there should be more, but snow is (sort of - they keep moving it out) predicted, so I don't know. Only one other person on the Mensa Yahoo group even asked where the place is, let alone said they'd be there.

Leaving here at six pm.

The remarkable thing is that even with snow, and even if Roman weren't going to be there, I'd go anyway. I'm feeling pretty feisty lately. Got an itch to go and do. Even with all the angst, I'm feeling pretty good.

I must thrive on a challenge.

Later edit: Present were Ziggy, Les, Angela (who was very worried about snow, but came anyway), Eric, Charlie, and us. A good group. Good talk. I wish people would stay longer. (PS - I LIKE Vietnamese food.)

~~Silk

#469 Lights! Action! Squirrels!

I was reading Jeanette's journal, at http://journals.aol.co.uk/jeanno43/JeannettesJottings/entries/1643, wherein she has photos of her holiday decorations. Pretty. I like looking at what other people do, but I'm not very enthusiastic about decorating for the holidays myself. I'm technically not Christian, and the remaining materialistic aspects leave me cold. I'll do Yule - the return of the sun. I think on Yule, the 21st, I'll have a bonfire in the front yard. There's a pile of brush ready to go.

When Jay and I were first married and he was working across the river, he came home every night across the fields. The house is up on a hill, so for the last mile of his drive, when the leaves are off the trees, he could see the house. So one December day I decided to surprise him with lights on the deck railing across the back of the house, so he would see them crossing the fields. A welcome home.

I used the large old-fashioned bulbs, so they'd really show up at a distance, and I made big deep loops. That first night they looked great.

The next night, when I went to plug them in, several of the red bulbs were broken. Only the red. I replaced them with more reds. The next evening, more red bulbs were broken. Mystery. What happened to them? And why only reds? Were they blowing out from cold or heat or something? They were literally smashed - just shards left in the sockets.

Running low on reds, I replaced a few red, and the remainder with other colors.

Next evening, the last of the red were broken, and some of the orange ones. By now, I had figured out that the breakage occurred not during the night, when they were on, but during the day, when they were off. I decided to leave the curtains open, and watch them.

It was squirrels! They were gnawing on the bulbs until they broke! I guess they thought the red ones were ripe. The orange ones were maybe almost ripe.

A friend suggested leaving the lights on all the time, but I didn't want to electrocute any of my little friends, so instead I changed all the bulbs to green and blue and ... whatever else was not a "berry" color.

The little buggers changed tactics.

They actually, I'm not kidding, this is not an exaggeration, they actually bit through the wires, and stole whole lengths of lights. Pieces of wire with three, four, five bulbs on them. They took them up into the trees around the yard and draped them over branches. The oak, maple, and cherry trees on the side of the back yard were festooned with lengths of my lights!

Jay's theory was that they thought these "berries" weren't ripe yet, so they were storing them until they ripened.

I gave up.

~~Silk

#468 My Temperament

This does feel right, in all aspects, except for the last three words. I usually have no difficulty making decisions, because I always have a backup plan if I make the wrong decision. All that thinking, I guess. And lately, the past few months, I have been trapped in negative thinking, especially when my imagination ran riot. I have decided not to do that any more. I'll take the best and leave the rest, and that does seem to make the best better.

You Have a Melancholic Temperament

Introspective and reflective, you think about everything and anything. You are a soft-hearted daydreamer. You long for your ideal life. You love silence and solitude. Everyday life is usually too chaotic for you. Given enough time alone, it's easy for you to find inner peace. You tend to be spiritual, having found your own meaning of life. Wise and patient, you can help people through difficult times. At your worst, you brood and sulk. Your negative thoughts can trap you. You are reserved and withdrawn. This makes it hard to connect to others. You tend to over think small things, making decisions difficult.

What Temperment Are You?

~~Silk

#467 Calling May; Excel Class

In line with my new attempt to be helpful, I called May again last night, about 8 pm. Got her machine (which doesn't have an outgoing message - she hasn't figured out how to do one (?)). That was a bit worrisome. I left a message that I'd try again later, and if she didn't answer, I wouldn't be responsible for the EMTs breaking down her door.

I called again at 10 pm, and again no answer. I again left a message, saying that if I didn't hear from her within an hour, I was going to run over there and check on her.

She called back ten minutes later. She had been napping. The first call woke her, but she couldn't get untangled from the blankets and didn't make it to the phone in time, so she went back to sleep. The second call also woke her. (Which is strange - she's a worse night owl than I - she's usually up 'til dawn, and sleeps all morning.)

So anyway, she said she doesn't need checkup calls, and I should cease and desist. This after doing a 15-minute stint Saturday morning on how worried she is that she will fall or be unconscious or stroke out or something and not be able to press the magic button, and not be found for days.

Phooey. I guess all that was just blather.

I have to pay some bills, and get dressed for class this evening. I'm meeting the instructor for dinner in Wappingers at 5, class is at 6:30, and I have to run a few errands on the way, so I have to leave about 3:30.

Roman, as an instructor, by the way, is excellent. I'm glad I got to see him in his element. He obviously enjoys what he does. Even though he's taught this particular subject many times, and even though most of the material is intuitive, and even though some of the students are annoying, he shows no signs of being jaded, maintains a high interest level and good vocal quality, moves through the material in a logical progression and at an appropriate speed, never condescends, and actually on occasion says "I don't know."

I just wish he wouldn't smile so much. I have trouble concentrating when he smiles. Even though he is careful not to look my way very often.

~~Silk

#466 October Dream

I had the following dream way back in October. I still haven't figured it out, and it's still bothering me. There's something very significant about the doggie, and the way to get upstairs in that strange house. The doggie is comforting, and the "slot stairs" are frightening.

Dream. Night of 10/12-10/13/05

Someone shows me a dog's head, looks like severed head, afraid to look at backside see all severed stuff, surprised it's alive not a severed head, back side is smooth, has small front legs/paws near front, look harder tiny stubby hoppy hind legs, born that way, deformed, I want to keep, make happy doggy. Doggy happy. Can talk, but only to me.

Boat across lake to park, across park to old house, "family" in house - not blood relatives, more like in-laws or something, big affair coming up, maybe a wedding or something, my clothes in van on other side of lake, no problem, can find something for you, go upstairs to change. Strange staircase, door in wall over 5' high bookcase, must climb up bookcase, open door, very shallow slot in wall with extremely steep stairs, almost ladder, so shallow and narrow it scares me, I can't go up that, it scares me. Ok, use other stairs. Around corner to other room, same arrangement with bookcase and narrow slot for stairs but slot is less narrow, bookcase is higher, try but can't climb bookcase, the shelves keep tipping spilling books when try. Can't understand why such stupid stairs, family can't see anything wrong, use them all the time.

Change clothes in downstairs bedroom, have been given a very dull dark suit. Looking in mirror, notice tiny pimple on forehead, squeeze it, ropes and ropes of ivory cheesy stuff comes out, keeps coming, pounds of it, builds up in lap, on arms of suit. Everywhere I touch my face it opens up and this stuff comes out. It is coming out of slots now, so it drapes itself on my lap like taffy ready to be pulled. Think has something to do with the fact that I am losing weight, like this is the empty fat cells or something. Lift it off arms and lap and dump into a waste basket, and go to woman who lent me the suit, and tell her it needs washing and I will go get my own clothes. Everyone else is dressed and ready to go, but they don't seem at all concerned about my not being ready.

Dog and I head for boat. On the way, pass a tiny white cabin where a black family has just arrived to stay for summer holiday, they are all excited because they have a tiny new puppy, dog and I stop to see puppy, man opens hand and there is tiny pink thing, like fetus, like kidney bean. Dog goes to sniff "puppy", it falls out of man's hand and goes between boards of porch, family angry, I try to go around house and away but spider webs everywhere near house, keep running into active spider webs, finally get away. Go to where I thought I left boat, but I am off by a bit and see boat on shore beyond small inlet, looks shallow, decide to wade across, step into sudden deep part, up to mid-chest, dog swimming to other side on leash, I struggle across, can't get up other bank, all soft mud falls in on me, can't get up, "Pull, Doggy! Pull!' finally get up somehow. Row boat across to van. Wake up.

~~Silk

#465 Another Good Day

We got a few inches of snow overnight. It will probably melt away over the next few days, but every time I've said that in the past, it only partially melted, and then I had to cope with a layer of ice and frozen slush for the rest of the winter.

So I got the snow thrower out. And no, even after all my reminders to myself, I hadn't yet tried starting it.

I was very surprised and pleased when it started on the second try! I cleared the entire driveway. I had to move several piles of brush lying on the drive to the burn pile - something else I should have done weeks ago. Two jobs done. I am very pleased with myself.

The snowthrower is running well, but it's throwing occasional drops of something bright fuscia-pink off to the side, so I guess I'll have to get that checked. The van will earn its keep yet again.

I had my good fur-trimmed leather dress gloves on to run the snowthrower. They're the warmest and driest, and wouldn't get messed up just guiding the machine, but I still had them on when I moved the brush pile. A big thorn snagged the tip of one finger and tore a big hole. So, (pssst - Daughter) if someone is wondering what I want for Yule (December 21, by the way), nice cotton-lined fur-trimmed leather gloves would do. Size 7, I think. Black.

Then I wandered around the house with a garbage bag and started throwing stuff out. I may regret losing some of it later, but right now it's very satisfying.

I rinse cat food cans and set them aside for recycling, but I like to wash them and remove pull tabs before I actually take them to the center, so I washed 21 cans this afternoon. Burned more paper. Put laundry away. Ran a virus scan. Moved 12 teapots from the kitchen counter to the hall bookcase. Read three newspapers. Did a crossword puzzle. Started clearing out the laundry room shelves. Called May.

I didn't make the Thanksgiving deadline for the house, but I am finally making progress. (No, Daughter - all the television sets still work just fine. I'm just working better.)

~~Silk

#464 Nana's Burning Bears?

I should have mentioned this when I wrote about Thanksgiving, but I forgot.

Hercules' grandmother, Nana, has a fireplace in the living room. I walked past it at one point, and behind the screen, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something brightly colored. I looked in.

In the fireplace, in the fire basket (you know, that cast iron arrangement that you put the logs on to hold them off the bottom?), Hercules' sweet little old lady Nana had heaps of stuffed animals. Teddy bears, fuzzy stuffed bunnies, kittens and puppies. Pleading for no one to light a match.

Just about the most macabre thing I've ever seen.

Would you believe nobody had a camera? Hercules took a photo for me with his cell phone, and emailed it to my id, but when I got home I found that it didn't come out. Too dark.

Then again, too dark fits.


Interesting Thought for the day:

Got this from a friend a long time ago. It's going around again. I suspect that the numbers could use some updating, but the ratios have probably stayed about the same.

If you consider that there have been an average of 160,000 troops in the Iraq Theater of operations during the last 22 months, and a total of 2112 deaths, that gives a firearm death rate of 60 per 100,000. The rate in Washington D.C. is 80.6 per 100,000. That means that you are about 25% more likely to be shot and killed in our Nation's Capitol (which has some of the strictest gun control laws in the nation) than you are in Iraq.

Conclusion: We should immediately pull out of Washington D.C.

~~Silk

#463 An Ordinary but Satisfying Day.

Today was a pretty good day, with the exception of one major hitch in my gitalong.

I was awakened by a call from May (the widow of about a year). She's going to have a small champagne gathering and wanted to know if I'd come. We talked for a while. She's very concerned about being alone. She has the Lifeline button, but she is not steady on her feet (an inner ear problem), and is worried that she will fall and either not have the button, won't be able to press it, won't hear the squawk box (she doesn't have to hear it actually, but I wasn't able to tell her that because talking with her can be frustrating - she bowls right over anything you say, you never ever! ever! get to complete a sentence), or she will be unconscious, and it would be days before anyone got worried enough to check on her. She's very concerned about that. She asked me if I was scared about it, and although I'm aware it's a possibility, it doesn't worry me. Not right now, anyway.

I want to decide to call her every evening. I really want to. But I just can't bring myself to make that commitment. I'd have to wear an alarm clock to remember. And sometimes she's difficult to get off the phone. I'm a bad bad person. Maybe I won't commit to call, but I'll just call whenever I remember. Is that bad?

She woke me early enough that I was able to take some paper to the recycle center. I took the garden cart around to the lower basement door, and loaded 10 bags of paper into it. At first I thought I had overloaded it, because it was very difficult to get it moving up the hill. Nope. One of the tires had gone flat, and my trying to drag it caused the tire to come right off the rim. It's all torn up and twisted. I don't know what I'm going to do next. The tire place in Rhinebeck doesn't handle tires as small as this. And I was counting on this cart to get the storage containers to the basement - like today and tomorrow. Guess not.

So I carried the paper up to the van by hand, and took those ten bags and some huge bags of plastic peanuts to the recycle center. I rarely take my purse when I go there, because I'm going back and forth to the bins, but today I wanted to stop at the bank and deposit my retirement check, so I did. As I was going down the highway, I saw billows of smoke coming from the Elks' parking lot. Wow! Goody! Barbecue chicken! And the best baked potatoes ever. The Elks set up huge sliced drums on occasional Saturday mornings during the summer. I never know when it's coming, and when I do pass it, on a Saturday morning, I'm headed for the recycle center and never have money, but today we hit it right. I had my purse. $4.50 for half a chicken and $.50 for a huge potato, in a foil bag. I got two bags. (Yeah, I've got a doggie bag habit.)

Piper and I had talked about movies last night, and I happened to have a copy of "The Bridge" in my van and said I'd lend it to him, but when we got back to the village, I forgot. He'd done some heavy trading on Friday, and had said he had to go into the office to clean up paperwork today, so on the way to recycle I stopped by his office to give him the DVD. The little sign on the door said "Open", but the office was dark and he wasn't there.

I am responsible for that sign. He's semiretired, and has clients in the village, so he wanders in and out of his office whenever he feels like it (like multi-hour lunches). Many times I had stopped by with papers for him, and found the door open, the lights on, but no one there. Many times I waited an hour, but he didn't come back. The Angel is worse. I sometimes wonder if the Angel ever sits down in there. He'll be in and out again three times in an hour. So I recommended that they get one of those little "Back at (clock with adjustable hands)" signs for his door. It says "Open, walk in" on the other side.

I guess now I'm going to have to teach him how to use it. It is perpetually on "Open".

At the recycle center, they have changed the bin they use for good paper. It's much bigger, and the opening is way over my head. Those bags are too heavy for me to lift that high. Luckily, there was a man there to help. He about choked when he saw how much I had, but on the other hand, the new bin is much larger than the old, so I didn't feel as much like I was overwhelming the facility. Good. Don't know what else I could do with all this paper if they couldn't handle it.

Back to the village and on to the bank. New Saturday hours - open 'til 1 - so I was able to go in, which means the money will be available to me now, three days earlier than if I had to deposit the check through the ATM.

'Nother stop at Piper's, since I had to pass there anyway. I was standing outside his "Open" locked door when I heard wild honking from the street. He had arrived. I gave him the tape and tried to show him the reviews of the "The Bridge" on Amazon, but couldn't find it listed any more. I guess I bought it just in time. But he learned about Amazon, so it wasn't entirely a waste.

Then a visit to Tall Dark & Handsome #2 to buy a drink to have with my chicken.

Then home to my chicken and wonderful potato, which had filled the van with aromatic enticement all that time. (I added a handful of fresh broccoli.)

You know, reading this, it doesn't sound like such a good day. Pretty ordinary, actually. I guess just getting some major paper out of the house made it special. A good feeling.

I'll have to walk a lot tomorrow, though. I've had three meals in three days, not to mention the second doggie bagged chicken and potato in the refrigerator.

~~Silk

#462 Perception?

Dinner in Rhinebeck last night, then to Woodstock, arriving just in time for the dancers. Piper enjoyed it very much. The Gypsy and the Pixie didn't make it, although both had intended to, but there were other people I knew, and it was nice to see them, and in that context.

It was a good show (although one of the dancers was definitely NOT ready for prime time, and she happened to be the one smack in front of us the whole time). Then I wanted to walk around the village, but by then all the carolers and whatever else was happening was over, and the temperature had dropped a lot, the wind had picked up, and it was obvious Piper was freezing his ears off, so we took a short walk with stops in a few stores, and then home. Well, back to my car, which was parked in front of his office.

I was very happy with the way it went. He used the words "although this is not a date" as he was insisting on paying for both dinners, and later called me a "friend as well as a client". That's good. I like him as a friend. That could work. I am content.

There is something sort of troubling, though. At lunch a few weeks ago, he used some names that someone not "in my life" would be extremely unlikely to come up with, and when I asked him where he got those names, he said "I had you investigated", and then he laughed it off and claimed it was just coincidence. Then he sort of warned me about a situation I was into, about which he should have known nothing, and since then, I have finally learned what he was referring to, he could have not have been more specific, and he was absolutely correct. And the specifics were not mine, but those of another person with whom I am involved. That would be scary enough, but last night, some of the topics he brought up could have come straight from my journal. He doesn't know about my journals. My real name and real email address is not connected with this journal. He doesn't even know my email address or AOL screen name. And yet I'd swear he's read them (this one and the previous one). (Later update - Agh! He knows I use "S........m", and Google would send anyone looking for S.........m right here. On the other hand, he is computer illiterate, beyond what is required for his business. On the third hand, he hires people who do know the internet. The Angel? Hmmmmm. Interesting. But that still doesn't explain the other stuff.)

Either he is extremely perceptive, or he really has had me investigated. And is continuing to get reports. I had told him on Wednesday, when he asked, that I was cooling it a bit with Roman. But he seemed to know last night that it wasn't nearly over at all, not as anyone else might define it. (Nothing specific, more an attitude, a skirting of the issue, a lack of curiosity perhaps.) That's scary.

I am entirely open, I have nothing to hide, I would tell him the truth about anything he asked about, so his knowing these things doesn't bother me. But he seems to know too much that didn't come FROM me, and that DOES bother me, because I don't know where he's getting it.

Can he really be that perceptive? Is this entirely innocent, and I'm being paranoid? He may look like a cherub, and talk like an excited kid, but I have a feeling there's some cold hard steel in the core. A look in the eyes every so often. "Business is Business". A cherub is not going to go into billion-dollar business dealings with Arab states and come out smiling.

Or maybe only a cherub could.

~~Silk

#461 My Life, Rated

Another silly test. I expected the high rating in the finances, but I'm rather pleased with the spiritual rating. They even asked for my advice - "Your Spirit score is very high, much higher than the average. If you wouldn't mind, please take a little time to explain how you manage to succeed so well at this aspect of your life. Your words may be read by someone else who scored very low. Take a moment to give them some useful advice. Your thoughts are very much appreciated." (I didn't leave any advice. I wouldn't know how to advise anyone except to maybe forget everything you have been taught, learn who you are, and listen for the revelations that will come to you if you are open to them.)

Again, there weren't enough questions for this to be any kind of accurate, but taking the test does make one think about some things one might have been ignoring.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	7.6
Mind:	7.9
Body:	7.5
Spirit:	9.6
Friends/Family:	5.9
Love:	6.9
Finance:	8.8
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Your Life Analysis:

Life: Your life rating is a score of the sum total of your life, and accounts for how satisfied, successful, balanced, capable, valuable, and happy you are. The quiz attempts to put a number on the summation of all of these things, based on your answers. Your life score is reasonably high. This means that you are on a good path. Continue doing what is working and set about to improve in areas which continue to lag. Do this starting today and you will begin to reap the benefits immediately. (Read more on improving your life)

Mind: Your mind rating is a score of your mind's clarity, ability, and health. Higher scores indicate an advancement in knowledge, clear and capable thinking, high mental health, and pure thought free of interference. Your mind score is within a healthy zone. This means you have achieved a level of mental balance and harmony consistent with living a healthy, happy life. Continue doing what works, and keep your focus. In our fast-paced world, mental clutter is all too common. Be vigilant in maintaining healthy mental function. Read advice from other quiz-takers on improving the mind.

Body: Your body rating measures your body's health, fitness, and general wellness. A healthy body contributes to a happy life, however many of us are lacking in this area. You have a rather good body score, which is an indication that you take care of yourself. There is room for improvement, however. Please keep doing what works. Eat right, exercise, reduce your stress, treat any illness. Doing these things will help ensure your body will be in good working order for a long time to come. Read advice from other quiz-takers on improving the body.

Spirit: Your spirit rating seeks to capture in a number that elusive quality which is found in your faith, your attitude, and your philosophy on life. A higher score indicates a greater sense of inner peace and balance. Your spirit score is dramatic. Continue on your path, do not stray. Continue to reap the rewards which your spirituality brings forth. Read advice from other quiz-takers on improving the spirit.

Friends/Family: Your friends and family rating measures your relationships with those around you, and is based on how large, healthy, and dependable your social network is. Your friends and family score is not bad but can be improved. Maintain your current social net, while you try to expand it. Try new things and form new friendships. You will be rewarded greatly.

Love: Your love rating is a measure of your current romantic situation. Sharing your heart with another person is one of life's most glorious, terrifying, rewarding experiences. Your love score is in good shape, meaning that things are going well. Do all you can to maintain it, and continue to grow and move ahead. Read advice from other quiz-takers on finding and maintaining love.

Finance: Your finance rating is a score that rates your current financial health and stability. Your financial score is impressive. You seem to be doing everything right in this area, so keep up what you're doing. Do not fall into common traps and continue planning for long-term stability. Read advice from other quiz-takers on improving your finances.

Averages, of over 2,000 tests:

Life:
You:	7.6
Average:	6.4
Mind:
You:	7.9
Average:	6.3
Body:
You:	7.5
Average:	5.9
Spirit:
You:	9.6
Average:	7.1
Friends/Family:
You:	5.9
Average:	5.7
Love:
You:	6.9
Average:	5.3
Finance:
You:	8.8
Average:	6.8

#460 Woodstock Open House

I'm going to the Woodstock Open House tonight. Decorated storefronts, carolers, street music, ice sculptures, that sort of thing. But mainly, Perizad and the Twisted Tassels (http://www.twistedtassels.com/twisted_tassels_007.htm - for some reason I can't make this work as a link, and I don't have time to fiddle with it right now, so just copy and paste to your browser to visit them) will be dancing at the Joyous Lake, and I want to see them. I know a few of the dancers.

I had promised Piper and The Angel long ago that I'd show them some good bellydancers, and since this is tribal style, it's ideal, so I invited them. The Angel wanted to go, but couldn't make it, so it's Piper and me. We'll have dinner, go to the show, and walk around town, in some order. He's good company.

And he's available on weekends.

Another sigh.

~~Silk

#459 Jean Piaget

I left the following caution on the blog of an education student who had just discovered the writings of Jean Piaget, whom she declared was "absolutely wonderful".

Comment:
I read Piaget back in 1980, when my daughter was 5 years old. When Piaget said that children can't think abstractly until like 12, I think it was, I had a lot of trouble accepting that. That was not my experience with my daughter. He said that up to something like 10 (it was a long time ago, so I may have the numbers wrong), a child will think that a narrow bottle contains more than a wide bottle, even if you show that the contents are the same, because the level in the narrow bottle will be higher. So I experimented.

I got a tall narrow and a short fat bottle, and I measured exactly two ounces of water in a glass measuring cup, in front of my daughter, 5 at the time, and two of her friends, 6-year-old twins Una and Liz. I poured it into the fat bottle. Then I did exactly the same thing with the narrow bottle. Then I asked the girls, "Which bottle has more water in it?" The twins immediately pointed to the tall narrow bottle. Daughter frowned at them, and said "They both have the same. She measured. Remember?"

An argument ensued, during which the twins insisted that the water was higher in the narrow bottle. My daughter stunned us all when she picked up the narrow bottle, laid it on its side, and said, "Now the other one's higher!" The twin's eyes got huge.

So, be careful. Piaget isn't always right, and you could do a disservice to some children if you take him as gospel.

~~Silk

#458 Racing Snow

I've got to get all these storage containers down to the basement. I've got to get it done before snow, because I don't think I can take them down the basement steps and still protect my back. What I want to do is take them out the front door, load them into the garden cart, take them around the house down the hill, and in the lower basement door. Rough if there's snow on the ground. (Although I guess I could clear a path with the snow thrower, if worse comes to worst.)

There has already been three inches of snow over Thanksgiving, which didn't stay around long, and sticking snow in "the hill country" north and west of here. The clouds next to "Friday" on my AOL welcome screen have overnight changed to snowflakes.

Note to self - try starting the snow thrower and get it in for service if it won't start. SOON!

Things are getting desperate around here.

~~Silk

#457 Losing Weight, but Not Changing Shape!

Walked today for the first time in a week. I stopped in at Piper's office and asked him if he'd like to walk with me (he keeps saying when I walk in town I should stop and invite him) but he couldn't leave the office right then. So I talked with him for a half hour or so, which cut the walking time down.

I've noticed that if I don't walk, the weight doesn't move, but when I do walk, the drop is noticeable and immediate - like, the next day. And it holds. Strange. What I eat or don't eat doesn't seem to matter as much as whether I walk or not. And I don't necessarily have to walk that far. Even just 1.5 miles will do it.

Sheesh. Winter coming. Cold. I guess I'd better unclutter the treadmill.

Another odd thing - as I'm losing weight, the shape is staying exactly the same, just getting smaller. So even 20 pounds down, the belly is still yucky sticky-outy compared to the base. No, it's not a muscle thing - it's a soft pad on top of muscle. Under all that famine-relief pack is a six-pack. Hard. Flat. Isometrics. Isotonic. Good stuff.

I know fasting is wrong, but I eat something other than 6 to 12 ounces of yogurt only about every other day, and when I do eat, I get way fewer than 1000 calories a day, usually closer to 600. Mostly I'm just not hungry these days. And yet I'm not lacking in energy.

Sigh. I don't understand.

~~Silk

#456 Ice on the Coils?

Daughter - don't be concerned if there's no Tuesday entry. I've got a bunch of errands to run, and a class in the evening.

Anyone - I found heavy icing up on the coils of the dehumidifier in the basement last night, so I turned it off to let the ice melt off. I turned it on again this evening, and now I'm wondering:
- Is heavy white frost on the coils normal? Seems like it would be less efficient....
- Is it something I did wrong, like turn it too high?
- Is it maybe that the basement is too cool? (It's not actually very cool down there - probably high 60s.)
- Is it possible it's always been icy and I never noticed before?
Um, answers, anyone? Is this a problem? Should I ignore it?

~~Silk

#455 Making Progress

I moved the grandfather clock to the basement yesterday.

I removed the pendulum and weights, tied up the chains, turned all the levers, jammed the hand truck under it, tied it top and middle to the uprights, wrestled it out the door and down the hill to the basement door, and into the basement. Whoo! I was not looking forward to moving that thing. It started to kick out at the bottom (guess I should have tied it at the bottom, too, or made sure the middle rope was tighter), but when it reached its final resting spot, I still had about an inch of clock base on the truck, so it made it.

I put the Tibetan chest in that corner, so now I have room to get all these stacked storage containers out the door. That'll give me some space to fill more containers.

Yesterday I also cut up a thousand (or so it seemed - cut up, they made a stack six feet high) empty cardboard boxes in the basement, so now I have room for the storage containers.

I've started another "go to the dump" pile outside the basement door. It's already big. I'm proud of myself. I have all that paper downstairs that I can't burn (right now there's about 40 large grocery bags full, and last night I opened what I thought was a nearly empty box, and found "Science" magazines - a 18" by 18" by knee-high block of them). I guess I'll just throw it all on the outside pile. I'll have to keep the pile covered with plastic - the dump charges by weight, so I don't want it all waterlogged.

I also don't know what I'm going to do with all these rolled-up rugs. They have to be protected from moths. And silverfish. And damp. Eventually they can go on the floor somewhere, but first I have to clear the floor. (First I have to FIND the floor!)

Hush! I'm getting there....

~~Silk

#454 Pity Party - Going It Alone

There was a set of questions going around journals some days or weeks back, one of which was something like "When was the last time you went to a movie alone, and what did you see?"

Most of those who answered the question were of the opinion that going to a movie alone was just too pitiful for words.

I go to movies alone all the time.

Last night, for example, "Pride and Prejudice" at the Upstate. Followed by dinner alone. With a book. Another Saturday night alone.

This Saturday was the worst yet. I am frankly jealous. I don't know how long I can do this.

My friends are all paired off, married, too old, don't drive at night, or are too far away to get together for something as trivial as a movie. I've gone to a few movies just lately with Roman, but when I have time with him, I'd rather we spent the time talking. I'd rather look at him than sit next to him staring at a flickering screen. So, I go to movies alone.

I don't think that's at all as pitiful as sitting in front of the TV, watching the new year's ball drop, alone. Now, THAT's pitiful.

With the exception of 1992 through 2000, when I was with Jay, that's how I've spent every other New Year's Eve of my entire life. With no one to kiss.

You'd think, hey, you had lots of boyfriends, and two previous husbands, what gives?

Well, in high school, I babysat every New Year's. In college, everyone else went home from Christmas through New Year's, so I was left alone in the dorm. When I was dating Ex#1, he worked holidays - more money.

Then after we got married, Ex#1 was away in the Army the whole time we were married. We had one New Year's Eve, but that was after he separated from the army, and I had decided I wanted a divorce. I wasn't strong enough to leave over his objections - I wanted him to agree, to want me to leave. So I didn't spend a lot of time at home. New Year's Eve, I got all dressed up and left the house without saying anything to him, and I went to a club where there was a big party. I didn't go in - I had no reservation - I just wrapped myself up in blankets and slept in the car in the parking lot until morning. Even that didn't faze him. A month later, I left anyway. (Eight months later, he remarried.)

I was married to Ex#2 for twelve years or more, but every New Year's Eve he was either passed out drunk by midnight, or had gone to bed early. Holidays depressed him. All holidays. There actually were a few New Year's when we were visiting his family, and he did stay awake and relatively sober, but he'd be out with the guys at midnight, shooting guns at the moon. THEN he'd pass out.

So, except for Jay, most of my life I've greeted the New Year alone. No one to kiss in the New Year.

You KNOW what this is leading up to.

I'm already anticipating much unhappiness in a month or so.

I don't know why I do stuff like this to myself.

Sniffle.

~~Silk

#453 Another Tribute to Jay

I found the following in my email on my return from Pa. I'm still getting occasional notes like this, and I appreciate them all. Thought I'd share it. I thought this one was remarkable because apparently they were acquainted in middle school, but not so much beyond. Jay would be surprised at the number of people who remembered and appreciated him enough to send me notes. He seemed to think he had no friends in school.
~~Silk



My name is [Name Deleted]. I knew your late husband in Middle School (Iroquois). In fact, he came over to my house on [Street Name Deleted] Road several times for what would now be called "play dates". I wouldn't say we were close friends. However, he was one of my circle of friends from that era. I'm sure he would have remembered me. I read your note about Jay's passing in the IHS 1970 guest book.

I'm so sorry to read that Jay is no longer with us. I knew Jay because he was in my "core" classes in 5th and 6th grade. Iroquois segregated students on the basis of tested IQ into six ability groups. Jay was in Group One, and was generally considered by us mere mortals to be the brightest kid in the class, perhaps the brightest in the entire school. I remember competing against Jay in the 7th grade Science Fair. My Crystal Radio didn't stand a chance against Jay's Liquid Chromatograph (he won first prize). Jay always wanted to be a scientist. I think his Dad was an engineer, as were many of my classmates' fathers in Kodak-oriented West Irondequoit.

Thanks for publishing your moving tribute to Jay. I remember him as a decent and kind young man, who would laugh at your jokes and want to be your pal.

Best regards,
[Name Deleted]
[Town Deleted], CT

#452 I Want to Go Home

I figured out why I hesitated to post this topic (see previous entry).

Because it's revealing.

Several strangers who have somehow found my journal (particularly the earlier entries on AOL, when I was trying to finally let go of Jay) have commented that reading my journal has changed them, that they'd never seen feelings so starkly and yet so deeply expressed (which is one reason that I didn't allow comments - the comments themselves were sometimes wrenching), and so on. They almost all comment on the degree of self-revelation in so many entries, particularly those concerning Jay's and my relationship. Several have told me that my memorial to Jay made them cry. Complete strangers. And yet I continue.

Family and friends are not surprised. They know that I will say whatever I think and feel without censor or censure. My thoughts and emotions are very close to the surface. If they are even the least bit hidden, I drag them out to look at them. Take it or leave it, it's me. It's at least honest.

After what Daughter told me on Thanksgiving Day, I wanted to hide for a while. But that's the whole point of this topic - not hiding. It's the whole point of the journal, actually. Not hiding.

So here it is:

"I want to go home."

After I graduated from college, when I was finally out on my own, I think I may have been a little ... um ... mentally ill. Actually, maybe a little more than a little. I'd be in my kitchen, washing dishes, and I'd hear a voice, someone calling my name. It was so clear I'd turn around, thinking someone was in the hall calling me. Sometimes it was my mother's voice. Sometimes it was a stranger's voice. It was never my own inside-my-head-thinking voice.

The voice called me several times a week, always when I was alone. Sometimes the voice woke me from a sound sleep, calling me. Never anything but my name, and not even my full name, just the first half. The tone wasn't like my mother calling me home, but more like someone tapping me on the shoulder, saying my name to get my attention. It always made me look up, look around. It was so outside me.

Also, every once in a while, while I was doing some household chore, I'd stop, and look out a window, and I'd think to myself, "I want to go home." It was a sad thought. I didn't know why I said it. I didn't know what it meant. I was home. I often said it out loud. I surprised myself when I thought or said it, because I hadn't been thinking it, didn't know why I said it, and with such intense longing.

I had the "calling" voice and the "home" thought through my twenties and until my mid-thirties. The "calling" voice gradually came less often, as the wanting to "go home" increased. By my mid-thirties, I was walking around thinking "I want to go home" almost constantly. Everywhere. All the time. I wanted to go home so badly I sometimes burst into tears, but I couldn't figure out where home was. It certainly had nothing to do with my parents.

By then I was in psychotherapy. I told Dr. K. about how I thought "I want to go home" all the time, and how badly I wanted to go home, and he asked what I thought it meant, and I said I didn't know. He was sure it was not suicide. I wasn't so sure.

At the end of four plus years of therapy, I realized that if I stayed in the marriage to Ex#2, I would die inside. Worse, I could see six-year-old Daughter trying to get his attention, and her failure was making her sad, too. I was finally emotionally strong enough to take care of myself and her. We left him.

"I want to go home" slowed to a trickle almost immediately after leaving him. I haven't thought or heard it in almost twenty years.

Now I am content. I now finally know what I wanted. I know where "home" is.

Home is me.

Because of the way I was brought up, and because the early conditioning was reinforced by some emotional battery in college, I had believed that everything that went wrong was my fault. I thought I didn't matter. That it was up to me to make everyone happy. To be what they wanted me to be, to do what they wanted me to do, to fulfill their definition of me, their expectations. To give what others wanted, no matter what I wanted. Because I didn't matter. I didn't matter. I wasn't important.

Somewhere along the way, I had lost me. I didn't know who I was, or what or how I was. "I" was gone.

I guess that's what Dr. K. meant when he said I had a "poorly integrated personality".

It was only after I left Ex#2, and Daughter was the only person I had to be responsible to and for, that I was finally able to find me. And thanks to Dr. K., I found I liked me. It took a long time to get comfortable with me, to find out that I do matter, and that it's ok to define myself. To be myself. Eventually I liked me. A lot. I'm pretty nice, actually. I wish I had known me when I was younger.

I am valuable. I know who I am, what I am, and what I have to offer. I have faults and failings (one being a tendency toward self-involvement, no surprise, another a resistance to being responsible to anyone else, also no surprise), but they're minor compared to all of the good of the rest of me, and I admit to my faults freely. They are part of the package that is me. I am me, and I like me.

I am finally home. I am at home in myself, and I am content.

The reason I hesitated to post this is that on the way home from Reading yesterday afternoon, as I was driving through the mountains, I thought, "I want to go home." Just once, but it scared me. I think it was because of Daughter's revelation that she had contacted someone from "back then". Someone who knew me before I was me.

It frightened me. The thought, not the contact.

I'm ok now. All I have to do is be me, and everything will be ok.

~~Silk

#451 Pennsylvania

I'm back from Pennsylvania, the land of scrapple and suicide lanes. Nice Thanksgiving dinner at Daughter's fiance Hercules' grandmother Nana's house, where I finally found out the difference between stuffing and dressing.

Daughter and Hercules came up from New Jersey. They're taking a few days to explore areas in Pennsylvania they might consider moving to. Hercules' mother is on an extended visit from California.

Hmmm, lots of things in the first paragraph to explain to non-Pennsylvanians!

Scrapple IS what most people think Spam is but isn't. When Hormel makes a canned ham, they cut the big hunk of meat off the shoulder, and can it. But there's a lot of meat left on, in, and around the shoulder bones. So they trim all the bits of meat off the bones (getting a bit of the soft gristle, too, pure protein), grind it and put it in the Spam can, seal the can, then cook it. Cooking in the can is what causes all the nice jelly around the Spam. Spam is pure ground-up pork shoulder. Nothing else, nothing yucky. I like Spam.

Scrapple, on the other hand, is made from all kinds of scraps. I had a very bad experience more than 50 years ago when I accidentally saw scrapple being made. It involved huge a boiling vat topped with gray foam that parted to reveal an entire pig head, that rolled up like the "NO!" in a Magic Eightball. It had eye holes. Its tongue was hanging out. It looked at me. To this day, the mere smell of scrapple nauseates me. I was offered scrapple for breakfast this morning, and the severed pig head looked at me again.

Suicide lanes seem to be unique to Pennsylvania. I thought they had gotten rid of them, because they do deserve the name. It's a third center lane on a rural two lane highway, to be used only for left turns from either direction (or, unofficially, for passing a slow farm vehicle or Amish carriage). It runs for miles, down the middle of the road. Naturally, some idiots think it's a "go faster" lane created especially for them. So some innocent will pull into the suicide lane to make a left turn, and be clobbered at 60 mph by an idiot who can't get back into the regular lane quick enough. Unless the idiot has already been clobbered by another idiot doing the same thing from the other direction. Oh well. A lot of Pennsylvania is still nearly virgin forest. Maybe this is how the state keeps population growth down.

AOL Journal Land has been full of arguments and discussions the past week or so about stuffing versus dressing. I never knew there was a difference. Nana served both yesterday. The stuffing was the usual bread etc. mixture stuffed into the turkey. The dressing was mashed potatoes with sauteed onions and celery, and a couple slices of white toast cut into small cubes and then sauteed with the veggies, and veggies and bread were then mixed into the potatoes. I liked both. Yummy.

I'm blathering. I'm kind of avoiding a topic I want to note here. For myself.

This past summer I told Daughter one of my biggest secrets, because it affects her, and because she finally came right out and asked. It was finally unavoidably time. I had hoped she would just sit on the information, because it could potentially adversely affect another, who is deeply involved but didn't know it. Or suspected, because of some questions I had to ask about ten years ago, but didn't know for sure. And probably didn't want to know. And really didn't need to know anyway. Maybe.

Yeah. I should have known better. This is, after all, Daughter. She is what she is and has always been. If she were a dog, she'd be a terrier.

Daughter made contact, an anonymous card last June (which she didn't tell me about until now), and a phone call this past week. They discussed the topic. They're exchanging photos. I can't believe it. My past is coming back to haunt me.

She's handling it well. So's he, apparently. I'm a mess.

I don't know how to feel about it. It's been in the back of my head for 30 years, and now here it is right in front. She played a stored cell phone message for me to hear, and the voice on the phone shook me badly. I asked Hercules' aunt for a cigarette, and I took it down to the basement and smoked it. I don't know why, but when my mind is going six directions at once, the only thing that will stop it and put me back on track is nicotine.

She has given me an email address.

She has pointed him to this journal.

Ack!

I wanted to do an entry on "I want to go home". It's all written up - I wrote it last week, when I noticed that I say "I am content" a lot in these journals, even when things are tearing me up. It's such a difference, and I wanted to explore it. I figured I'd put it in sometime when I have no time to write or nothing to say.

But now I hesitate.

And I'm not sure why.

~~Silk

#450 A Story - A Teacher

I scarfed the following joke from the Mensa joke site. Pardon the "shouting" - that's how it was posted.

I WAS SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM FOR MY FIRST APPOINTMENT WITH A NEW DENTIST. I NOTICED HIS DDS DIPLOMA, WHICH BORE HIS FULL NAME. SUDDENLY, I REMEMBERED A TALL, HANDSOME, DARK-HAIRED BOY WITH THE SAME NAME HAD BEEN IN MY HIGH SCHOOL CLASS SOME 40-ODD YEARS AGO. COULD HE BE THE SAME GUY THAT I HAD A SECRET CRUSH ON, WAY BACK THEN?

UPON SEEING HIM, HOWEVER, I QUICKLY DISCARDED ANY SUCH THOUGHT. THIS BALDING,GRAY-HAIRED MAN WITH THE DEEPLY LINED FACE WAS WAY TOO OLD TO HAVE BEEN MY CLASSMATE. HMMM ... OR COULD HE???

AFTER HE EXAMINED MY TEETH, I ASKED HIM IF HE HAD ATTENDED MORGAN PARK HIGH SCHOOL.

"YES. YES, I DID. I'M A MUSTANG," HE GLEAMED WITH PRIDE.

"WHEN DID YOU GRADUATE?" I ASKED.

HE ANSWERED, "IN 1959. WHY DO YOU ASK?"

"YOU WERE IN MY CLASS!" I EXCLAIMED.

HE LOOKED AT ME CLOSELY. THEN, THAT UGLY, OLD, WRINKLED SON-OF-A-BITCH ASKED, ...

"WHAT DID YOU TEACH?"

=====================================

I started teaching math at Gettysburg High School in 1965. I was 20 years old. Many of my students were only 2 or 3 years younger than I, but they didn't know that. In their eyes, I was a "grownup" and they were the kids. I left Gettysburg in 1967, moved to New York, and went to work for The Company.

Some five years later, I was in Gettysburg visiting friends. We were sitting in a bar one evening when a handsome young man sat down next to me and began to "put the move on" me, big time. He tried every pickup line in the book. I had told him I was visiting from New York, and he said "You know, I swear you look familiar. Have we ever met before?"

I smiled, and said, "Yes. You were in my calculus class at Gettysburg High School in 1965-66."

He frowned and said "That's funny. I don't remember you. Where did you sit?"

I answered, "At the big desk at the front of the room."

The look on his face as it dawned on him who I was was priceless. Suddenly, I was the grownup, and he was the kid.

Gotta give him credit, though. Once he got over it, he kept trying.

~~Silk

#449 AOL's Alerts - Tell Me Again?

I have posted the following comment in several AOL journals. It's a point no one else has brought up, and I want as many ex-AOL journalers as possible to think about it. Could it be that AOL is not being truthful? Gee, is that possible?

We have been told that the text in the alerts was shortened (in the same update as gave us the banners) in order to fix the alert delivery problem.

In the past, the alerts were long enough that I was often able to read an entire entry without having to go to the actual journal. Now, I almost always have to go to the journal (which has forced me to cut down on the number of alerts, since I don't have time for that, especially since the banner ads slow load time). However, I notice that the UK journals, which do not have the ads, still provide long alerts. This implies that the shortening of the alerts is connected somehow to the addition of the banners.

One cannot help but wonder if the purpose of shortening the alerts was NOT to fix an alert problem, but to forcefeed the banner ads. !!!!!

Wouldn't it have been more efficient, more effective, and less disruptive to put the ads in the alerts, and leave the alert text long, rather than putting them in the journals?

~~Silk

#448 Margaret Cho's Blog

I've been dipping into Margaret Cho's blog occasionally. The woman is deep. If you haven't been there, go: http://www.margaretcho.net/blog/blog.htm.

This entry, although a bit depressing, Is a good example: http://www.margaretcho.net/blog/notimeforsuicide.htm
or this one, about dieting: http://www.margaretcho.net/blog/fuckitdiet.htm. I just wander around, choosing topics from the list of entries on the right.

I'm still up because I am doing laundry. I am doing laundry because I have no clean underwear. And I have a date tomorrow, so (even though no one will see them) I can't wear the emergency back-up underpants - Jay's old y-fronts. Ouch. (Well, come on! They are amazingly comfortable!)

~~Silk

#447 Is It Time to Panic Yet?

Monday. Eight items on the Immediate To-Do list. I accomplished four. Considering what last week was like, I guess that was pretty good.

I cleared out last week's mail and newspaper backlog, and burned the (non-colored) trash.

I made hotel reservations for Wednesday and Thursday, Thanksgiving in Reading with Daughter's fiance's family. I left a message at a beautiful antiques-furnished "haunted" mansion B&B, but they haven't called me back yet. So I made reservations at a Best Western. I can cancel the Best Western if the mansion comes through, but I sincerely doubt that the B&B will have anything available. The clue - They have a 2-week cancellation policy.

I called Roman to check on how his father is doing. Not good but not worse. Dinner together tomorrow, then I'll attend his class, then we both go home alone so we can get ready for our respective trips Wednesday.

I studied a little of the Excel textbook Roman lent me so I wouldn't look like a complete idiot. A lot of it is intuitive. If I learn the terms and where to click, the rest should follow. Unfortunately, I didn't get very far. I hope I can do more tomorrow.

I haven't the faintest idea what took up the rest of the day.

I didn't get laundry done, or hem the jacket I wanted to wear for Thanksgiving, or move the grandfather clock, or unpack several "short trip" bags cluttering the hall. The first two could be a problem. If I don't do laundry tomorrow, I may have nothing to wear to Reading. Wish me luck.

Oh, by the way, the alarm clock works fine. It rings changes on cathedral bells, and this morning I let it go to see how long it would ring. The bells ring for two hours before they give up. I don't know what happened Saturday morning.

~~Silk

#446 The Wedding

Yesterday was the wedding. The beautiful alabaster-skinned Pixie wed the spit-shined and polished Dark Prince. Everything was beautiful. The sun shone, the hotel did an incredible job with the dinner, the men were handsome and the women were beautiful, and the day ended well for all.

Personally, the day didn't start so well for me. The ceremony was at 11 am. I was so looking forward to it. I was to stop at Roman's on the way, so I would have had to leave the house by a little after 9 am. Friday night I set the alarm for 7 am, and went to sleep.

I was awakened from a deep sleep, in the middle of the night, by the bed phone ringing. I answered sleepily, and it was Roman. He asked "Where are you?"
"Huh?"
"It's 11 am."
"Huh?"
"Saturday. The wedding. It's supposed to be now."
... followed by yelps of sheer panic on my side.

Luckily, I had laid out my clothes the night before, so I managed to get washed, dressed, and out the door in 18 minutes. Thank goodness my hair didn't look too very bad. Brush and run. I had intended to wash it because I had been burning more paper the night before, but nobody complained .... (I worried about Roman, because he kisses the top of my head a lot.) Yes, I did check the alarm clock. It was set, and the time was correct. Either it went off and I didn't hear it, or it never went off.

Don't tell anyone, but I hit 70 mph on Route 9G. That road is deserted on Saturdays.

We missed the ceremony, of course. I'll have to beg Pixie to let me see the video. Everyone said it was very special. I'm absolutely sick we missed it. But we made it in time for cocktails and the reception at the hotel. And Roman finally got to see the Gypsy dance - she lived up to reviews. The Pixie had taken good care of us - we were at a table with some people I had met before (although that was at a fantasy gathering, and so everyone had been in costume and under assumed names then - which statement, that we had met under assumed names, puzzled Roman for a half a minute). And I didn't have to apologize to Roman - suits and ties were the uniform.

I had taken advantage of the wedding group discount and reserved a double at the hotel for Saturday night, for just in case. What the heck, why not, we could cancel anytime up to 6 pm without penalty. (Maybe I should have got the room for the night before!) But after one large Southern Comfort on the rocks, a glass of champagne, and a glass of wine (the last inch of which I spilled), keeping the room was a good idea. I was giggling a lot.

When I had met with Roman earlier and switched to his car, I said that I had tried to call him on the road and have him meet me in the hotel lobby, but I had somehow forgotten the cell phone. He said oh, no, he was counting on my cell because his mother had called earlier, and his father was not doing well. His sister was headed out to check on them, and he wanted to call them at about 2 to see what his sister had to say. We ended up borrowing The Gypsy's cell (thank you very much, Gypsy!). His sister said she didn't notice anything untoward, but Roman, knowing that his mother is in a better position to judge, worried all day anyway. He called again later from the hotel room. He's going to worry until he can see for himself, I think. (I suspect I should be grateful that he didn't cancel on me and head for Long Island. I'm sure that was his first impulse.)

So, all in all, a good past 33 hours. I think Roman enjoyed himself, too, even with his worry. The DJ played mostly music from OUR high school years, and we sang along and even danced a little (it was mostly fast, and I don't do fast, but the few slows were nice.) We fit well for dancing, too.

Damn. I'm still having trouble accepting that we missed the ceremony. Well, I'll just have to sit back and smile on the marriage. That's the important part, and it lasts longer.

~~Silk