#541 Bits & Pieces

Tuesday 01/24/06

Tattoo Photos - Margaret Cho. She's finally done. Snake coiled around her middle, with peonies.

Stock Sale
Strength machines this morning, followed by lunch with Piper. I told him I sold a mess of Exxon Mobile yesterday as he had recommended (not without a lot of stomach clinches, scary scary), and he said the Exxon had jumped and I'm getting a better price than they had figured, so I'd better sell some IBM now to offset the Exxon and lower the capital gains tax. He thinks maybe IBM might rise a bit soon, and I'll want to sell it while it's low to take the loss.

Which I don't understand. Let's say the capital gains tax is 30%. So for every dollar loss on the IBM that I can deduct from the Exxon profits, I save $.30 on taxes. I get that. But let's pretend the IBM rises, and I don't get as big a loss on it. Let's say it goes up a dollar (but is still a loss, just a smaller loss). Doesn't that mean that I maybe don't save the $.30 tax I will have to pay on each dollar of the Exxon profits, but in total cash I'm still $.70 ahead for each of those dollars? Duh? What am I thinking wrong? I'm gonna have to drop in on him again tomorrow, I think. I think it might have to do with jumping brackets, maybe. He and Angel figured it pretty close.

But still, $.70? I don't think the bracket jump is that wide.

Wanted - An Intimate Friend
I found this in an old newspaper in the basement: "But oh, the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearless on any subject, with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away." From A Life for a Life, 1866, Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.

I want a one o' them. Maybe that's part of the purpose of this journal, to satisfy my need for someone I can talk to without having to keep the governor on the motor. Plus, if folks won't be kind enough to blow away the chaff, I can recant in here a day or two later, and it's right there together, so they can't claim they never heard it.

Mensa World Gathering
I registered yesterday for the Mensa World Gathering in Orlando in August. The gathering is seven days, but I reserved a room at the hotel (Disney's Coronado Springs Resort, near the Animal Kingdom) for ten days, thinking maybe I'll also "do" Disney after the gathering, and visit my siblings. I'm excited. The program is seven months from completion, but look at what they've got scheduled already: https://secure.us.mensa.org/members/wg06_proginfo.php
I have to decide whether I want to fly down, or drive. If I drive, it'll be cheaper, and I'll have my own vehicle for visiting, and I can play tourist on the way home, maybe visit some friends in GA and NC. But driving alone, it will probably take me a minimum of two days each way. Miss Thunderfoot won't speak to me when I get home. Gotta think about it.

Online Dating Update
My profile is still up on the online dating site. It's been viewed 118 times. That doesn't mean it turned up in searches 118 times, it means that 118 different people actually clicked on the thumbnail and went to look at the details. And if the viewer is also registered, I can go look at who looked at me.

What a mix! Why on earth would a 35-year-old hottie, who says he's looking for women 25-38, click on the photo of a 61-year-old woman? Doesn't he have anything better to look at? Almost 1/3 of the men who have checked out my profile are under 50, and looking for women their age. So I'm surprised to find them checking out me. Idle curiosity? If they got ME in their search, then they must have got a bazillion others. Shall I be flattered? Or should I be worried.

I have noticed that often when a man says he's looking for a woman about his age or a little younger, he has provided a photo. When he says he's looking for women in a VERY broad age range, he provides no photo. Makes ya wonder....

I've gotten ten or twelve expressions of interest, most from reasonable sounding guys, but almost all have been from too far away. I'm not interested in anything long distance. Even 50 miles is too far. I want somebody nearby that I can talk with and ram around with. I'm not desperate to find someone, anyone, somewhere, anywhere, who is anxious to get married. So I just reply with the distance problem. The few local guys who winked or sent email just didn't interest me, or, like the lawyer, started to smell funny.

Not a Joke
From a radio call-in show. If it were a joke, it would be a bad one, but it made me laugh.

DARYL'S DRIVETIME, VIRGIN RADIO
Daryl Denham: In which country would you spend shekels?
Contestant: Holland?
Daryl Denham: Try the next letter of the alphabet.
Contestant: Iceland? Ireland?
Daryl Denham (helpfully): It's a bad line. Did you say
Israel?
Contestant: No.

#540 But...?

Roman called shortly after I finished the previous entry. He said something that startled me. There's so much backstory he hasn't told me. Gotta think about it for a while.

Then I went out to clear the driveway. It took two hours, because it was very wet and heavy, and when I was about halfway through it started drizzling, which made it harder. But I got it done. So freezing rain tonight won't hurt.

While I was walking up and down behind the machine, I got to thinking about "I love you, but ...." There are a lot of secondary clauses you can tack onto the end of that sentence, like "I love you, but I have to go to work." Or "I love you, but you've GOT to do something about your hair!" The first clause is a statement, and the second clause is also a statement, and rather than the second modifying the first, the first modifies the second. The first is strong. In almost all of the examples I could think of, they didn't have both the same subject (I) and object (you). The second clause veered. The two are not strongly related.

When the second clause is meant to modify the first, having the same subject and object, like "I love you, but I ... you", put almost anything in there, the second lessens the first, and usually negates the first. Negates because there should be no "but"s in love when the listener is expecting the romantic variety of the word. If you've got a "but" modifier in there, you aren't there yet. And it's unlikely you will ever get there.

"And"s are much nicer.

Off to shower. I'd still like to make it to the exercise machines today if I can.

#539 What I Would Say to Her

Monday, 01/23/06

I got up early this morning to go to the spa and work on the machines, and found snow in the driveway. It's already above the floor of the van and still falling, so I guess I'm not going anywhere until it stops and I can clear it.

I got email from Roman last night, about 1:30 am. He has recanted on my sending flowers, says he "doesn't know why" he told me not to. I'm beginning to wonder if he might have some kind of split personality thing going. He so often says or does something, then later he's completely different. Even his face changes. I've often said to him "Is this you, or your twin brother?" Either that or he's reading this journal after he told me he doesn't. I really don't think he is. I don't know. I don't care about that any more. I had offered it to him as a way to "get to know the real me", but he wasn't interested. (Actually, what he said was "Why read it - you always tell me everything that's in it anyway.") If he's reading it now, it's not to know me, but to find out if I'm thinking of retaliation.

I want to stop writing about him and thinking about him, but he's still such a presence. It's just poke, poke, poke. I want some kind of resolution. He's so afraid I will contact "her" and tell her what's been going on. If he thinks that, he doesn't know me at all. I am very tempted to contact her, but not to destroy him. What I would say to her is:

Roman loves you very much.
He's very unhappy.
You have it within your power to make him happy.
He wants to be completely accepted into your life, but you are holding him off.
You are torturing him.
You have him in limbo.
If you love him completely, accept his offer.
If you don't love him completely, turn him loose.
But don't keep him dangling like this.
It's not fair to him.

I could do it. I know where to find her if I want to talk to her. I could write her a note. I could call her. But I probably won't. Not for a while, anyway. Not until after my feelings have changed. I reserve the right to change my mind. But mostly probably I won't.

Why?

Because there's three ways it can go. She accepts him fully, she turns him loose, or he eventually realizes she doesn't love him enough (which is my opinion, I think she likes him and finds him convenient, but not more than that) and he gives up on her.

If she accepts him fully, and they move in together and live happily ever after, I can handle that. I keep telling him all I want is for him to be happy, and that is absolutely true. I would be quite content with that result.

If she turns him loose, and if he then turns to me, I would have to reject him. Under those conditions I'd never be anything to him but second choice, and for my own health I can't allow him to do that to me. And that will tear me up.

If he eventually realizes that he can't get what he needs from her, and leaves her of his own accord, then I might consider starting over if he turns to me. Might. I don't know. I need honesty and openness, and I don't know if he's capable of learning that. He seems to me now to be naturally manipulative and duplicious. I don't think he even knows when he's doing it. Sometimes it's like the better part of himself (and there is a lot of "better part" to him) catches himself doing it and backs up, and that's when I see "the twin".

So anyway, there's nothing in it for me in contacting her, since if there was any result at all from what I'd have to say, it would be the first or second, and the second is just too painful for me to contemplate right now. Maybe it would be easier a long time from now, after I've moved on, but not now, not so soon.

So, Roman, if you're reading this, your secret is safe. Always was.

#538 Comments, and Dreams

Sunday 01/22/06

I got a comment from Patrick, of Patrick's Place, on entry #522, telling me how to find the missing comments. (Wow! Patrick visited my journal? Even if it was just that entry, I'm flattered!) I did as he said, and I found all the lost comments, including the one on #509 from Little Red (thank you for your sympathy), some spam comments, and I few I need to respond to via email. So thank you, Patrick.

There was also a "lost" comment from Gabreael of Gabreael's Mind, Body, & Spirit on entry #518 Scary Dream, wherein she points out that a house usually represents us or our family situation.

Yeah, I knew that. But I've also found that sometimes, where dream interpretation is concerned, you know darn well what it's all about, it should be clear as day, but things will still obstinately hide from you for a while.

When I was waiting for the oil change the other day, there was a young man in the waiting room who was on the cell phone constantly. He was speaking Russian in all the calls he made. I was even able to understand a few things he said from having heard some of the older folks, back when I lived on the mountain in high school. And as I sat there, I realized that the man in the dream in entry #518 was speaking Russian.

I should have recognized it right away in the dream, but I guess I hid it.

Roman had told me his people were from Russia.

The man who was trying to get into my house was smallish and thin and dirty. Roman is not tall, but he's a bit stocky, and he smells good even after getting sweaty and not having had a shower in 36 hours (sigh...). So I think the dream man was not so much Roman himself as the situation we're in - me (small), him (Russian), her (thin), the triangle (disheveled and dirty).

Ever since he had confessed his duplicity in early November, I haven't like the way I'd been feeling. I didn't like the thoughts I had or the way I was acting. I'd never really had any experience with jealousy before, and I didn't know how to handle it. By that first week in January I was beginning to not like me. I was losing respect for myself.

For me, if you know anything about my background or history, losing love or respect for myself is not a momentary problem or a trivial thing, something I can get back easily. There was a period in my life when I had no self respect, when I was sure that there was something horribly wrong with me, that everything that went wrong anywhere around me was obviously my fault, that I was unloveable, and I deserved nothing. It took me a long time, several years of therapy and hard work, to learn that I am not a bad person, that I am important, that it is possible to love me, and that I do deserve love.

I had that dream Sunday night/Monday morning, before the Monday night I last stayed over with him.

That Monday and Tuesday I was with him, several hurtful things happened, and as usual I stood there and took it. Then Tuesday afternoon I had a flashback to a very nasty time of my life, and then and there I realized that if he didn't love and respect me enough to protect me from these hurts, then it was up to me to love and respect and protect me.

That evening as soon as I got home I wrote the email to him suggesting a backing-off, and the next evening he suggested "the break", and I was fine with that. (Well, not fine, but accepting that this is what has to be. Otherwise the me I know and love dies.)

It took me until Tuesday to get to that point, but the dream shows I was already aware that the situation was trying to break into me and harm me, and that I was going to have to do something. The weird thing is, why bother with the dream? I did consciously already know.

#537 Weight Update

Pretty much holding steady this past week. I guess last week's Funny Cide ice cream and this week's Third Thurday dinner have taken effect. Funniest thing - my underpants are getting baggy in the seat, and the crotch is kinda drooping. And yet, when I look in the mirror, I still see no difference. Maybe there is a little anorexia going on. Distorted body image and all that.

#536 Impotent Anger

Saturday, 4:00 pm..

More wind. PC keeps bouncing. Odd, because usually it's the microwave that's most sensitive. This time it's the PC that goes down, and the microwave clock is still ok.

I took stuff to the recycle center this morning, and I was carrying a load of cut-up cardboard when a gust of wind came up especially strongly, and literally blew me over. I'm afraid to try to get those panes of glass out of the van.

I hate wind.

I have done absolutely nothing today. I spent most of the morning and early afternoon writing an angry email to Roman, and now I don't want to send it. Cooling off period. I might still hand it to him next time I see him. We have GOT to sit down and get this over with. We are not going to be able to avoid each other, so we have to set some ground rules.

I'm just not sure what they should be.

#534 Strength Training!

I went to the Mensa dinner last night. There were eight of us, and it was a good group. After dinner, four of us went to the gilded Otter in New Paltz to play in some kind of national trivia thingy - I don't know what it's officially called, but there is a screen, and multiple choice questions, and you choose your answers on a keypad. I didn't do so well because I have trouble translating from my brain to my fingers, and I kept forgetting that I could change my answers. Next time...! There's a Mensa group that competes as a team in a particular bar in NYC, and they are always in the top several nationally, so we are toying with the idea of a field trip down there to meet them. Just that Thursdays could be difficult for those who have to go to work the next day.

When we left the restaurant to go to New Paltz, one of the guys asked if I wanted to ride with him, and he'd bring me back to my car afterwards. Stupid me, I said no, it's easiest for me to go home up the thruway from New Paltz. He's 45ish and and it's highly unlikely there was anything else in mind, but conversation and getting to know him better would have been nice. I need a few more male friends - male viewpoints and so on.

This morning I checked out the spa in the village. It's not like a gym - they have no treadmills (and no males, thank you) - what they have is a series of machines, each geared to work on a separate set of muscles, and you move from station to station at a set rate, to a music tape. I got a free week's trial. So I went this morning, just to see if I could do it. It was ok. I plan to go every morning for the week and see how it goes.

I was surprised to find that my left arm is a lot weaker than my right. My left leg is also weaker than the right, but that's the hip that gives me the most trouble, so that didn't surprise me.

Then I ran a bunch of errands. I got a new burn permit, picked up some new tapes for the phone machine (the 8-year old tape is getting stretched), bought and mailed some postcards for the son of a friend of a friend who is in some kind of postcard competition, bought some furnace filters, got the van a checkup and the oil changed, went to the grocery store, and some other stuff I can't remember right off. It was like 55 degrees with no wind, so it was nice to be out.

I got home around two, and found a half-hour old message on the tape from Roman. His mother is progressing, not as quickly as they had hoped, but he's satisfied that she's looking and sounding better. He said in his message he'd call again later today, and hoped I'd be in. He confuses me. I don't understand. I guess this is also strength training.

Later edit - He did call again in the evening. I was surprised that he did. I told him about dinner last night. He said he really wanted to attend, but the aide who was supposed to come to care for his father never showed up, so he was unable to leave. I was surprised to hear that he wanted to attend, since he would have had to return either that night or the next morning. That's a long round-trip drive just for dinner in a mediocre restaurant. He confuses me. I don't understand.

The town has a new bee in their bonnets - they plan to impose a 2% tax on all home sales in the town, on the amounts over the median sale price for homes in the county. The county median is $380,000 (ouch! That's twice what it was before 9/11.). The money would then be used to purchase the development rights on farmland in the town.

Quick tutorial for those not familiar with New York local governments: Municipalities are hamlets, villages, and cities. A "town" is like a sub-division of a county, and may include multiple hamlets, villages, and cities. The town board handles things like zoning, snowplowing, garbage collection, fire fighting, and such outside the individual municipalities (which usually, around here, means the rural areas). For example, I used to live just outside the village of Highland, in the town of Lloyd, in the county of Ulster. My address, however, was Highland.

Since 9/11/01, folks have been spreading up and out from NYC, driving up housing prices as they go. In the past few years, many have actually moved all the way up here (a 2.5 hour commute to Manhattan!). They buy here because they love the rural aspects - the vineyards, orchards, horses, and farms - and they seem determined to keep it that way. There isn't a single fast food joint within 13 miles of the village on this side of the river, and no place to buy a pair of stockings. (Woe to you if you get hungry after 9 pm and there's nothing at home. There's nothing open.) The original residents wouldn't mind a few conveniences, but pretty soon it won't matter to them, because they can't afford to live here any longer. The traffic in the village is getting horrible. It's near impossible to turn left during the day anymore, and because the village doesn't have real "blocks", or even cross streets, it's not like you can make three rights to make a left. It's all very strange. Well, just another thing I don't understand.

Oh, I found out at the exercise place why I haven't seen girl scout cookies in ages - the girls aren't allowed to sell door-to-door any more. Sheesh!

#533 Realization

AOL (and the whole machine, for that matter) was so very healthy last night, I don't understand why I got the "full connection cannot be established" message again this morning. Bleck. Something's slightly off.

The van finally got its alignment this morning, and I picked up the new glass for the CD cabinet doors (both original pieces were broken in shipment, which I didn't find out until Monday evening, when I went to install the glass), so at least some things are progressing.

Mensa dinner this evening. It's going to be the last dinner for one of our members who is moving away, so there should be a lot of people there.

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

The realization.

I have finally faced the reason why I was so depressed for so long (four years) after Jay died.

I think I accidentally killed him.

I cared for him alone, and I did it so well the visiting nurses were impressed. I turned him and packed pillows around him, so he never got any bed sores, not even on his heels, which impressed the nurses. I exercised his arms and legs, and worked his hands and feet, so he never completely wasted, and his tendons didn't shorten. I kept track of the pressure in his brain (which could be sensed through the reservoir implant in his skull) and adjusted his steroids accordingly. I gave him eight different medications on eight different schedules, requiring different food timings. I gave him injections of anti-clotting meds every day. I washed his lower body several times a day and changed and laundered linens usually several times a day. A nurse came once a week to monitor him and take blood for Dilantin levels, and an aide came twice a week for an hour or two to wash his hair and beard, and to allow me to run errands. I spoon-fed him, and held his sippy cups, and monitored his solid and fluid intake, adjusting for bouts of violent nausea. I washed the walls when we had projectile vomiting.

I learned how to use the Hoyer lift to get him from the bed to the wheelchair and back. I learned the fireman's lift to get him off the floor when he tried to get out of the bed or chair and fell.

When he had a bad case of candida albicans at both ends and the medicine the doctor prescribed made him throw up (and throwing up was very serious because it screwed up his meds and could cause an avalanche effect), I researched the subject and found gentian violet, and it worked, and the nurses were amazed. I never left the bedroom for more than ten minutes, since that was the limit of his memory and he got frightened if he didn't know where I was. I read to him for hours at a time. I reassured him during delusions and frightening hallucinations.

But mostly, I just loved him.

The immunotherapy he'd had seemed to be working. The tumor seemed to have stopped growing. But because it was so experimental, they had accepted only candidates who had failed all other therapy and were in pretty bad shape to begin with. It was I who discovered the major flaw in the therapy - the sensitized white blood cells attacked nerve linings as well as the tumor, and essentially gave the patients multiple sclerosis. That's what had blinded Jay.

So, with the reevaluation of the clinical trial and his own weakness, he was no longer getting the immunotherapy, but the tumor had stopped growing. With excellent care, he probably could have lived longer. He was weak, blind, paralyzed on one side, with hallucinations and delusions, and no short term memory - but he never gave up his plan to beat the tumor and return to full function.

What happened?

I screwed up.

When you lie for months with little activity, and especially when the brain is no longer talking to one half of your body, certain physical functions no longer work as well as normal. I kept him full of psycillium to keep things soft and moving, and mostly it worked, but every so often there were rocks that wouldn't go that last inch or two. Then it was necessary to take things into one's own hands, literally. It was the only way. (Lest any nurses out there worry about the "spinal feedback" problem, remember his paralysis was due to a brain malfunction, not a spinal injury, so it was ok. He couldn't have a water enema because that would increase intracranial pressure, and oil didn't do anything, since it didn't soften things and the problem was mainly due to a lack of muscle pressure.)

I had done it many times. Once, when he was staying at a nursing facility in Staten Island while he was getting treatment at a nearby hospital, I had just arrived home from spending the day with him when he called from his room and begged me to come back (a 2+ hour drive), and "fix it". I got there at midnight and sneaked in when the nursing shift changed, and went to his room. When the nurses found out what I intended to do, they had a fit (they were hung up on the spinal feedback thing), then I found out that the records showed he hadn't had a bowel movement for ten days while under their care, so I told them they could either call the cops and have me dragged out, in which case I would tell the world about the ten days, or they could turn around and walk away. Then I simply closed the door and did it.

So anyway, this day at home, I did the thing. Usually it was possible to squish the rock, or split it in two, or if it was small just wiggle it out. But this time there was a particularly large and very hard rock. It wouldn't split, and it wouldn't squish. No amount of lubricant helped. I think I tried too hard. When it finally did appear, there were blood traces on it.

When the visiting nurse came the next day, I told her, and she said no big deal. The day after that, his kidneys quit, and then he became sluggish and feverish, and then it got really serious. We moved him to a hospice room in the local hospital. I moved in, too. Every three days someone would relieve me for an hour while I ran home to shower and feed the cat.

Seven days later he died in my arms.

It was always so ironic to me that it wasn't the tumor that killed him - not directly - it was a massive systemic infection that caused all his organs to shut down, one by one. Because he was under hospice care, no one did a culture to identify the infectious agent.

I think it was always in the back of my mind where he got that infection. I never allowed it to move to the front. It was only this week that the thought took shape consciously. But it explains why I was so very depressed for so very long.

I think I screwed up.

A small tear in the tissues probably would not have been a problem (his immune system was not depressed, even after all the chemo, probably because of the treatments during the immunotherapy), but I'll bet it wasn't a bacteria that got in.

I'll bet it was the candida albicans that got him. His alimentary canal was full of it. And I opened a door to let it in the rest of the way.

Having brought it up front, I think I can finally let it go. I did a good job. I tried. I made a tragic mistake. But maybe it was meant to happen, because there really wasn't any other possible outcome. It was an accident on my part, but maybe in the greater plan, it wasn't an accident.

#532 Everything Is Fixed!

I ran the special removal utility from Symantec, and now everything is not only working, the whole system is faster!

Of course, there was a hitch - you had to know what level of Norton Antivirus you STARTED with, because you had to uninstall them in order, from the bottom up. Duh? Jay first installed it, and I didn't have the faintest idea what he'd started with. So I just picked the one at the bottom of the list, and worked my way up. With a restart after every one. I guess it worked.

Now I'll have to run a McAfee scan to make sure that still works.

#531 AOL Is Broken Again

I noticed when I brought up the new AOL that McAfee virus scanner is included free. You have to uninstall any other virus programs first, though. I currently have Norton, but when I tried to renew my subscription, they insisted I had to get the current level, and it wouldn't download, so I've been stuck for a few months with no virus updates, while I decided whether to pursue Norton or not.

AOL said not to try to remove Norton using the Windows uninstall procedure, but to use a special exec on the Symantec site. So I went to the Symantec site, and THEY said not to use the exec until after you've tried Windows uninstall and it fails. So ... I tried Windows, and it said it was successful. Now what?

So, ok, I restart the system and ... SLOW!!! The cursor was a dead mouse lying there. On the phone with Daughter at the time, and she says McAfee is probably running a preliminary scan. Go have a cup of tea. Given the age of your hardware, have several cups of tea.

Several cups of tea later, things are a little better, so I go into McAfee options, and turn off EVERYTHING. I'll tell you when I want you to scan and what, thank you.

Then I brought up Netscape and went to Yahoo. Looking fine. A little slow, but not bad.

Next I tried to start AOL. V-e-r-r-r-r-y s-l-o-o-o-w. I mean, we're talking 10 minutes to get the signon screen. Plus I get an error message: "A full connection to the AOL service cannot be established. Browsing and other features may not work correctly... blah blah...." AOL finally came up and I was able to read and send email (which requires a connection to the internet, right?) but I couldn't do anything else that required a connection, including getting to AOL's own Help pages. One would think if AOL is offering McAfee, McAfee at least wouldn't break AOL, huh?

Ya gotta give me optomism credit - I tried it twice. Same result.

Back when I read about McAfee on AOL, there was all kinds of "what do I do if" advice. Guess what? When "a full connection cannot be established", you can't get to that advice!

So, the next step is to go back to Symantec and download and run that special uninstall exec. If you don't hear from me for a few days, I'm trying to breathe life into dead mice.

#530 AOL Is Fixed, I Guess....

He called this morning, late morning. The surgery had been delayed until afternoon Monday, and she is in the ICU, progressing, but they don't know how long she'll be there. (I had pretty much the same surgery a few years ago, and the very same afternoon I was trotting around the halls. So ICU is not good, but, she's progressing, they say.)

It was not a good conversation. I don't know why. But it helped to firm my resolve. For example, I offered to send flowers. He said not to. Why not, I asked. Because his mother doesn't know me and he doesn't want to have to explain me. Ouch! Did I just get put in my place? Wham! Why not just slap me. (Will his mother not believe he has a few good friends?)

He told me to go to the AOL website, and I should be able to download the code. I did that. The estimate was six hours, but it took only two, and now I've got everything back. I've done that before, but about every other time I've downloaded AOL, they lost all my old mail folders. I was worried about that, but had no choice. I don't seem to have lost anything this time.

So, back on an even keel.

I talked with the Hairless Hunk today, and we're going to burn the brush pile as soon as there's no precipitation for a day or two.

Tonight we're getting hail, sleet, and freezing rain. Roman is supposed to drive back from LI tonight, he has to teach a class tomorrow morning and then return to LI, so I hope to hell the other woman has the sense to call him and warn him about the weather. In the hospital all afternoon, he may not know. Me, I don't have any phone numbers. We wouldn't want to have to explain my calls, I guess. I was surprised when I asked his mother's first name and the hospital she was in, and he actually told me. He confuses me.

To tell the truth, I DO have his parents' home number. He used my cell phone to call them from class a few times in November when his father was ill, and I just found out today, while trying to pay the cell phone bill online, that in my account I can look at all the numbers for all the calls on my phone for the past six months. But since he has been so careful NOT to give the number to me, I'll be damned if I'll use it. Buck you, Fuddy!

#529 Fussing and Fuming

A line from #526, Sunday evening: "He'll call or email me tomorrow night late to tell me how it went."

He didn't.

I couldn't sleep, and was up until 4 am waiting for the phone to ring, checking email every so often. I don't know whether to be worried or angry. If the surgery was postponed again, or if everything went well, it may be that stupid male attitude that "there's nothing to report, so why report it", in which case I am very annoyed with him. But it's also possible he spent the afternoon and night sitting in a chair in an ICU. Or worse, that he's alerting family and making funeral arrangements (the Jewish 24-hour thing), in which case contacting me would be rock bottom on his priority list.

I have never met her and likely never will. She's an abstraction to me, and not a very clear one since he has spoken of her only in the context of someone he visits. But she's his mother, and since he is important to me, she is important. I can send positive thoughts her way, but my worry is for him.

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

AOL, where I get my email, was fine when I logged out and shut the system down last night. This morning, when I tried to start AOL (I tried twice), I got an error message saying that AOL could not be started, and that I should reinstall from the AOL disk. What disk? I haven't the faintest idea where it might be. This is serious!

It's definitely the code on my system that's messed up (although it could have been messed up by an automatic AOL update download last night). I can still get to my email by going to www.aol.com through Netscape, but I can't store or retrieve anything in AOL folders on my system.

I don't know what to do about it.

#528 Rubber Soul

The Beatles' Rubber Soul album is playing now (the original version without "Drive My Car"). Several years ago I had transferred it from vinyl to CD, and I just rediscovered it lost in the back of the cabinet. The song "Norwegian Wood" reminded me of Warren. One of my great regrets and failures. For some reason, that song fascinated him. He kept trying to analyze it.

I met him when I lived in Gettysburg. I was married to Ex#1 then, Ex#1 who was off in Germany and then Seattle, living with other women, and, oh yeah, serving his country. Warren was also Army, and was stationed just up the road. He was a sad case. He needed a Mommy. I had just lost a baby and needed something to mother. Ironically, he was from Tacoma. He was tallish and thinish and cutish with a very sharp and strange and fascinating mind. He had a serious drinking problem. The only places to go off the base were bars, so I didn't mind that he and two of his friends from the base spent a lot of time in my apartment, just playing cards and watching TV and generally hanging out.

I don't remember the name of one of the friends, but the other was Jim. Jim was one of those Mid-western farm boys, soft and gentle and polite, a reader and philosopher. The other two, no-name and Warren, used to alarm me by discussing the best ways to commit suicide. I always thought they were kidding, until one day the three of them announced that they had all put in for transfers. Warren and no-name had actually requested Viet Nam. This was 1967. Suicide. Jim had requested Germany. Their transfers went through. Warren and no-name went to Germany. Jim went to Viet Nam.

Warren and Jim wrote to me, and I wrote to them - at least one letter a week, often more. Jim's letters revealed a crush on me, which I tried to gently discourage. Then one day Jim's letters stopped, and I assumed he'd finally found himself a girl.

Warren kept up the correspondence until he got out of the army. By then I was divorced from Ex#1. He came directly to me, did not go home to Tacoma and his anxious parents. He applied for a job with the company I was working for, and a few others in the area, but he had not finished his degree (and the market was bad in this area, anyway) and nobody was hiring. I suggested that he go home, visit his parents, and look into finishing college.

He stayed with me for about two months, and yeah, we did get "involved", but remember this was 1968, tie-dyed t-shirts, free love, pre-AIDS, the original Woodstock was just around the corner, we attended a Jimi Hendrix concert at the local Armory in a small intimate room. (All concerts then were small and intimate - no arenas or stadiums.) It was a different and special time. Maybe it wasn't THE "summer of love", but back then, they all were.

So finally, he went to Tacoma to figure out what he wanted to do next. I got a few letters and calls from him, and then didn't hear from him for a while. So one day I called his parents, just to find out what he was up to. The reaction I got from his mother was unexpected. She seemed to think that he and I were engaged, that there was a great and torrid love affair. She seemed to think that I had broken it off.

She said they were very worried about him, that he was drinking heavily again, that he was disappearing for days at a time, and that I was the only person who could save him. She wanted me to write him a letter telling him I loved him, asking him to get it together and to stop drinking, for me. She practically begged me. She said she would have called me sooner, but she didn't have my number or address. I said, uh, ok, and hung up without giving her my number.

I never wrote the letter. Never called again. Never heard from him again. I can't find any mention of him on the internet. I still wonder what happened to him. He had a brilliant mind. I liked him, but I didn't love him, and I couldn't pretend I did. I didn't want to deal with his drinking. I stepped back, away from him. I still feel guilty about that.

In 1983, I visited The Wall in Washington, DC. At that time, I knew only one person who had actually gone to Viet Nam. Everybody I knew, my circle, had gotten deferments. So I looked for that one name, Jim.

He was there, on the wall.

He had been sitting on a riverbank writing letters when he was hit, only a few days after his last letter to me. He died of his injuries a few years later, during the summer of love.

#527 Writing Life

I woke suddenly, straight up in bed, at 8:15 this morning, for me a very early hour. It would be interesting to know when Roman's mother went in for surgery.

I forgot today is a holiday, so most of my to do list is undoable. I've got to buy a new tape for the phone, look into that exercise place, sell a few thousand shares of Exxon (my stomach clenches just thinking that) and IBM (good riddance), get the van's oil changed, deposit some checks, pay some bills, and write some letters. I can do only the last two today, so I guess I'll fill in with some basement clearing.

I went to the gas station for raspberry iced tea this morning, and bantered with Tall Dark & Handsome II. He was teasing me that he couldn't give me my change, and I said that would be fine, we could do credit, I'd use up credit in a few days anyway. He said credit was no good because if he dropped dead tonight, no one else would give it to me. I said put it in writing, "writing survives death. Remember that. In fact, write your autobiography tonight."

It came off the top of my head, but it is true. Writing survives death, and change. You read now something that you wrote ten years ago, and you are amazed at how much you have grown and changed, how much more you know now than you knew then.

But the only way you can read it ten years from now is to write it now.

When I was in therapy, twenty five years ago, I wrote and wrote and wrote, several composition books full. Afterward, I got a big stapler and stapled the pages together, because I was still too close to that thinking, and it was dangerous for me to read it, but at the same time I didn't want to destroy it. I'm thinking about removing the staples and reading it all again. Wouldn't it be nice to think "Oh, how silly!", to not be able to recognize the person who wrote it.

TD&H II, by the way, did give me my change.

#526 Busy Day

I finished the laundry today, and got those silly satin sheets OFF the bed. The top and bottom sheets went directly into the garbage, but I'll keep the pillowcases. My hair likes them.

While I was remaking the bed, it occurred to me that the bed was the largest clear flat space I had, so I put the new CD cabinet together on it. It went pretty well, looks nice. The directions weren't all that great, but once I figured out which end of each piece was up, it was easy to wing it. Of the 202 pieces provided, I have only 10 screws and 2 dowels left over. I think that's pretty good.

Then I moved all my CDs into it, and rediscovered a few I'd forgotten I had. They're in the player right now.

While I was putting the second door on the CD cabinet the phone rang, and it was Roman calling from his mother's hospital room. It turns out that he had called last night, and left a long message on my tape. As a matter of fact, he'd called as I was writing journal entry #524! I said no, I hadn't heard the phone ring, and the machine said there were no messages.

We talked for a while. (Damn, I like talking with him.) His mother wasn't ready for surgery on Friday, so it is now scheduled for tomorrow morning. He'll call or email me tomorrow night late to tell me how it went.

So then I went to the phone tape to see if there indeed was a message, and, yes, there was!, even though the count still said zero! A very long message. Recorded last night as I sat here typing. It took me only a minute to figure out what had happened.

Wind. Scary wind. Put music on, loud to drown out wind and distract mind.
Electricity bounces. I rerecord outgoing message, reset time and date, etc. on phone, but
forget to reset number of rings before it picks up. Default is two rings.
Sit in den, at computer, other end of house from kitchen phone.
Den phone doesn't have a ringer.
Bed phone, across the hall, has slipped (darn satin sheets!) under a pillow.
I am writing the journal entry - the one that complains that he didn't call.
He calls, I don't hear the two rings from kitchen phone or closer bed phone over loud music.
His voice blends into music.
He finishes message, machine now says one message.
Electricity bounces again.
Phone now says zero messages.
I reset phone and clocks and go to bed worried and annoyed because he hadn't called.
Sigh.

You know, I'm getting more attention from him now while we're "on a break" than I did even back in the beginning when things were so good.

I don't understand.

#525 Weight

Update on my weight loss.

I've lost almost 30 pounds since the high of late July and August. I know it's a real loss, not just a broken scale, because I am able to get into clothes I haven't been able to wear for a year or more. And also because my skin is getting too big for me. My neck is getting nasty droopy.

The frustrating part is that I still have exactly the same shape! Just a little smaller all around. I've still got the pot belly (may I remind everyone that there's a real sixpack under there - I am well muscled under the padding) and the thunderthighs. When I am standing, I don't look half bad. But when I sit down, the thighs spread and the "famine relief pack" sticks out, and I look the same as before. It's very discouraging.

The thigh spread is the worst because at 4'10" tall, my thigh bones are very short, so sitting makes me look a lot like my favorite amphibian.

I haven't been able to walk as much as I need to because of the cold wet weather, so lately I've had to accomplish the loss through calorie reduction. I'm afraid I may be tipping over into anorexia (without the distorted body image - yet - but I can see where that could easily happen). When I don't go out for lunch or dinner, my average daily intake consists of 6 ounces of Dannon coffee yogurt, and either a stalk of raw broccoli or a large carrot, and my vitamins and minerals. And that's pretty much it. I doggie bag restaurant food, and one average restaurant meal will last me three or four days.

The night of the computer club meeting, I stopped at Stewarts on the way home and bought a pint of "Funny Cide" ice cream. Normally, I'll make four or five visits to a pint before it's all gone. But that night, I ate it all as soon as I got home. I didn't mean to eat it all, I just kept digging for the caramel, and then it was suddenly all gone. But it hasn't shown up on the scale, so... I guess I got away with it.

There's a small "spa" in the village, with "step" classes and stuff, upstairs over my bank. I think I'll check it out Monday. Treadmill. That would be good. Then I maybe could eat more.

#524 Freakin' Out

It is now a little after 10 pm on Saturday, and I'm annoyed.

First off, it's very windy outside. The kind of windy where you can hear the waahoooorraaahooo of the wind coming up over the mountain and swooping down and over our ridge. One gust comes through and dies out, to be followed immediately by another. I can hear the trees whipping and creaking. Wind like that always keys me up, makes me jumpy. If there's anything bugging me at all, it'll come out in wind.

I've been doing the laundry (finally), and the washing machine has been very uncooperative. The cold water shutoff has totally quit, which means I have to manually turn the cold water on and off at the appropriate moments, or the washer will overflow all over the floor. Which it did twice already this evening.

I realized tonight that the lawyer from the online dating site, who was going to call to set up our meeting sometime during the week, hasn't called. I probably scared him off. Actually, that's alright. I was getting a bit nervous about him anyway. But it's still annoying.

And Roman's mother was supposed to have surgery yesterday morning. I haven't heard from him as to how she is, and I don't know why I haven't heard, and that's worrisome. I left a message on his home phone yesterday evening, and set him an email this morning, and there's nothing more I can do but worry and wonder.

I hate wind.

#523 Explanation & Multiplying Love

I got a heated reaction to entry #519 from someone who thinks I am obsessed with "her". I don't think I am obsessed with the other woman. What is driving me crazy is that I don't know what's going on in his mind. Her presence at the meeting (if it even was her, which I don't know for sure) would seem to indicate that something is off kilter, and it's that that's driving me crazy. Not knowing what's going on, what he's thinking or feeling. And with the family concerns he has at the moment, I'm not going to push for answers from him.
-----------------

Something I came across in the newspaper (and what's going on, of course) got me thinking about "shared" love. Everyone always says that if you have ten children, you love them all equally, just maybe in different ways. That it's not like there's only so much love, and it's diluted by being divided among several. That the capacity for love expands, and is separate and complete for each.

Having had only one child, I have no personal experience with this. But I still have an opinion.

I think it sounds really nice, but I don't think it's true. We want it to be true, but although love might want to expand, time doesn't. Attention might want to, but it can't. So maybe when you are lying in bed at night and you think of each of the children, the love you feel is equal for each. But the actual day-to-day expression of that love will not be. One of the children might need more of you, and you will naturally give more of your time and attention to that child. That matters. Priorities matter. It's not just the abstract feeling that you hold that counts, it's also the expression of it, and I'm sorry, but that just isn't going to be equal.

There has been some concern expressed that since I loved Jay so much, any man who might come after would feel intimidated by his example, jealous of his memory. It's not the same, because, well, he's gone. There will be no division of affection. I am sure that I can love again just as deeply (although differently, because another man will naturally be different.)

I've also been thinking about the dogs in this context, about something that surprised me. Ninja (the Keeshund, the gray and black in the photos) spent his first five months of life in a tiny cage in a pet shop. Consequently, he never learned how to play, and had difficulty accepting and displaying affection. We often had the impression that he merely tolerated us. He had some emotional problems, trust issues, as evidenced by the lick-marks on his right paw in the photo. Baby, on the other hand, the blond mixed-breed, lived with us since she was six weeks old, and she was 40 pounds of pure happiness and love.

Each dog did get separate time from Jay and me. Ninja was obedience-trained, and so he got to go places with us that Baby (with her excess exuberance) couldn't, and he and I spent a lot of time practicing the commands, which he seemed to enjoy. He liked knowing that he was doing something right and being praised for it. He had a problem with his hips (Von Willebrand's Disease, which eventually was fatal), so he could not go on long or difficult walks.

Baby, on the other hand, went with us on hikes. She was very good off the leash. Ninja was hard of hearing, so if he got too far away from us, he couldn't hear us call him back, and not being a "scent" dog, he got lost easily.

I thought we knew both dogs well, and that we loved both dogs equally.

And then one day, Ninja died of a massive internal hemorrhage from the Von Willebrand's.

And we discovered that we hadn't known Baby at all as well as we thought. I guess a lot of her attention and affection had been going to Ninja, and she had been getting validation from him. Now she turned to us, and we discovered that she was a lot more intelligent and interactive than we had thought. The workings of her mind, which we had never noticed before, were fascinating. And I fell madly in love with her. I thought I had loved her before, but I hadn't really known the real her before.

So I can't help but wonder - when there is a passle of kids, especially if they are close in age, can you really know each of them that well? Since a lot of their interaction will be with each other, rather than with you? (Yeah, I know, dogs aren't children, but the social interaction, the satisfying of emotional needs, still applies.)

Now, don't go sending me flaming email that you have five children and you love them each and every one equally to distraction. I'm sure you do. But I'm wondering how well you really know each and every one. If there's one who needs you least, it's possible your knowledge of him or her is superficial. They may surprise you one day.

I don't know how any of this applies to my love life. When a man has two women, I suppose it is theoretically possible to love both equally, but in actual practice I don't think so. One will always be a higher priority than the other. In this case, I know she is a higher priority than I, and I suspect (but knowing nothing about their relationship it is pure conjecture) that it is her physical need for and dependence on him that tips the balance. Sort of like when Ninja got more attention and love from me because he needed it more than Baby did.

Maybe love expands - but time and attention cannot.

#522 Missing Comments

If you left a comment recently, like in the past two weeks, and it never showed up on my journal, please try again.

Comments are sent in an email to my AOL address, where I approve them for posting. Well, big surprise. AOLers are reporting that NO EMAILS FROM BLOGGER are getting through to their AOL mailboxes.

Very strange. The AOL reps are mystified. Nobody can figure out what went wrong. Blogger (the host of this site) is supposedly on the "white list". In AOL, if it comes from somewhere not on the white list, emails get thrown away as spam. You never even see them. Which seems to usually work pretty well, since I get only an average of one or two spam emails a day on AOL.

A lot of AOLers are very suspicious. Especially since several hundred of them pulled their journals off AOL when AOL added advertising on their journals with no warning and no permission, and many of them moved to Blogger, while keeping their AOL email accounts. Me included. Hmmmm.

Other AOLers have said it's been going on for two weeks. I know a week ago I was still getting comment alerts, so last night I tried an anonymous comment, and, no kidding, no notice.

So I changed my Blogger comment notification address from AOL to my id on Yahoo, where I hear they do get through.

If you left a comment recently, like in the past two weeks, and it never showed up on my journal, please try again. I did not ignore or censor you.

#521 Read This!

Ack! Three posts in one day! So hate me!

I almost never touch on the news or politics in this journal. It's a personal journal for a reason. But if I ever did want to say something controversial, this - http://www.livejournal.com/users/triggur/115488.html - is what I'd say. Read the comments, too.

It might make some folks angry, but I do agree fully.

So there.

#520 No Alignment Yet

I did take the van to the local garage early this morning to see if they could do the alignment. They didn't feel that they could get it onto "the machine" (whatever that is) because of the van's dropped floor and 4" clearance, but they do have a special pit that they use for very large heavy trucks. It has adjustable supports (I think that's what Roman was describing when I told him about the problem), but there was a truck on it at the moment, so they couldn't check. But the son took some measurements of the wheel span on the van, and will check this afternoon whether the supports can be adjusted sufficiently to fit the van. They'll call.

Sigh.

#519 Near Collision

Meeting and lunch with Piper yesterday. I like having lunch with him. He really is so nice, and so easy to talk with. He seems to have a unique insight into people, their feelings and motivations. He seems to understand what's going on in relationships so much better than anyone else I know, even my female friends. (I wish there was some chemistry - it would make things so much easier. Or harder. I don't know.)

He asked how things were going with Roman, and I told him. We talked quite a bit about it. He made two major points that I'll have to think about. One, that it takes most men a very long time to make relationship changes, especially from something sure to something unsure. If it's going to happen at all, it most certainly can't be rushed. And two, there's a total cutting off of contact on one side, and a continuation of the current situation on the other side, and there's a very wide range in between, and that somewhere in between is the probably best way to go. I just have to decide how far down the continuum I want to be. He said he can tell how I feel about him by the look in my eyes when I talk about him. That was one thing I didn't want to hear.

Returning to his office in the car, I said something about how all I knew for sure was that there was one thing on that continuum that I was going to have to give up, and I'd hate giving that up because it's so very goooooooood!

He said that was the one thing I could get elsewhere any time I wanted. I said that I don't do casual. He said something like that it isn't casual when it's with friendship and respect. He has told me a few times that his only female relationship now is platonic. I may have misunderstood, but I think that may have been an offer. (Sorry, but I still think that's casual. I don't do casual.)

When I walked into the house after lunch, at about 2:30. the telephone machine was taking a message - Roman's voice. I ran to pick up. He was calling from a parking lot outside a doctor's office. He said that his father had a problem and he'd had to take him to the doctor's, and here it was 2:30 already and he hadn't been to the hospital to see his mother yet, so he was pretty certain that he wouldn't make it back in time for the computer club meeting. We talked about the software that would be offered (a version of Adobe Photo Shop). He had done some research on it, and said that since he and I were both on Windows 98, and the program ran only on XP, we couldn't use it. He made no effort to discourage me from attending the meeting, seemed to assume that I would. This is significant.

I went to the meeting. If I ever want to meet more men in their 60s, this is the place! There were more than 100 of them there. The program had been heavily advertised, and there were many "new" attendees. One guy even chatted me up. Not bad looking, either. And apparently after the meeting some folks regularly go to the Friendly's up the road, so it would be easy to get ... friendlier. I may have to attend more of these meetings.

The speaker was interesting.

It would have been more interesting if Roman had made it, because there was a woman there who fitted the description of "her", the other woman, to a T. I was shocked. I wanted very much to introduce myself and find out if it really was her, but I couldn't think of how right then. I was absolutely stunned. I waited around in the parking lot to see if she and her driver headed for the Friendly's, since by then I had figured out a way to approach her without giving anything away, but they turned the other direction. Phooey. A lost opportunity.

I didn't catch a flicker of recognition from her, although she had to be aware I was staring at her. You'd think the hair might mean something to her. I mean, he has to have turned up occasionally with long pale blond hairs on his sweaters. (And damn! My hair looked good last night! It was silky smooth and actually sparkled.)

So today I am filled with questions.
First off, I truly believe Roman's reason for not making the meeting. I accept it as completely honest.
IF that WAS her, was he unaware she would be there? How could that be?
It would make sense that she might go, since she would be aware of Roman's fancy new digital SLR camera (which she is probably NOT aware was a gift to him from ME.)
If he was aware that she would be there, wouldn't he have tried to discourage me from going?
Is it possible that if the timing had worked out, we could have found ourselves all together in the same room?
Oops?
Wouldn't that have been fun?

Damn! I wish I knew if that was really her. How many women are there around here who would fit the description so well, AND be likely to turn up at that meeting?

I hope it was her. If so, I need no longer feel that I might suffer by comparison. (Oooo - catty! Bad girl! Slap fingers!)

Later edit - 2:15 pm. I have about convinced myself now that it was not her. It couldn't have been. Too much coincidence. Maybe I just want it to have been her. Oh, the drama! Oh, the excitement! Oh, I wish I knew. I wish I could find out for sure.

#518 Scary Dream

I had this dream about 10 days ago. For some reason I didn't write it down then, but also for some reason I told Roman about it the last time I saw him, the morning after I had the dream. It's still bothering me. It's one of those where I woke up panting and shaking, and very frightened.

The house in the dream was not this house, but the previous house, the one my daughter grew up in, except that the living room wall next to the door wasn't there. It was late evening in the dream, and someone was ringing the doorbell over and over, like it was an emergency or something. I went to the door, and asked through the door who was there. As was often my habit in that house, the door was not locked. A man answered in a very excited and pleading voice, but what he was saying was in some eastern European-sounding language that I couldn't understand, except that every so often he said something that sounded like my name, but distorted by a heavy accent.

As I stood there trying to understand what he was saying, he became more excited and louder, less pleading and more angry, and I felt the doorknob slowly turning. He was opening the door! I caught a glimpse of him then. He was very thin and disheveled, even dirty. I tried to push the door closed and throw the deadbolt, but the door was ... weird. It swung both ways, and there was a wide space between the door and the frame. When I tried to push the door closed I pushed too far to his side, and he stuck his fingers over the deadbolt so it wouldn't engage. We struggled back and forth over the door, and I started screaming for Daughter to call 911. I finally managed to beat his fingers away from the deadbolt and got the door closed and locked, and then I ran down the hall still screaming for Daughter to call 911.

The man started down the front of the house. He was trying the windows. The house had double-hung windows, and as I ran toward my Daughter's room, I was thinking that all the windows were latched, except ...! In real life, in the end front bedroom, which was Daughter's room when we lived there, the side window didn't fit right, and it wouldn't latch. In real life, I had pegged it. But in the dream, it was unpegged, and when he got to that window, he would be able to open it. Also, in the dream, the back bedroom was my daughter's, and the front bedroom with the unlocked window was mine.

So I ran into Daughter's room screaming "Get your phone! Where's your phone! Call 911! Now!", and she was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her eyes, still half asleep, saying "Wha...?" (She looked maybe about 12 years old.) I knew she was wasn't going to be any help, she probably couldn't even find her phone, so I ran to my bedroom, and the man was at the unlatched window, and was about to open it

when I woke up in a panic.

I couldn't get back to sleep. I checked the bed phone to make sure it was working. I hefted and tested the flashlight. I went around and checked all the door locks. Several times. I even checked the deadbolt on the garage door. I suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. I was really frightened.

I haven't the faintest idea what it means. Yet.

If I can't have a man, I want a dog. For the first time ever, I was afraid here. I don't like that feeling.

#517 Trying to Get Lost

I made a quick trip to the deli about noonish, and then wandered some more back roads. I'm getting to know the roads around here too well. I may have to go farther afield to keep it satisfying. I kept ending up on route 9, no matter how well I watched the compass, so finally I gave up and headed home. As I turned into my street, I realized I really didn't want to go home. There's too much to do here that I don't feel like doing. Like laundry. Sorting. Clearing. Bleck. I really want to just go to bed with a book and shut the world out. But the bed isn't comfortable with those damn satin sheets, so I need to do laundry. Double bleck.

I had asked 'him' to call when he got back, to let me know how his mother was (but really how he was holding up), so he called last night. He's headed back down this afternoon, and may or may not make it back for the meeting tomorrow evening.

I mentioned to him that I had received his card, and I didn't know what to think of it, why he sent it.
He said he just wanted to let me know he was thinking of me "during this one or two week break".
"One or two weeks?"
He insisted he had said last Wednesday that he wanted to take a one or two week break.
I said I didn't hear that. I think I would have caught that, had I heard him say it.
Silence.
Well, he wanted me to know that he was thinking of me, that he "thinks about me a lot. All the time."
"Oh."
I changed the subject.

I haven't changed my mind.

I have an 11 o'clock meeting with Piper tomorrow to sign some papers, and then we plan to go out for lunch. Then I'll be heading for Pok for the computer club meeting. If lunch is long, I may not have an opportunity for a post tomorrow. Friday morning early (Oh god I hate that word) I have to have the van in for the (I hope they can do it) alignment.

Right now, I'm going to take a long bubble bath and wash my hair.

#516 A Home for My CDs

I'd been frustrated by my CD storage arrangements. They are in a deep mission-style cabinet in the livingroom, in such a way that it was not at all convenient to paw through them, so that they usually ended up in stacks on top of the cabinet (which incidentally also holds the player). The cabinet is right next to my little bill-paying desk, so it would be convenient if I could use it for desk overflow, instead of the piles on the floor around the desk. Therefore, I need a CD cabinet, right? Make the CDs convenient, and free up some useful storage space. I measured, and decided it would fit neatly behind the door in the den.

I bought this, from spinkeeper.com:

It holds 330 CD's or 166 DVD's or 92 VHS tapes.

It arrived today, was left on my doorstep in a box as tall, wide, and deep as myself. And when I tried to drag it into the house, I found that it was also as heavy as myself.

I cleaned out behind the den door, thinking I would assemble it tonight.

Uh-uh. This is going to be an all-day project. There are 184 pieces of hardware, 16 pieces of wood (the visible parts are hardwood, backs and shelves are composite), and 2 pieces of glass. It requires two types of screwdrivers in two or three different sizes, a rubber mallet, glue (provided), various pliers, and who knows what else.

Oh, and space on the floor big enough to assemble it. I may be in trouble there. I mean, that's why I bought it - to open up some space...!

Well, the pieces are out of the box, and it sure is pretty, although it's a lot REDder than I expected, for cherry finish. I was thinking cherry wood, not cherry pie. Oh, well.

#515 Where Oh Where Have My Little Boys Gone?

I received a notice yesterday that there was a certified letter waiting for me at the post office, so today I picked it up. It was from a fertility clinic in Albany.

Back before Jay started his first chemotherapy, he stored several vials of sperm at Albany Medical Center. He was only 46 at the time (I was 54), and the doctors recommended it for peace of mind. Jay had no children and always wanted some, so ....

After he died, I didn't know what to do with the vials. I let them stay the first year, but they really weren't doing anyone any good just sitting there. Then Albany Med closed their fertility center, and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. It's a few hundred dollars a year. I agonized over it a bit, and then called them and signed the papers to have them released - I chose the option where they can use them for fertilization or science, or just destroy them, and I would not be told what happened to them. I decided that whatever their fate, it would be what was meant to be. That was early in 2003.

In 2004 that clinic closed, and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. I called and explained the situation, and they forgave the bill.

In 2005 that clinic closed (Do you see a pattern here? What is it with fertility clinics?), and I got a notice that the vials were being transferred to another center, followed shortly by a bill from the new center for another year's storage. I called and explained the situation, and they forgave the bill.

Here it is 2006. Guess what. They are being transferred again. I haven't got the bill yet, but I suppose it's coming.

I feel haunted. Hounded. I wonder if Jay has a hand in this from beyond. I may have to find a surrogate mother somewhere to use them up.

Anyone out there interested in giving birth to a tall dark furry genius?

#514 Lost Peace

I went to the post office this evening, and then for one of my notorious "try to get lost" drives. I took turns at random, and I found a tiny hamlet I'd never heard of before, named Viewmont, six or eight houses and a church, somewhere north of home between routes 9 and 9G. The road was one of those where the trees and telephone poles and barns crowd right up against the verge, and the deer were out in the twilight. It was a nice drive. I may never find that road again.

I often find places like that, quiet peaceful spots, but usually there's no village sign, or I don't remember the name, so I can't look it up on a map, and I really never do find it again. I like to think sometimes that the place existed only for that moment, and can never be found again.

Like a lot of peaceful places

When I got home, I brought the mail up from the end of the drive, and found among it a card from Roman. On the front it says "Just thought I'd drop you a line to say Hi and to let you know things are pretty much the same" with a drawing of a grinning cat. Inside it says "I'm still as adorable as you remember me to be." It's signed "With Love".

I don't understand.

It was mailed on Saturday, from Westchester. Westchester? Saturday? And then the call last night, Sunday night.

I don't understand.

He's male. Men don't shop for cards like that, especially not for someone they want to "take a break" from.
He's intelligent. If he did want to choose a card, he'd want to make damn sure it was appropriate.
He's cautious. He wouldn't say anything in writing that I might misinterpret.

I don't understand.

How does he want me to interpret this? Is he just wagging his tail, like "Please don't be mad at me?"

Is he trying to defuse any retaliation I might take?

And then I sit down at the computer and find an email from him, written a half hour before, containing details about the computer club meeting Thursday evening and a note that he's getting ready to head back to the city.

Ok, this one I could understand all by itself. But it was a little more than I could take all at once.

I need to find that hamlet again.

Daughter? Do nothing! Say nothing! I am strong when I have to be, and I am allowed to be weak when I want to be.

Right now I am strong.

I will never! ever! be second-class again.

#513 Still Friends, I Hope

Roman called last night. He had his parent's cell phone, and called from the highway on his way back from the city. His mother had been taken ill suddenly Friday, is now hositalized, and it's looking worrisome. His father needs constant care, so that could be a problem, too. He had spent the weekend there and plans to go back and forth as he is able to get coverage for his classes.

He kept losing the signal, and after three drops and callbacks, we decided to finish the call after he got home.

The purpose of the call was not so much to tell me about his mother as to ask how I was (which he didn't get around to until after he got home). Rather nice of him to ask, I think. Also to tell me about an Adobe rep who would be speaking at the computer club on Thursday about Photo Shop. The speakers usually have copies of their products for sale at a discount, and he thought I might be interested. And to tell me that the class I had signed up for with him in February looks like it will run (2/3 of the evening classes offered don't get enough enrollment), since there are already three people signed up.

I was actually surprised at my reaction. Of course I wanted to hug him for his mother. But I wasn't hoping he'd ask me to come over. Not that I hoped he wouldn't - it just didn't matter. I suppose I would have gone to him if he'd asked, but I'd keep my clothes on.

I do plan to go to the meeting on Thursday, and although it would be nice if he were there (since I'm not a member), I didn't ask if he would be. In fact, I offered to pick up a copy for him if he wasn't there. He said no, he didn't want one just yet.

I'm glad he told me that the class is going to go, because I do want the subject, and it's nice to know asap because there's also another class starting the same night, meeting the same nights for the same duration, that I was sort of interested in. I'd have been disappointed if Roman's class was cancelled and the college didn't inform me until too late to sign up for the other (they DO that! And they'd cancel the other, too, at the same time, when my signing up for it could have saved it.)

An aside - you'd think the college could be a little smarter. They'll offer three sections on the same subject, one M/F evenings, one T/TH evenings, and one on Saturday mornings. They'll get two people sign up for each, and then a few days before they are supposed to start, they'll cancel all three because none of the sections have the required minimum. Ummm, wouldn't it make sense to check on whether any of the enrollees would be willing to switch to a different day? Maybe all six would be willing to take it on the same day. Am I the only person who thought of this?

So, anyhow, when Roman asked how I was, and I said "Fine", I meant it.

#512 The Journey Begins

Having checked him out (I even found his ABA registration number), I called the lawyer early this afternoon. He has a nice strong voice. Two daughters, a teenaged son who lives with him, and five grandchildren. One of his daughters (the source of some of the grandchildren) lives just a few miles from me. Near the bridge. (Ack!)

He'll call during the week, and we'll meet sometime at the diner in Hyde Park "after work" for coffee and dessert.

I also got a nice note from a retired guy who lives in western Nebraska. Not looking for a date, just someone to correspond with, with his brand-new what-the-heck-do-I-do-with-this-thing computer. I have set up a special alternate screen name on AOL to correspond with him, and have directed him to some online communities. If he gets weird, I can just delete the screen name.

I will probably do the same with any local responders whom I can't check out so easily.

The lawyer guy was easy to check out, because he gave me a land-line phone number. But having determined that he is an ABA member (since the late 1960s) doesn't mean he still IS a member in good standing, and that he's not totally nutso. I know that. So yes, I will still be careful.

But I do tend to be too open and trusting - so Daughter, you'll get an email shortly with all the details, in case I like, turn up missing or something.

I don't know how to check out someone who doesn't give me a land-line number. That worries me. Even with this guy, even though "Esq." or "Atty" was after his name everywhere I could find it, until I found him on the ABA website I was still not convinced (his home address is not impressive). I kept remembering the guy I knew who decided he was a baron.

This guy, let's pretend his name was Carlesky, decided that his name had been corrupted when his ancestors immigrated, and that his name should be Carlov. He changed it to Carlov with the Mensa main office. Then he decided it should really be VonCarlov. Another change. Then he decided he was by inheritance a baron, so he wanted Mensa mail to be addressed to Baron VonCarlov. Further enhancements ensued. At some point, the main office said enough already, and refused to make further changes. But, he wanted to be Baron VonCarlov everywhere he could be, and he was. Likewise, I suppose someone could get away with adding "Esq." or "Atty" after their name if they want, without a problem, as long as they don't give legal advice.

You know, I'm not really sure I want to do this. It seems like so much trouble, so much potential for rejection. I feel like I have to, though. I don't want to go back into the funk I had been in, before the frog prince kissed the sleeping beauty and awakened her. That would be so easy.... Just to go back to sleep.

#511 Onward!

Well, I responded to the anonymous attorney's wink, and he responded to my email (through the dating site, so there's no personal information attached), and he sent me his telephone number and asked me to call.

Being me, I did a reverse search on the phone number, and guess what? I now have his full name and home address, and he really IS an attorney in private practice in Poughkeepsie. I have no fear of meeting him now. (Except for the fact that he wants "unique beauty and class". Well, I'm certainly unique. Class? Snort!)

And you're not going to believe this coincidence - his home is next door to where Roman once lived. I doubt they have met, but lemme tellya, that totally freaked me out.

I haven't called yet. I'm a little nervous about it. I'm not very good at cold conversation.

#510 Taking the Next Step

I released my online dating profile on a major site last night. I've already received a "wink" from a lawyer in Poughkeepsie. This could be fun.

#509 The Healing Begins.

Ok, now I'm mad.

He probably thinks his nose is clean because he never made any commitments to me, and made it clear that he was not in commitment mode. Although he signed his cards "With Love", he told me he loved me only twice, and then he was careful to add "but not as much as you want". He said things like "I didn't want to say it because you would make more of it than it is." So he probably thinks he was clear and definite. Aboveboard. Never misled me.

Is he really unaware that actions speak louder than words? All those times when it was so obvious that he was truly happy to see me? When I got buried in huge hugs? All the kisses on the top of my head in public places? All that pressing against cars in restaurant parking lots when we were going home separately after a dinner? The "with love" cards? The times when we had a bad spot, and the next time he saw me he'd rush to me and wrap me in his arms, and say he'd been worried about me? When he tried to make my birthday special (which incidentally, is the day after hers, near the end of October)? All those sweet sweet kisses? When I said goodbye to him at the airport in August (two separate sets of goodbyes), when he held me like he was reluctant to leave, and others there thought we were having such great difficulty tearing ourselves away from each other? When he held my thigh possessively when we sat next to each other in restaurants and at Mensa events, until I asked him not to? The time he teleported himself across a classroom because he thought I might be ill? When he seemed to need and appreciate my love? Does he really think that meant nothing to me? I was aware he had been emotionally battered over the past few years. I naturally assumed he was just being cautious. He kept telling me that he wanted to know "the real me", that he didn't want me to show one side and then change later. Another indication to me that he was being cautious, but was truly interested in me.

So no, he wasn't being clear and definite. He was being devious and cruel. And it was very unfair of him to put me in the position he ultimately did, which guaranteed he'd see my worst side, the jealousy, anger, frustration, and bitterness, and then judge me on that. Especially since she doesn't know about me, so she's still all sweetness. Very unfair. (I'm willing to bet that she sensed his attention drifting back in the beginning, and became sweeter to pull him back.)

Another thing to be angry about is that a few weeks ago, I asked him that if we ever decided not to "see" each other again, that we talk about it in person, not by email or telephone. He said of course, that he would owe me at least that courtesy, that consideration. Those were just about his exact words. He reacted like it was a given. Like how could I think he'd do otherwise. So how did he tell me that he wants to "take a break"? By telephone. So much for courtesy and consideration "owed". He owes me a lot more than that! (Heh. Maybe this means we're not really parting ways, huh? Just a recess, maybe, because he hasn't made it official by saying it in person? Bull poopy.)

In the previous entry I mentioned a friend who had told me about the other woman in mid-October. Another friend who was concerned about me had him investigated, and although this person gave me no details then, just dropped a lot of hints, I was very strongly warned against involvement with him. That was late October, when he was still romancing me, and I couldn't believe otherwise. I guess I have some people around me who care. (On the other hand, friends warned me against Jay, too, and their fears proved groundless.)

And yes, I did go back for the details, later. When it hurt too much not knowing for sure. And I didn't tell Roman all I knew. I needed to hear it from him. So I kept things from him, too, but ironically it was the same things he was keeping from me.

There's one more thing. Among all these facts, this one thing, a mere suspicion, supported by absolutely nothing, hurts the most and makes me most angry. I had brought home two soft purple teddy bears from Daughter's birthday party, and I gave one of them to him. He said he'd never had a teddy bear before and seemed tickled. He put it on top of the microwave, right next to his back door. It was there during my next three visits or so, and then it disappeared. He says he has no idea what happened to it, that perhaps a guest of his housemate had taken it. Or maybe he took it upstairs to his room and misplaced it. The housemate, when asked, said he noticed it was missing one day, too, but that he didn't see how anyone could have taken it. Well, the date it disappeared coincides pretty neatly with what I later found out to be her birthday. The day before mine. The thought that he may have given the bear to her hurts. The idea that I would actually suspect him of that hurts even more to admit. He mostly didn't tell me the whole truth about a lot of things, but at least he never actually lied to me either. The suspicion that he may have lied about this hurts most of all, because then I have to wonder if I ever knew him at all. I gave him a piece of me. I don't want him giving her a piece of me. I want that bear back.

Why am I putting this into a public journal?

Because, if given the opportunity, I may backslide. And if I am tempted, I need to know that you, my friends and family, will slap me soundly upside the head. Repeatedly, if necessary.

#508 Taking a Break

Well, Roman and I are "taking a break". Of course, we know what that really means.

This came out of a phone conversation last night. He brought it up, but I wasn't at all surprised. I had pushed a lot of buttons Monday and Tuesday that I knew I shouldn't have, and for the first time ever I craved cigarettes while I was with him. That means that whatever morphine-related chemical he had been generating in my brain wasn't getting generated any more. I still have very warm and soft feelings for him (especially when I see his smile), but I'm tired of the anger and frustration, the half-truths, the crumbs of time. I'm tired of feeling like a mistress to a married man. I'm tired of feeling second-best. I had told him on Monday that I wasn't looking for anything more for us, even if it didn't work out with the other woman, because I would always feel like second best with him.

I still love him, but it's a standing-away kind of love. I wish him love and happiness in his future, but I don't think he's ever going to find what he wants, needs, and deserves. He knows there's something important missing in his relationship with the other woman, but I guess he thinks it can still happen. After 3 years? He dreams. And one day he will wake up and realize that, and it will be too late to get out of it. I think he's the kind of guy who can't leave one woman until he has another all lined up, and this means he goes from hasty choice to hasty choice, and suffers all over again. But he has to make his own choices, and live with them. I can accept that. That is his fate. Only he can change it.

What amazes me is that I am so calm about it. I haven't cried, and I haven't wanted to. Not ten minutes after he and I ended our call, Jay's eldest sister called, and I told her the whole story. I've always been able to talk with her. It was a very fortunate call. It allowed me to decompress. I even slept well last night.

I admit I am still very angry with him for the way he "rushed" me through late July, August, September, and October. The romance and affection were extreme. A whirlwind. I was very susceptible because there had been no one since Jay, and because I already knew him and knew that I liked him and admired his mind.

He even went through that phase of new love, where you convince yourself and your partner that "this is fate, it was always meant to be", when he told me over and over how he remembered me from a chance meeting in the early 80s, had often thought of me, and then had transferred into my department in the early 90s because he saw my name on the organization chart, and had wanted to get to know me better, but was disappointed when I was so involved with Jay then. Crap like that can turn a gal's head. And bend her heart near to breaking. And the kicker is that the whole time he was romancing me, he was still working on the other woman. THAT's the stinking part.

A friend who knows her, and knew about her and him, told me in mid-October all about her and what was going on, mid-October when I was falling very hard for him, but I thought then that it was old news. That it was pretty much off. It wasn't until he confessed to me in November that I realized that it really truly was still going on and that he had purposely misled me.

So, yeah, I'm angry. Not at his wanting to "take a break", I am ready for that too, I sent him an email Tuesday evening, the night before his call, that pretty much said the same thing, in gentler terms. That I wanted to get back to friendship. I wanted to see him more but on less intimate terms. My version of "taking a break". Cool off.

I am angry at his ever toying with me in the first place. He wasn't serious. He didn't give me a chance, and I doubt that he ever meant to. He wasn't fair and honest. And after I found out what was going on with her, I was a little crazed, which destroyed any chance I may have had with him anyway. I just couldn't believe anyone could do that to me. Not someone whom up to that point I had respected.

I would like to keep the friendship. I still care for him. He can't help it if he's a klutz about his life. I will still see him around occasionally, even if unplanned. Worse, I am registered in a class in February that I do want to take that he's teaching. At some point I'll stop reacting to his smile, and then I'd like to be able to call on him when I need his expertise, and I'd like to be available to him if he ever needs me.

But I will no longer be available to provide the missing pieces in his relationship. It's not good for me or him.

I'm not completely over him, of course. That will take a while. If he came to me and said that the other woman is finally out of his life, and he'd like to try again, then maybe, maybe. Maybe with extreme caution. He's so intelligent, and so damn affectionate, and so very very good in the sack. He's not callous. He's just an emotional mess. He has a good and loving soul somewhere down deep inside there, under all the hurt and pain.

Getting beyond thinking like that is going to take a while.

#507 Tired. $400 Worth.

At noon today I headed out in search of new tires. By 4 pm I was tired, tired, and $400 poorer. The new tires are "rated" for 70,000 miles. I'll be happy if they last 50k.

When I asked if I could get 4 new tires and an alignment "right now", the dealer said yeah, no problem.

Problem.

They couldn't get the van onto the "alignment machine", whatever that is, because there was some kind of something or other that caught on the dropped floor of the van (the notorious mere 4 inches of clearance - I have the same problem with automatic carwashes). So he called their store in Kingston, and they didn't think they could do it either. I called around myself. A garage in Red Hook that is familiar with the van from other visits thought maybe they could, with some kind of ramp arrangement, so I've got an appointment for the 13th. As in Friday the 13th. A week and a half away.

So I told them to go ahead and put the new tires on, and I'll figure out the alignment later. The folks I ordered the van through will probably know where I can get it done for sure, they handle a lot of Braun conversions, but they're still on vacation.

Problem.

They couldn't get the van on a lift. They had to jack it up and do each side individually.

But I guess I wasn't the worst problem they had today. While I was waiting, a truck pulled in with the biggest travel trailer I've ever seen, one of those gazillion-wheeled jobbies. They had a flat tire on the trailer. I bet that was fun. I'll bet it wouldn't go on a lift, either.

Then I stopped at the post office and picked up a gift that had been waiting for me since last week. One of Jay's sisters has sent me the most gorgeous velour robe, royal purple (that seems to be my new color - everything's coming up purple), and it is exquisitely soft. I've never felt a robe so light and soft. I've never even felt a sweater so soft, not even silk or cashmere.

I got home at 4:30 and started clearing the remainder of the driveway. The snow was that solid packed stuff that makes nice igloo blocks, about 10 inches of it. I was so happy that the extension cord reached from the garage to the edge of the plowed section. There was no way I could have gotten the snowthrower over the plow piles to get it any closer.

It normally takes me 1 to 1.5 hours to clear the entire driveway. All I had to do this evening was half the flat part at the top, and it took me over an hour. The snow was so dense, I had to keep stopping to allow the auger to chew its way through. And this is a BIG machine.

(Something very strange - I just did a spellcheck, and although it highlighted several words, I opted to change nothing. Then, when I got out of spellcheck and read the entry again, I found that "snowthrower", in the second paragraph up from here, had been changed to "contrariety". Huh? It may be an accurate synonym, but how did spellchecker know that? (And how the heck did it get "contrariety" from "snowthrower", anyway?)) I don't understand....

Later update - the 10 inches of snow was an estimate. I just measured. It was 13 inches. For some reason, our street gets more snow than just below the hill on the highway. We are high, but not that high, so I don't know why. And before anyone yells at me, yes, I have had alignments before - at least two, possibly three on this van, I just don't remember where.

#506 Home, to Snow/Slush

I'm home again. I went to LaGrange yesterday about 1 pm, and stayed until about 6:30 this evening. Ten inches of snow on top of freezing rain was predicted, so I loaded the snowthrower into the van and took it with me. It would make quick work of Roman's driveway. I stopped on the way and arranged for the Hairless Hunk to plow the main part of my drive so that I could get the van (and snowthrower) up when I got home.

The storm started last night with mixed rain, sleet, and snow, and continued all night. I was surprised that in the morning there was only about two inches of very wet slush on the driveway. Then today there were light snow showers all day. But again, there was very little accumulation on the ground, although there were maybe 4 inches of mushy snow on the deck.

Imagine my surprise when I got home and found somewhere between 8 and 10 inches of heavy wet snow in the driveway. A path had been plowed to the top, and the plow heaps were higher than the hood of the van. As requested, HH had not plowed most of the flat area at the top (although he had to do some to be able to turn his truck around).

I guess we did get a little more than LaGrange got.

I'll have to finish it with the snowthrower tomorrow. I hope it doesn't freeze solid overnight. I could have a real mess out there.

Also tomorrow I have to do something about the tires on the van. When I drove to New Jersey back before Christmas, I noticed that at about 63 mph the front and the steering wheel were shimmying. I assumed it was the alignment or something. But it has been getting worse. Now it shimmies badly below 35 and above 45. Roman looked at the tires and found a 1-inch jagged tear in the driver's side front tire sidewall. Very strange. How could that happen? Now I'm worried that maybe a belt has shifted? I drove all the way home from LaGrange this evening at 40-45 mph. It took an hour. So not only did I drive home slowly, I had a steel grip on the steering wheel.

There's been something wrong with those tires since day one. They have worn very badly on the outside edges of the tread, but they were never underinflated. They have less than 40,000 miles on them. I think tomorrow I'll replace at least the front two. Next summer, the rear two.

I overstayed my welcome in LaGrange, I think. If we don't have to get out because he has to go to work, that happens. I'm such a pain sometimes. Well, maybe usually. I can't seem to let things go. I attack his reticence. And I can't seem to say goodbye because it's like I'm afraid one of these days he'll come to his senses and this will be the last I see of him. So, I sense he's anxious to get to other matters, and my presence distracts him he says, no matter how I try to stay out of his way, and then I turn kittenish and outrageous, and then things spin out of control. I hate when I do that. But it had been two weeks since I'd seen him last, and I was starving. I don't think he understands that.

.... My insecurities are showing.

To bed early tonight. I hope I can get to sleep in decent time. Much work to do tomorrow.

#505 Satin Sheets to Lie On

I put satin sheets on my bed Saturday night. Not because I wanted satin sheets, but because there weren't any clean cotton sets.

Back when I bought them, a year or so ago, someone had told me not to get the woven satin ones because they were too hot and too slippery. They said to get the knit satin. So I did. This is the first time I've used them.

If this is less slippery, I don't want to think about the others!

The bottom sheet is fitted, and the top sheet has a fitted foot, which is nice. I have a feather bed on top of the mattress, under the bottom sheet, and a lofty down comforter over the top sheet.

I spent Saturday night chasing the comforter around the bedroom.

The top sheet slides off the bottom, and the comforter slides off the top sheet. The fitting at the foot of the top sheet doesn't help any. And since when I had changed the sheets I had fluffed up the feather bed, if I got too close to the edge of the bed, I slid out. And the pillows kept escaping.

Miss Thunderfoot likes them even less. When she jumps up on the bed, the whole surface slides. She got dumped twice, and now she asks me to lift her up.

I gotta wash those cotton sheets SOON!

#504 Did You Eat Your Sauerkraut Today?

Yup. Sauerkraut on New Year's Day. Ensures luck for the year. Family tradition. I made it with kielbasa. Yummy. I'm spending the day with Roman tomorrow. Hmmmm. Kielbasa and sauerkraut may be a mistake.

The first thing I did today was clear the driveway. It went really fast this time.

You have to get the hand rhythm on that thing. The thingy to make the wheels go is on the right handlebar, the thingy to make the screws go is on the left handlebar, and the shift is across the middle. Shift into 3-forward. Squeeze with the left hand to engage the screws. Squeeze with the right hand to engage the wheels. Go forward. *Release right hand. When chute is empty, release left hand (screws must be disengaged to shift, and must remain disengaged when in reverse). Shift into reverse. Squeeze right hand. DO NOT squeeze left hand. Back up. Release right hand. Shift into 3-forward. Squeeze left hand. Squeeze right hand. Go forward. Repeat from *.

A problem I've had in the past is that I forget to release the left hand when shifting and when in reverse. I guess because it seems most normal to shift with the right, the left hand has nothing to do, so it just keeps holding the thingy down. Today I pretended to be left-handed, and I shifted with the left hand, and that cured my problem.

Within three or four stiff shifts, it seems to have also cured the snowthrower's problem. We really worked like a team today! So to reward it, I went out and bought it some fresh gas.

Yummy.