Friday, August 18, 2006
[Later edit - I added a link to Pussyfoot. Help her out a bit. It really is a wonderful kitty B&B.]
Very quick entry.
I got home from Florida about midnight Wednesday.
Thursday I picked up Miss Thunderfoot from Pussyfoot Lodge, picked up and sorted the held mail, had lunch with Piper, and a buncha other stuff, then went to a group dinner in Poughkeepsie. I declined an invitation to go to play NTN trivia with Tom and Mark after dinner because I was too tired, and instead wandered around a department store with Roman, looking for exactly the right pillows and drinking glasses for his place. I could barely stay awake on the drive home, was asleep by 11 pm, with my face in a crossword puzzle.
Miss Thunderfoot hasn't gotten more than 18 inches from my right ankle since she got home. Mommy feels guilty. When I got home from dinner last night, I could hear her meowing as I unlocked the front door. Guilty, guilty Mommy.
Today I futzed around with the blog-reading backlog, and I plan to go to another group dinner in Newburgh tonight. It's 4:00 pm now, and I'll have to leave here by 5:10, and I haven't bathed or even completely unpacked yet, and I have some emails I absolutely have to do, so I have to scoot.
Back later. Or maybe tomorrow.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Monday, August 07, 2006
837 All About Fawn Spots
Monday, August 7, 2006
I had a question on the previous entry, as to how you can tell the sex of a fawn from the spots. All fawns have one or more often two rows of spots in a line on the top of their backs. On their sides, the spots are more randomly scattered. On a male fawn, the spots will usually (but not always) form lines along the bottom of their sides. Sometimes they are in lines even in the middle of their flanks. The more lines formed, the more likely it's male. The female fawn usually (but not always) has only the lines along the spine. The rest of the spots are randomly arranged. There's a theory that Nature favors the females, since She wants more of them, and random spots are more concealing.
Go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White-tailed_Deer, and scroll down a bit to the photo of a fawn (taken at Ricketts Glen, where I go to visit the falls. Wikipedia has a nice entry on Ricketts Glen, too.) Note the line of spots on the spine, and on the hip, and above the belly, and a few shorter lines here and there. This is most likely a male fawn.
At http://www.words4it.com/?p=9207, this is almost definitely a male. At http://www.aces.edu/pubs/docs/A/ANR-1396/index2.tmpl, it's most likely a female.
So with "my" fawns, since they have the same mother, and their spots are very different, I feel confident in identifying one as male, and the other as female.
-------------------------------------
I leave tomorrow for the Mensa International Gathering at Disney World. I may or may not be able to post from there.
Naturally, I've left everything 'til today, and I'm going crazy. The (last minute "Hey, why not") housesitter (whose street is being torn up and who would otherwise be without water or sewer for a week) can't come to learn about the house quirks until late this evening, and there's a town meeting at 7-ish to present the development plans for the village and surrounding town, that, given my view, I am very interested in. I'd like to drop in to see the maps, at least.
So - I'm off.
I had a question on the previous entry, as to how you can tell the sex of a fawn from the spots. All fawns have one or more often two rows of spots in a line on the top of their backs. On their sides, the spots are more randomly scattered. On a male fawn, the spots will usually (but not always) form lines along the bottom of their sides. Sometimes they are in lines even in the middle of their flanks. The more lines formed, the more likely it's male. The female fawn usually (but not always) has only the lines along the spine. The rest of the spots are randomly arranged. There's a theory that Nature favors the females, since She wants more of them, and random spots are more concealing.
Go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White-tailed_Deer, and scroll down a bit to the photo of a fawn (taken at Ricketts Glen, where I go to visit the falls. Wikipedia has a nice entry on Ricketts Glen, too.) Note the line of spots on the spine, and on the hip, and above the belly, and a few shorter lines here and there. This is most likely a male fawn.
At http://www.words4it.com/?p=9207, this is almost definitely a male. At http://www.aces.edu/pubs/docs/A/ANR-1396/index2.tmpl, it's most likely a female.
So with "my" fawns, since they have the same mother, and their spots are very different, I feel confident in identifying one as male, and the other as female.
-------------------------------------
I leave tomorrow for the Mensa International Gathering at Disney World. I may or may not be able to post from there.
Naturally, I've left everything 'til today, and I'm going crazy. The (last minute "Hey, why not") housesitter (whose street is being torn up and who would otherwise be without water or sewer for a week) can't come to learn about the house quirks until late this evening, and there's a town meeting at 7-ish to present the development plans for the village and surrounding town, that, given my view, I am very interested in. I'd like to drop in to see the maps, at least.
So - I'm off.
836 Sunday
Sunday, August 07, 2006
The doe who parks her fawns outside my bathroom window has twins this year. Judging by the spot patterns, which is usually but not always accurate, one is male and the other is female. They are tiny and curious, still have very clear spots, and although they're still nursing, the female fawn is tasting grass (and seems a little bolder than her brother). That puts them at between three and five weeks old. The mother had them out in my side yard this morning, and I stood on the porch and watched them for quite a while.
--------------------------------
Firefox has stopped doing the tab bit. No updates. No reason. Just stopped out of the blue. We're back to separate copies on the toolbar.
I don't understand.
The doe who parks her fawns outside my bathroom window has twins this year. Judging by the spot patterns, which is usually but not always accurate, one is male and the other is female. They are tiny and curious, still have very clear spots, and although they're still nursing, the female fawn is tasting grass (and seems a little bolder than her brother). That puts them at between three and five weeks old. The mother had them out in my side yard this morning, and I stood on the porch and watched them for quite a while.
--------------------------------
Firefox has stopped doing the tab bit. No updates. No reason. Just stopped out of the blue. We're back to separate copies on the toolbar.
I don't understand.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
835 Aaaaagh!
Saturday, August 05, 2005
I'm having trouble writing August, on checks, on notes, here, everywhere. It's like I refuse to admit it's August already. I'm not ready!
I'm fussing with Animusic.com. Our local PBS station plays their videos during the "fill time" between shows, and they fascinate me (not the ones with the robots. I don't like them). I like the ones with the Rube Goldberg instrument heaps that play themselves. So I went to their website and I bought the 2-DVD set. What arrived is two CDs - just the soundtrack from the DVDs - which, by the way, are $11.59 cheaper than the DVDs I paid for. I'm so very disappointed. But I like the music anyway (it's sort of jazzy easy listening electronic new age - I can't describe it - go to their website and check it out), so I decided to keep the CDs to play in the car.
They play in the house CD player. They play (audio-only) on the DVD player. They won't play in the car. They just get kicked back out again without even an error code.
Altogether I'm very disappointed.
So I have sent them a note today asking if they would please send me the DVDs, and since I overpaid for the CDs they sent me by accident, I expect to pay only the difference in price (also minus a $2 discount they offer on second orders). And, oh, by the way, why won't they play in the car?
I'm annoyed that I probably won't get a response until I'm about to head out the door for a week and a half.
-----------------------------------
Speaking of heading out the door, I have a unreasonable reaction. I'll be home alone all day and night, for days on end, and get no phone calls, and it doesn't bother me at all. I mostly don't especially like the telephone anyway, and most people know that. I turn my cell phone on only for outgoing calls or expected incoming. There are only a few people I'm comfortable chatting on the phone with.
And yet, if I'm out all day, or for an evening, or even just for a few minutes, the first thing I do when I get home is check for messages on the house phone. And for some reason, I am always terribly disappointed, to the point of feeling sorry for myself, sometimes almost to the point of tears, when there are no messages on the phone. That big fat red "0" mocks me. Like I was away, and nobody missed me, nobody loves me, nobody wanted me. I know this is unreasonable, but it's there. Every time. I hate it.
---------------------------------
I managed no post here yesterday. Firefox, BiznessOline (my ISP), Netscape, AOL, and Bloglines *ALL* updated themselves either late Thursday or early yesterday. All at once. So all day yesterday I was having problems. Firefox and Netscape both kept program-checking, the connection was so especially slow that things kept timing out, and it kept bouncing, and every time I tried to go to a post on Bloglines, instead of loading the post, it DOWNLOADED the entire blog or web page. Gack! AOL would get slower and slower until it locked the entire system, and I had to push the button and cold-start. Which on this antiquated overloaded piece of #$%& takes upwards of 20 minutes.
I use Bloglines to read blogs and some news flashes. I can read the nice simple content of a post or report right there on Bloglines without all the formatting I have to wait for if I go to the website itself. For me, it's a lot faster. If for some reason I need to go to the actual post, I click on the title, and go there. That downloading crap was a shock. So much so I had to try it several times to believe it. I noticed on my SiteMeter counter (at the bottom of this page) that I got only 4 hits yesterday (I usually get only maybe 15 or so, many of which are accidents, which as far as I'm concerned is about all I want, maybe even more than I deserve), so I suspect others were having similar problems.
Bloglines seems to have straightened itself out. Firefox, Netscape, and BiznessOnline have bounced only once each so far today, about average. AOL is behaving. Cross fingers. Firefox has started doing its "tab" thing all by itself, which I don't like because I'm not used to it, but I guess I could learn to tolerate it.
I do wish "they" wouldn't all change at once.
Oh - AOL has sent out a notice that AOL is now free! But their notice didn't say whether or not they will continue to hit my credit card every month. This could get interesting. I keep AOL just for email - I find it easier to use than any other I've seen. I'm a little worried though - what you see when you have the paid-for AOL code on your system is nothing like what you see when you handle email through the AOL website. If they're going to switch us all to that mode, I may have no reason to continue using AOL at all.
I'm having trouble writing August, on checks, on notes, here, everywhere. It's like I refuse to admit it's August already. I'm not ready!
I'm fussing with Animusic.com. Our local PBS station plays their videos during the "fill time" between shows, and they fascinate me (not the ones with the robots. I don't like them). I like the ones with the Rube Goldberg instrument heaps that play themselves. So I went to their website and I bought the 2-DVD set. What arrived is two CDs - just the soundtrack from the DVDs - which, by the way, are $11.59 cheaper than the DVDs I paid for. I'm so very disappointed. But I like the music anyway (it's sort of jazzy easy listening electronic new age - I can't describe it - go to their website and check it out), so I decided to keep the CDs to play in the car.
They play in the house CD player. They play (audio-only) on the DVD player. They won't play in the car. They just get kicked back out again without even an error code.
Altogether I'm very disappointed.
So I have sent them a note today asking if they would please send me the DVDs, and since I overpaid for the CDs they sent me by accident, I expect to pay only the difference in price (also minus a $2 discount they offer on second orders). And, oh, by the way, why won't they play in the car?
I'm annoyed that I probably won't get a response until I'm about to head out the door for a week and a half.
-----------------------------------
Speaking of heading out the door, I have a unreasonable reaction. I'll be home alone all day and night, for days on end, and get no phone calls, and it doesn't bother me at all. I mostly don't especially like the telephone anyway, and most people know that. I turn my cell phone on only for outgoing calls or expected incoming. There are only a few people I'm comfortable chatting on the phone with.
And yet, if I'm out all day, or for an evening, or even just for a few minutes, the first thing I do when I get home is check for messages on the house phone. And for some reason, I am always terribly disappointed, to the point of feeling sorry for myself, sometimes almost to the point of tears, when there are no messages on the phone. That big fat red "0" mocks me. Like I was away, and nobody missed me, nobody loves me, nobody wanted me. I know this is unreasonable, but it's there. Every time. I hate it.
---------------------------------
I managed no post here yesterday. Firefox, BiznessOline (my ISP), Netscape, AOL, and Bloglines *ALL* updated themselves either late Thursday or early yesterday. All at once. So all day yesterday I was having problems. Firefox and Netscape both kept program-checking, the connection was so especially slow that things kept timing out, and it kept bouncing, and every time I tried to go to a post on Bloglines, instead of loading the post, it DOWNLOADED the entire blog or web page. Gack! AOL would get slower and slower until it locked the entire system, and I had to push the button and cold-start. Which on this antiquated overloaded piece of #$%& takes upwards of 20 minutes.
I use Bloglines to read blogs and some news flashes. I can read the nice simple content of a post or report right there on Bloglines without all the formatting I have to wait for if I go to the website itself. For me, it's a lot faster. If for some reason I need to go to the actual post, I click on the title, and go there. That downloading crap was a shock. So much so I had to try it several times to believe it. I noticed on my SiteMeter counter (at the bottom of this page) that I got only 4 hits yesterday (I usually get only maybe 15 or so, many of which are accidents, which as far as I'm concerned is about all I want, maybe even more than I deserve), so I suspect others were having similar problems.
Bloglines seems to have straightened itself out. Firefox, Netscape, and BiznessOnline have bounced only once each so far today, about average. AOL is behaving. Cross fingers. Firefox has started doing its "tab" thing all by itself, which I don't like because I'm not used to it, but I guess I could learn to tolerate it.
I do wish "they" wouldn't all change at once.
Oh - AOL has sent out a notice that AOL is now free! But their notice didn't say whether or not they will continue to hit my credit card every month. This could get interesting. I keep AOL just for email - I find it easier to use than any other I've seen. I'm a little worried though - what you see when you have the paid-for AOL code on your system is nothing like what you see when you handle email through the AOL website. If they're going to switch us all to that mode, I may have no reason to continue using AOL at all.
834 What Country Am I?
You're Egypt!
Curator of ancient mystical secrets, your life on the surface is fairly typical these days, though you are in denial about more things than most people.
Nevertheless, you're trying to convince people that you're safe despite your more
volatile and unstable times that seem to be behind you. You like cats a whole lot.
You'd probably really appreciate The Blue Pyramid.
Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid
Thursday, August 03, 2006
833 No More Fixing Stuff!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
I put four new tires on the minivan, and a month later it started this tummy-ache garbage.
My kitchen phone lost the outgoing message every time the electricity dropped, because the batteries had died, but I'd lost the instruction book and didn't know where the battery compartment was. Roman found it and replaced the batteries. A month later, the handset died.
I finally got around to changing the water filter in the basement (with Roman's help), and then the (groundwater based heat pump) air conditioner promptly clogged with silt.
The cement cap on the chimney was deteriorating, so I had it replaced. Shortly thereafter, the roof leaked, causing damage to the kitchen and livingroom ceilings.
I had the underbrush cleared out of the woods, and since then, six trees have fallen, one covered in poison ivy.
.
.
.
What conclusion should I draw?
My vinyl siding has a lot of mold on it. I'm afraid to have it cleaned. My driveway is cracking and pitting. I'm afraid to have it topped. And I don't think I'll get a physical or cut my hair any time soon.
I put four new tires on the minivan, and a month later it started this tummy-ache garbage.
My kitchen phone lost the outgoing message every time the electricity dropped, because the batteries had died, but I'd lost the instruction book and didn't know where the battery compartment was. Roman found it and replaced the batteries. A month later, the handset died.
I finally got around to changing the water filter in the basement (with Roman's help), and then the (groundwater based heat pump) air conditioner promptly clogged with silt.
The cement cap on the chimney was deteriorating, so I had it replaced. Shortly thereafter, the roof leaked, causing damage to the kitchen and livingroom ceilings.
I had the underbrush cleared out of the woods, and since then, six trees have fallen, one covered in poison ivy.
.
.
.
What conclusion should I draw?
My vinyl siding has a lot of mold on it. I'm afraid to have it cleaned. My driveway is cracking and pitting. I'm afraid to have it topped. And I don't think I'll get a physical or cut my hair any time soon.
832 Price Signal?
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Roman mentioned on Tuesday that since he now uses the cell phone for most calls, he changed the house phone to a cheaper plan. The change requires no change to equipment, just to how he's billed, so all it needs is a (probably one-line) change on a computer. He's annoyed because the phone company is charging him a $45 "service charge" to make that change. It'll take several months of phone bill savings to make that up. But what really ticked him off is that if he had moved to a more expensive plan, requiring the same change, there would be no charge. So the service charge is not to cover the expense, it's to discourage people from changing to a cheaper plan.
There ought to be something illegal about that. It's certainly immoral. After all, retailers aren't allowed to charge more if you use a credit card instead of cash, even though credit card processing does cost them a significant amount more.
Yesterday (I think it was yesterday) I was watching a PBS news show about the problems with electrical service, specifically about brownouts and drops when the demand is high. They had some honcho on, and they talked about public education on conservation and how it is and is not working, and the honcho said that one of the problems is that "we haven't been sending the correct price signals to influence consumption." Direct quote.
Think about that a minute.
Roman mentioned on Tuesday that since he now uses the cell phone for most calls, he changed the house phone to a cheaper plan. The change requires no change to equipment, just to how he's billed, so all it needs is a (probably one-line) change on a computer. He's annoyed because the phone company is charging him a $45 "service charge" to make that change. It'll take several months of phone bill savings to make that up. But what really ticked him off is that if he had moved to a more expensive plan, requiring the same change, there would be no charge. So the service charge is not to cover the expense, it's to discourage people from changing to a cheaper plan.
There ought to be something illegal about that. It's certainly immoral. After all, retailers aren't allowed to charge more if you use a credit card instead of cash, even though credit card processing does cost them a significant amount more.
Yesterday (I think it was yesterday) I was watching a PBS news show about the problems with electrical service, specifically about brownouts and drops when the demand is high. They had some honcho on, and they talked about public education on conservation and how it is and is not working, and the honcho said that one of the problems is that "we haven't been sending the correct price signals to influence consumption." Direct quote.
Think about that a minute.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
831 Keeping Bees Out
I found out how I might be able to keep bees and wasps from nesting in my vehicles. I've been told that I should tie bundles of fresh or freshly dried bay leaves here and there in the front and back. My source swears it works.
I've found paper wasp nests in laurel bushes, so I dunno, but I'm willing to try it.
BTW - it's now 90 degrees in the den. I think I'll REALLY turn things off now and go shopping.
I've found paper wasp nests in laurel bushes, so I dunno, but I'm willing to try it.
BTW - it's now 90 degrees in the den. I think I'll REALLY turn things off now and go shopping.
830 Tuesday and Wednesday
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
[Edit - fixed the date.]
I missed a post yesterday, and now I don't remember what I did all day. I know I was busy - I had a "to do" list, all prioritized and numbered and everything, and I did everything on the list and then threw it away. Now all I can remember is the bank and the fuel oil. Oh, and the post office. And the pharmacy. And the insurance.
If you ever get annoyed at my lists of "what I did today", well, this is why I do it - because I don't always remember on my own.
I had received the forms to sign up for xxx gallons of fuel oil for the winter at a reduced price. You had to specify how much oil you wanted, but according to my records, I used only 250 gallons last winter. Last winter was very mild. I had prepaid for 400, so I had some credit, maybe 150 gallons at last year's low price. To complicate matters, they had two different prices - the lower price if you intended to pay up front, and a higher price to pay monthly. I gave up trying to figure it all out, and went to the fuel oil office. The nice guy there looked up my credit, and - this I don't understand - when I said I'd prepay, he said he'd give me a better price, and I'm getting next winter's oil for something like 40 cents a gallon less than their lowest advertised price. So that was a profitable trip.
I may have mentioned that there's a guy from one of the online dating sites who lives 99 miles away. Far far beyond my acceptable zone. He's also too tall, at 6'. But for some reason, I find him fascinating, and didn't reject him right off (it's beginning too look like all the good ones are too far away). He is articulate and erudite (his retirement business is an online bookstore), and I like the way his mind works. He'll take something I said in an email, and sort of spin it around, so we're looking at it sideways. My ultraslow connection and I have spent some time on email.
Talked with Roman on the phone last night. We are to have dinner Thursday. He gave me some things to bring up with the minivan service people. I was wondering if maybe there was gunk in the fuel line, but he said that's unlikely. Given the "when"s of the stalling, he thinks it's probably just that it's idling too slowly. You'd think they'd have checked that, but ... nobody really does vehicular diagnosis any more. Can't count on their having checked anything.
It's 99 degrees outside right now, and 88 degrees in here. I probably ought to give the PC a break, before it melts.
[Edit - fixed the date.]
I missed a post yesterday, and now I don't remember what I did all day. I know I was busy - I had a "to do" list, all prioritized and numbered and everything, and I did everything on the list and then threw it away. Now all I can remember is the bank and the fuel oil. Oh, and the post office. And the pharmacy. And the insurance.
If you ever get annoyed at my lists of "what I did today", well, this is why I do it - because I don't always remember on my own.
I had received the forms to sign up for xxx gallons of fuel oil for the winter at a reduced price. You had to specify how much oil you wanted, but according to my records, I used only 250 gallons last winter. Last winter was very mild. I had prepaid for 400, so I had some credit, maybe 150 gallons at last year's low price. To complicate matters, they had two different prices - the lower price if you intended to pay up front, and a higher price to pay monthly. I gave up trying to figure it all out, and went to the fuel oil office. The nice guy there looked up my credit, and - this I don't understand - when I said I'd prepay, he said he'd give me a better price, and I'm getting next winter's oil for something like 40 cents a gallon less than their lowest advertised price. So that was a profitable trip.
I may have mentioned that there's a guy from one of the online dating sites who lives 99 miles away. Far far beyond my acceptable zone. He's also too tall, at 6'. But for some reason, I find him fascinating, and didn't reject him right off (it's beginning too look like all the good ones are too far away). He is articulate and erudite (his retirement business is an online bookstore), and I like the way his mind works. He'll take something I said in an email, and sort of spin it around, so we're looking at it sideways. My ultraslow connection and I have spent some time on email.
Talked with Roman on the phone last night. We are to have dinner Thursday. He gave me some things to bring up with the minivan service people. I was wondering if maybe there was gunk in the fuel line, but he said that's unlikely. Given the "when"s of the stalling, he thinks it's probably just that it's idling too slowly. You'd think they'd have checked that, but ... nobody really does vehicular diagnosis any more. Can't count on their having checked anything.
It's 99 degrees outside right now, and 88 degrees in here. I probably ought to give the PC a break, before it melts.
Monday, July 31, 2006
829 Shower Rot
Monday, July 31, 2006
Talking about rotting the floor under the shower, in the previous entry, reminded me of the time I saw the results of water getting under a floor.
Friends had bought their first home, an older house that had long been rented to college students. I helped them move in and make some repairs.
The tiles on the floor of the downstairs bathroom were loose, so the husband started pulling them up.
We found that the subflooring was soaked and rotted. (It was untreated plywood. Someone must have earlier made a cheap repair.) So he started pulling that up.
The joists were soaked and rotted. They crumbled in our fingers. The shower stall was not resting on a firm floor - it was pretty much just hanging from the plumbing.
That could have made for a thrilling ride to the basement some morning.
Talking about rotting the floor under the shower, in the previous entry, reminded me of the time I saw the results of water getting under a floor.
Friends had bought their first home, an older house that had long been rented to college students. I helped them move in and make some repairs.
The tiles on the floor of the downstairs bathroom were loose, so the husband started pulling them up.
We found that the subflooring was soaked and rotted. (It was untreated plywood. Someone must have earlier made a cheap repair.) So he started pulling that up.
The joists were soaked and rotted. They crumbled in our fingers. The shower stall was not resting on a firm floor - it was pretty much just hanging from the plumbing.
That could have made for a thrilling ride to the basement some morning.
828 Monday
Monday, July 31, 2006
I drove the minivan today. It stalled four times before I got through the village, but after that it was fine. I've noticed that when it stalls is always when I slow down, as for a traffic light or a turn, and when I shift into reverse. Reverse? Is there something different about reverse that will help to diagnose this problem?
I went to the hardware store about 1 pm to exchange some bathroom caulk strips. Back when I got the key copied, I saw this stuff, and it looked like a good idea.
When the house was built, 20-some years ago, the builder never finished the trim in the bathrooms. Alongside the tub and the shower stall, the flooring just butts up against the fixtures. Jay said we had to put a silicon caulk line down in the seam, cut some quarter-round to fit precisely against the quarter-round along the baseboards, set it into the caulk, nail it, and then paint it to match the baseboard. He never got around to doing it. Neither did I. It seemed like an awkward and tool-intensive low priority task. On the other hand, even though water rarely gets out of the tub or shower, over time we could rot the floor.
So I happened to see something simpler. It's an L-shaped vinyl strip with stickum on the back. You just clean the surfaces, peel the paper off the back, and stick it on. Cutting it to abut the baseboards is easy, with scissors. I initially bought white, but when I got it home, it was obvious the beige would have been better.
I also bought two small fans at the hardware store. It's supposed to be very hot tomorrow, so it won't hurt to be better prepared.
Then I went to the fitness center, and put in 35 minutes on the treadmill. I couldn't do the full 45 because my right foot was dropping. Of course I can't feel it when it does that, but I could hear it scraping the surface of the treadmill on each step, and I couldn't seem to keep the toes up. Walking on ground it's not too dangerous, but with the (slight) slope on the treadmill I'd be more likely to trip, so I quit.
Then I went to the diner for the salad buffet. I had finished eating, had my check, and was packing up my book to leave when I heard a very loud "S-I-I-I-I-L-L-L-L-K!!" and looked up to find Piper and Vinnie arriving. I've never known Piper to suggest the diner, but there he was. He'd been in a charity golf tournament all morning and early afternoon, and ... he's going to be hurting tonight. He was badly sunburned. He looked like a happy tomato.
The two slid into my booth, and I had another cup of tea while they had soup and sandwiches.
I got home a little after 6. I ran out of day again.
I drove the minivan today. It stalled four times before I got through the village, but after that it was fine. I've noticed that when it stalls is always when I slow down, as for a traffic light or a turn, and when I shift into reverse. Reverse? Is there something different about reverse that will help to diagnose this problem?
I went to the hardware store about 1 pm to exchange some bathroom caulk strips. Back when I got the key copied, I saw this stuff, and it looked like a good idea.
When the house was built, 20-some years ago, the builder never finished the trim in the bathrooms. Alongside the tub and the shower stall, the flooring just butts up against the fixtures. Jay said we had to put a silicon caulk line down in the seam, cut some quarter-round to fit precisely against the quarter-round along the baseboards, set it into the caulk, nail it, and then paint it to match the baseboard. He never got around to doing it. Neither did I. It seemed like an awkward and tool-intensive low priority task. On the other hand, even though water rarely gets out of the tub or shower, over time we could rot the floor.
So I happened to see something simpler. It's an L-shaped vinyl strip with stickum on the back. You just clean the surfaces, peel the paper off the back, and stick it on. Cutting it to abut the baseboards is easy, with scissors. I initially bought white, but when I got it home, it was obvious the beige would have been better.
I also bought two small fans at the hardware store. It's supposed to be very hot tomorrow, so it won't hurt to be better prepared.
Then I went to the fitness center, and put in 35 minutes on the treadmill. I couldn't do the full 45 because my right foot was dropping. Of course I can't feel it when it does that, but I could hear it scraping the surface of the treadmill on each step, and I couldn't seem to keep the toes up. Walking on ground it's not too dangerous, but with the (slight) slope on the treadmill I'd be more likely to trip, so I quit.
Then I went to the diner for the salad buffet. I had finished eating, had my check, and was packing up my book to leave when I heard a very loud "S-I-I-I-I-L-L-L-L-K!!" and looked up to find Piper and Vinnie arriving. I've never known Piper to suggest the diner, but there he was. He'd been in a charity golf tournament all morning and early afternoon, and ... he's going to be hurting tonight. He was badly sunburned. He looked like a happy tomato.
The two slid into my booth, and I had another cup of tea while they had soup and sandwiches.
I got home a little after 6. I ran out of day again.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
827 Online Dating Update
Sunday, July 30, 2006
I had mentioned I found another online dating site, and that that seems to be where all the local men are hiding. They're still hiding!
In the past few days, I've turned down nine men from that site, almost all because they are too far away - in the 50 to 100 mile range (my profile says 30 or less, please), most in CT or MA or down around the Jersey line. Some of them sounded really interesting, except for the distance. My criteria is 30 miles. I want a natural friendship to develop, and I figure too much distance puts too much pressure on. You work too hard to impress and end up with false impressions.
Yeah, it's arbitrary. Maybe I don't really want this to work. Roman is still on my mind. But if I don't want it to work, but feel like I ought to try anyway, then the chances of finding an accidental soulmate are better if he's closer. So. Who knows what will happen. At least I'm somewhat open.
There were so many on this new site who were geographically close, and they're not biting. I have only two guys left in the "possibilities" pile, and they're both about 40 miles away. Is it possible that they're all looking for women at some distance, rather than close, because they're afraid not to have distance? The possible reasons for that are not pleasant to contemplate.
On the other sites, the ones I had pretty much given up on because like NOBODY was local, or available, or acceptable, and I hadn't heard from anyone in ages, all of a sudden it's like they woke up. In this past week I've been contacted by several, and I've suddenly got two possibilities (by that I mean ongoing pleasant email-stage contact) from those sites. And both are nearby!
From famine to feast. I wonder if it's a coincidence that in another week I leave town for two weeks. The table could be cleared by the time I'm able to meet any of them.
Anyway, that's where large amounts of time has been going lately - reading emailed notes, reading profiles on three different sites, and responding to shoulder-taps on my super slow connection.
I had mentioned I found another online dating site, and that that seems to be where all the local men are hiding. They're still hiding!
In the past few days, I've turned down nine men from that site, almost all because they are too far away - in the 50 to 100 mile range (my profile says 30 or less, please), most in CT or MA or down around the Jersey line. Some of them sounded really interesting, except for the distance. My criteria is 30 miles. I want a natural friendship to develop, and I figure too much distance puts too much pressure on. You work too hard to impress and end up with false impressions.
Yeah, it's arbitrary. Maybe I don't really want this to work. Roman is still on my mind. But if I don't want it to work, but feel like I ought to try anyway, then the chances of finding an accidental soulmate are better if he's closer. So. Who knows what will happen. At least I'm somewhat open.
There were so many on this new site who were geographically close, and they're not biting. I have only two guys left in the "possibilities" pile, and they're both about 40 miles away. Is it possible that they're all looking for women at some distance, rather than close, because they're afraid not to have distance? The possible reasons for that are not pleasant to contemplate.
On the other sites, the ones I had pretty much given up on because like NOBODY was local, or available, or acceptable, and I hadn't heard from anyone in ages, all of a sudden it's like they woke up. In this past week I've been contacted by several, and I've suddenly got two possibilities (by that I mean ongoing pleasant email-stage contact) from those sites. And both are nearby!
From famine to feast. I wonder if it's a coincidence that in another week I leave town for two weeks. The table could be cleared by the time I'm able to meet any of them.
Anyway, that's where large amounts of time has been going lately - reading emailed notes, reading profiles on three different sites, and responding to shoulder-taps on my super slow connection.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
826 Saturday
Saturday, July 29, 2006
I went to Poughkeepsie this morning, to the credit union, and paid off the Aerio loan. On the way back I stopped at the fitness center (after Saturday hours, so I got to use my new special key) and put 45 minutes on the treadmill. Then I stopped at an outdoor stand and got a hot dog with green pickle relish, then to the grocery store for juice, cat food, and cottage cheese. Then I read blogs.
And that was my Saturday.
Sheesh. I should get a life.
I went to Poughkeepsie this morning, to the credit union, and paid off the Aerio loan. On the way back I stopped at the fitness center (after Saturday hours, so I got to use my new special key) and put 45 minutes on the treadmill. Then I stopped at an outdoor stand and got a hot dog with green pickle relish, then to the grocery store for juice, cat food, and cottage cheese. Then I read blogs.
And that was my Saturday.
Sheesh. I should get a life.
825 Chicks and Old Crows
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Check this out: http://triggur.livejournal.com/172902.html. Further story at http://www.citypaper.net/articles/2004-08-26/naked2.shtml. Whoop! I wanna work for them!
A (young female) blogger asked some time ago for opinions on young women referring to each other, among themselves, as "chicks". I didn't much care for it, but I couldn't put into words why.
This afternoon the TV was on in the background again, and there was a very old (and very bad) movie on. Jane Fonda was playing a character who was definitely mature, late 20s or early 30s perhaps, more than capable of taking care of herself, punching out the bad guys and all. She was also attractive. The bad guys kept referring to her as "the girl". "Where's the girl?" "The girl has the notebook." "You let the girl get away?"
That was the 60s, when men were "men", and women were "girls" - but only if the woman was a sexual object. When she became "too old", or too unattractive, a man would no longer refer to her as a girl, but as a woman. That led to 80-year-old men referring to 70-year-old women as "girls". Jay's father, in his 90s, still calls the 80-something wives of his friends, or the women on his elder hostel tours, "girls". It sounds weird. In my world, a "girl" is a female who is not yet capable of making her own decisions, who is still guided by her parents. Parallel to "boy". Those of us in the feminist movement worked very hard to get away from the dismissiveness and sexual connotation of "girl".
So there's my objection. Young women calling each other "chicks" is ok with me only if they refer to all women as chicks. Their friends, women of their mother's generation, their mothers, their grandmothers, and their great-grandmothers. Anyone it's possible to relate to. If they put an age or attractiveness cutoff on the term, then they are sexually objectifying themselves! They should have more respect for themselves.
------------------------------------------
I read an article in the local newspaper some weeks ago about a crow that had died. They think he was the oldest crow on record. (I forget how old he was.) He had fallen out of the nest as a chick, was injured, and had never been able to fly. He'd been raised by a local family, who had passed him down the line. Eventually, the last surviving family member was unable to keep him, so in I believe the 1980s or early 90s, he was given to a family friend. By this time he was very old, and mostly blind.
That's when NY state got involved. As long as members of the original family had him, he'd been "grandfathered", and was not subject to the more recent laws about keeping wild animals. But now that he was with a new family, the laws applied. He was declared a "wild animal", a ward of the state, and the state took him away from the family. The law said that he had to be rehabilitated and released to the wild. But since he couldn't see and couldn't fly and couldn't survive in the wild, the law said that he should be euthanized.
The family got an injunction and then sued the state for return of the bird. No one could believe that the wildlife officials could be so stupid. And this was the way it was presented in the newspaper article.
I remember this case. Of course, the officials weren't really stupid. It was the law that was stupid, they didn't like it either, and this was the perfect case to expose the stupidity of the law. It was the plaintiffs and the defendants combined against the stupid law. The judge gave the bird back to the family, which satisfied the people of the county (who had contributed gazillions to the legal fund), but I never did hear whether the law got changed, which was the real purpose of the lawsuit.
Check this out: http://triggur.livejournal.com/172902.html. Further story at http://www.citypaper.net/articles/2004-08-26/naked2.shtml. Whoop! I wanna work for them!
--------------------------------------
A (young female) blogger asked some time ago for opinions on young women referring to each other, among themselves, as "chicks". I didn't much care for it, but I couldn't put into words why.
This afternoon the TV was on in the background again, and there was a very old (and very bad) movie on. Jane Fonda was playing a character who was definitely mature, late 20s or early 30s perhaps, more than capable of taking care of herself, punching out the bad guys and all. She was also attractive. The bad guys kept referring to her as "the girl". "Where's the girl?" "The girl has the notebook." "You let the girl get away?"
That was the 60s, when men were "men", and women were "girls" - but only if the woman was a sexual object. When she became "too old", or too unattractive, a man would no longer refer to her as a girl, but as a woman. That led to 80-year-old men referring to 70-year-old women as "girls". Jay's father, in his 90s, still calls the 80-something wives of his friends, or the women on his elder hostel tours, "girls". It sounds weird. In my world, a "girl" is a female who is not yet capable of making her own decisions, who is still guided by her parents. Parallel to "boy". Those of us in the feminist movement worked very hard to get away from the dismissiveness and sexual connotation of "girl".
So there's my objection. Young women calling each other "chicks" is ok with me only if they refer to all women as chicks. Their friends, women of their mother's generation, their mothers, their grandmothers, and their great-grandmothers. Anyone it's possible to relate to. If they put an age or attractiveness cutoff on the term, then they are sexually objectifying themselves! They should have more respect for themselves.
------------------------------------------
I read an article in the local newspaper some weeks ago about a crow that had died. They think he was the oldest crow on record. (I forget how old he was.) He had fallen out of the nest as a chick, was injured, and had never been able to fly. He'd been raised by a local family, who had passed him down the line. Eventually, the last surviving family member was unable to keep him, so in I believe the 1980s or early 90s, he was given to a family friend. By this time he was very old, and mostly blind.
That's when NY state got involved. As long as members of the original family had him, he'd been "grandfathered", and was not subject to the more recent laws about keeping wild animals. But now that he was with a new family, the laws applied. He was declared a "wild animal", a ward of the state, and the state took him away from the family. The law said that he had to be rehabilitated and released to the wild. But since he couldn't see and couldn't fly and couldn't survive in the wild, the law said that he should be euthanized.
The family got an injunction and then sued the state for return of the bird. No one could believe that the wildlife officials could be so stupid. And this was the way it was presented in the newspaper article.
I remember this case. Of course, the officials weren't really stupid. It was the law that was stupid, they didn't like it either, and this was the perfect case to expose the stupidity of the law. It was the plaintiffs and the defendants combined against the stupid law. The judge gave the bird back to the family, which satisfied the people of the county (who had contributed gazillions to the legal fund), but I never did hear whether the law got changed, which was the real purpose of the lawsuit.
Friday, July 28, 2006
824 Friday
Friday, July 28, 2006
Congratulate me! I did 45 minutes on the treadmill this morning. Tomorrow morning I have to go to Poughkeepsie and give the credit union a check for the car loan. If I pay it off by the 31st, I don't pay any interest. I'll hit the treadmill again on the way back. I don't think I'll lose that last 20 pounds before Orlando, but I can try.
I did go to Trivia last night, and it was fun. Tom was playing at a mild flirtation. He should be more careful - it's been more than ten weeks since Ricketts Glen, and I'm too hungry for playing.
Congratulate me! I did 45 minutes on the treadmill this morning. Tomorrow morning I have to go to Poughkeepsie and give the credit union a check for the car loan. If I pay it off by the 31st, I don't pay any interest. I'll hit the treadmill again on the way back. I don't think I'll lose that last 20 pounds before Orlando, but I can try.
I did go to Trivia last night, and it was fun. Tom was playing at a mild flirtation. He should be more careful - it's been more than ten weeks since Ricketts Glen, and I'm too hungry for playing.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
823 Where Does the Time Go?
Thursday, July 27, 2006
It looks like maybe no treadmill again today. I decided to clean house a little, and finish the laundry. It's now 4:30 pm. I planned to go to the spa after Big Brother (BB) again today. Between now and BB, I wanted to pay the bills (an hour job usually), wash dishes, eat, and alter some too-big clothing.
But Tom called a few minutes ago and asked if I wanted to go to trivia tonight. I haven't been there in three weeks, and I won't have a chance for another three weeks. I DO want to go.
So now I have to pay the bills, bathe and do my hair, hit the bank and the gas station, set the VCR for BB, and leave here by 7 pm. I thought I'd have time to go to the treadmill first, like right now, but there are sheets in the dryer that will take a while longer to dry, and I never leave the house with the dryer running. The sheets have to go right on the bed, or Miss Thunderfoot will get fur all over the mattress.
Pardon me while I go recalculate the schedule.
Thinking burns almost as much calories as walking, right?
It looks like maybe no treadmill again today. I decided to clean house a little, and finish the laundry. It's now 4:30 pm. I planned to go to the spa after Big Brother (BB) again today. Between now and BB, I wanted to pay the bills (an hour job usually), wash dishes, eat, and alter some too-big clothing.
But Tom called a few minutes ago and asked if I wanted to go to trivia tonight. I haven't been there in three weeks, and I won't have a chance for another three weeks. I DO want to go.
So now I have to pay the bills, bathe and do my hair, hit the bank and the gas station, set the VCR for BB, and leave here by 7 pm. I thought I'd have time to go to the treadmill first, like right now, but there are sheets in the dryer that will take a while longer to dry, and I never leave the house with the dryer running. The sheets have to go right on the bed, or Miss Thunderfoot will get fur all over the mattress.
Pardon me while I go recalculate the schedule.
Thinking burns almost as much calories as walking, right?
822 Scary Movies
'Toonguykc' at "Inner and Outer Demons" asks if we remember a movie from our childhood that scared us then, and that now seems silly.
My comment on his entry:
I had to ride my bicycle home after the movies, alone, in the dark, and it just so happened that the shadow the front fender made in the bike headlight was EXACTLY the same shape as the robot's head. I pedaled faster and faster and couldn't get away from the idea of the robot stalking me.
I think what made robots especially scary then was that they were absolutely emotionless, and impervious to reason. Sorta like my father, now that I think about it....
Until I wrote that comment, I hadn't made the connection. For years after that movie, even into my thirties, (actually, until my father died), that robot was an occasional part of my nightmares. The robot would be passing, and would notice me, and slowly turn, and the shutter would slide up, and it would kill me, and there was no emotion, and no recourse, no reasoning. Just like in real life, my father would be passing, and would notice me, and turn contemplatively, and the shutters would drop in his eyes, and he'd try to kill me, and there was no emotion (he'd feign anger, but it wasn't real), no recourse, no reasoning. I guess somewhere deep down I made the connection of course - and that's why the robot frightened me so much.
My comment on his entry:
*******************
I was 11 in the mid-fifties, the heyday of the alien invasion movies. It was always robots that wreaked havoc. I don't remember the name of the movie (too young, too long ago), but there was one robot with a bullet-shaped head, and a panel that slid up where his eyes would be, and a lethal ray shot out of the eye space. He'd just turn toward you, and the panel would slide slowly up, and no matter how fast you ran, the ray would shoot out and zap you. I had to ride my bicycle home after the movies, alone, in the dark, and it just so happened that the shadow the front fender made in the bike headlight was EXACTLY the same shape as the robot's head. I pedaled faster and faster and couldn't get away from the idea of the robot stalking me.
I think what made robots especially scary then was that they were absolutely emotionless, and impervious to reason. Sorta like my father, now that I think about it....
*******************
Until I wrote that comment, I hadn't made the connection. For years after that movie, even into my thirties, (actually, until my father died), that robot was an occasional part of my nightmares. The robot would be passing, and would notice me, and slowly turn, and the shutter would slide up, and it would kill me, and there was no emotion, and no recourse, no reasoning. Just like in real life, my father would be passing, and would notice me, and turn contemplatively, and the shutters would drop in his eyes, and he'd try to kill me, and there was no emotion (he'd feign anger, but it wasn't real), no recourse, no reasoning. I guess somewhere deep down I made the connection of course - and that's why the robot frightened me so much.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
821 Really Wednesday
Today I had lunch with the Gypsy. She has a lot of work to do this week, too, and since I was still feeling guilty about luring Piper away from his office, after a short lunch I dropped her off at her studio and left.
I went to the Suzuki dealership and picked up my registration. The floor mats and the book haven't come in yet - this could worry one about delays in getting parts. A two week wait for floormats? I've received eBay kimonos directly from Japan in less time.
Then I went searching for a larger cat carrier. Miss Thunderfoot will be going to kitty camp (that's what I tell her, anyway) while I'm in Orlando, and the two carriers I have are too small for her. I don't know what it is around here, but as soon as you locate a particular type of store, it disappears. I used to know where there were two large pet supply stores on the other side of the river, and neither of them is there now. I didn't happen to have a phone book in the car with me, so I wandered. Finally found a large (new!) pet shop in the next village down on this side of the river.
When I got home, I watched a video the Gypsy had given me, and a PBS show about the Andrea Doria, and then I decided to do some laundry.
Roman remarked last night that I seem to be having all kinds of bad luck lately.
The roof leaked, and had to be reshingled.
The damper in the fireplace broke and can't be closed.
Several trees fell down.
The minivan had two flat tires within two months.
The dehumidifier died.
The central air conditioning gave up the ghost.
The minivan got sick.
And now the washing machine won't fill with anything but very hot water. There's only a dribble of cold. Probably a glopped-up cold-water hose, same as the heat pump. Worse, the cold water shutoff valve in the washer is screwed up (probably full of mineral salts), so if you open the tap at the wall, the cold water dribbles - constantly. By the end of a wash cycle, the tub is overflowing. At the end of the spin cycle, the clothes are sopping. So after the laundry room got flooded a few times, I now just leave the cold water shut off at the wall. I don't want to use hot water for most of my clothes, and the rinse cycle (for all selections) is cold water only, so ... there's no rinse.
I've been getting around the problem by hooking up a hose to the utility sink next to the washer, and when the washer wants water, I stick the hose in and manually fill it for the wash and rinse cycles. Not a big deal. It works. Until you wander off and forget that the washer tub is filling. And flood the laundry room and the kitchen. Twice this evening. Not a big deal until you remember that the oriental rugs in the half-bath off the laundry room and in the kitchen are "village" rugs, made with vegetable dyes, and they will bleed and badly stain the floor if you don't get them up immediately. And find someplace that you can lay them out to dry, but where there's no danger of staining anything. Not so easy. Basement floor, I guess. And then you use a whole load of just-washed towels to sop up the water. Twice.
The second time the washer overflowed, I was standing there right next to it, hanging and folding stuff from the dryer. I didn't notice until my feet got wet.
Sigh.
No treadmill again tonight.
I went to the Suzuki dealership and picked up my registration. The floor mats and the book haven't come in yet - this could worry one about delays in getting parts. A two week wait for floormats? I've received eBay kimonos directly from Japan in less time.
Then I went searching for a larger cat carrier. Miss Thunderfoot will be going to kitty camp (that's what I tell her, anyway) while I'm in Orlando, and the two carriers I have are too small for her. I don't know what it is around here, but as soon as you locate a particular type of store, it disappears. I used to know where there were two large pet supply stores on the other side of the river, and neither of them is there now. I didn't happen to have a phone book in the car with me, so I wandered. Finally found a large (new!) pet shop in the next village down on this side of the river.
When I got home, I watched a video the Gypsy had given me, and a PBS show about the Andrea Doria, and then I decided to do some laundry.
Roman remarked last night that I seem to be having all kinds of bad luck lately.
The roof leaked, and had to be reshingled.
The damper in the fireplace broke and can't be closed.
Several trees fell down.
The minivan had two flat tires within two months.
The dehumidifier died.
The central air conditioning gave up the ghost.
The minivan got sick.
And now the washing machine won't fill with anything but very hot water. There's only a dribble of cold. Probably a glopped-up cold-water hose, same as the heat pump. Worse, the cold water shutoff valve in the washer is screwed up (probably full of mineral salts), so if you open the tap at the wall, the cold water dribbles - constantly. By the end of a wash cycle, the tub is overflowing. At the end of the spin cycle, the clothes are sopping. So after the laundry room got flooded a few times, I now just leave the cold water shut off at the wall. I don't want to use hot water for most of my clothes, and the rinse cycle (for all selections) is cold water only, so ... there's no rinse.
I've been getting around the problem by hooking up a hose to the utility sink next to the washer, and when the washer wants water, I stick the hose in and manually fill it for the wash and rinse cycles. Not a big deal. It works. Until you wander off and forget that the washer tub is filling. And flood the laundry room and the kitchen. Twice this evening. Not a big deal until you remember that the oriental rugs in the half-bath off the laundry room and in the kitchen are "village" rugs, made with vegetable dyes, and they will bleed and badly stain the floor if you don't get them up immediately. And find someplace that you can lay them out to dry, but where there's no danger of staining anything. Not so easy. Basement floor, I guess. And then you use a whole load of just-washed towels to sop up the water. Twice.
The second time the washer overflowed, I was standing there right next to it, hanging and folding stuff from the dryer. I didn't notice until my feet got wet.
Sigh.
No treadmill again tonight.
820 Tuesday continued & Wednesday
After lunch with Piper on Tuesday, I came home and decided to take care of that little breakin exposure. But before I fixed it so I, or anybody else, couldn't break into the house, I needed to get some spare keys to distribute. I went to the hardware store in the village, and had three copies made of the front door key. Then I came home and tried them in the door. The first two keys didn't work at all. The third key not only didn't work, it got stuck in the lock.
Screwdriver. Remove doorknob. Take whole mess to hardware store. Surprise - key copying machine is now broken. No kidding. What was the first clue?
They sent me to their sister store in the next village, where the stuck key was pried out of the lock, and three new keys were cut. An advantage of having the doorknob with me, we were able to test them on the spot. Back home, replace doorknob. A three hour job.
I haven't been on the treadmill in two weeks, and stuff like those keys is partly why. Time gets eaten up. The other reason is that after I'm on the treadmill, my hair isn't presentable until I can defrizz it, so I keep putting it off every day until it gets too late.
On the way back from the hardware store, I stopped at the spa and got an electronic key that will get me in after hours - up until 10 pm. That'll be a lot more convenient for me. I figured I'd go home and watch Big Brother (Well, watch Kaysar. The show this season is really boring, and the producers seem to know it, because they've been featuring Kaysar a lot. To keep things interesting, I guess. Works for me) from 8 'til 9, then go to the spa.
At 9:00 I was headed out the door, headed for the treadmill, and the phone rang. It was Daughter. We had a pretty good 25-minute conversation, and hung up in enough time that I could still make it. I was headed out the door, and the phone rang. It was Roman. We had a pretty good conversation, and ... I missed my window. The spa key works only up 'til 10. If you're in by 10, you can stay as long as you want, but you can't get in after 10. Roman and I had talked for over an hour. It didn't seem that long.
Scratch the treadmill. Again.
Screwdriver. Remove doorknob. Take whole mess to hardware store. Surprise - key copying machine is now broken. No kidding. What was the first clue?
They sent me to their sister store in the next village, where the stuck key was pried out of the lock, and three new keys were cut. An advantage of having the doorknob with me, we were able to test them on the spot. Back home, replace doorknob. A three hour job.
I haven't been on the treadmill in two weeks, and stuff like those keys is partly why. Time gets eaten up. The other reason is that after I'm on the treadmill, my hair isn't presentable until I can defrizz it, so I keep putting it off every day until it gets too late.
On the way back from the hardware store, I stopped at the spa and got an electronic key that will get me in after hours - up until 10 pm. That'll be a lot more convenient for me. I figured I'd go home and watch Big Brother (Well, watch Kaysar. The show this season is really boring, and the producers seem to know it, because they've been featuring Kaysar a lot. To keep things interesting, I guess. Works for me) from 8 'til 9, then go to the spa.
At 9:00 I was headed out the door, headed for the treadmill, and the phone rang. It was Daughter. We had a pretty good 25-minute conversation, and hung up in enough time that I could still make it. I was headed out the door, and the phone rang. It was Roman. We had a pretty good conversation, and ... I missed my window. The spa key works only up 'til 10. If you're in by 10, you can stay as long as you want, but you can't get in after 10. Roman and I had talked for over an hour. It didn't seem that long.
Scratch the treadmill. Again.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
819 Piper's House
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Three-hour lunch with Piper today, and I feel a little guilty about it because he has a lot of work this week. Actually, lunch wasn't that long, but on the way back he wanted to stop at his home and pick up some papers, so I finally got to see his house.
It was pretty incredible. As he's said, it's not a large house, but it looks, inside and out, like something out of a magazine. The grounds are beautifully landscaped, every plant carefully selected and in exactly the right spot, truckloads of black mulch. Split-rail fences. Wide wrap-around deck, with classy comfortable outdoor furniture.
Inside it was like something out of a magazine. Every single piece of furniture, lamps, pillows, was top of the line and obviously carefully selected. Every item on tables or shelves was individually selected and arranged for effect. The kitchen counters were not only uncluttered, but there was no sign that the kitchen was for anything but looking at - no sponge at the sink, no dishtowels, no utensils next to the stove. Same with the bathrooms - no personal grooming items in evidence. Items arranged for show. It really truly looked like it was set up for a photo spread. The bed in the master bedroom had all those fancy pillows at the top, and I couldn't help saying "Oh, come on! Nobody REALLY does that!" The house didn't look like it was for living in.
That's not how I see Piper. I suspect it's entirely his lady. I haven't met her yet, but if that's representative of her personality, I'm not sure I want to.
I also got to meet Piper's dog. It's one of those cute little wiggly long-haired pug-nosed thingies. I picked him up and got thoroughly licked. His name is the same as Roman's real name, which is a common unsophisticated name, like "George". I can't imagine anyone naming one of those doggies "George". Very strange.
Surreal, even.
----------------------------------------
I had saved at this point, then I came back and wrote more, about the locks, and phone calls, and stuff, and then my browser crashed and I lost it all. It's now 1:12 am, and I'm too tired to do it all over again. Maybe tomorrow.
Three-hour lunch with Piper today, and I feel a little guilty about it because he has a lot of work this week. Actually, lunch wasn't that long, but on the way back he wanted to stop at his home and pick up some papers, so I finally got to see his house.
It was pretty incredible. As he's said, it's not a large house, but it looks, inside and out, like something out of a magazine. The grounds are beautifully landscaped, every plant carefully selected and in exactly the right spot, truckloads of black mulch. Split-rail fences. Wide wrap-around deck, with classy comfortable outdoor furniture.
Inside it was like something out of a magazine. Every single piece of furniture, lamps, pillows, was top of the line and obviously carefully selected. Every item on tables or shelves was individually selected and arranged for effect. The kitchen counters were not only uncluttered, but there was no sign that the kitchen was for anything but looking at - no sponge at the sink, no dishtowels, no utensils next to the stove. Same with the bathrooms - no personal grooming items in evidence. Items arranged for show. It really truly looked like it was set up for a photo spread. The bed in the master bedroom had all those fancy pillows at the top, and I couldn't help saying "Oh, come on! Nobody REALLY does that!" The house didn't look like it was for living in.
That's not how I see Piper. I suspect it's entirely his lady. I haven't met her yet, but if that's representative of her personality, I'm not sure I want to.
I also got to meet Piper's dog. It's one of those cute little wiggly long-haired pug-nosed thingies. I picked him up and got thoroughly licked. His name is the same as Roman's real name, which is a common unsophisticated name, like "George". I can't imagine anyone naming one of those doggies "George". Very strange.
Surreal, even.
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I had saved at this point, then I came back and wrote more, about the locks, and phone calls, and stuff, and then my browser crashed and I lost it all. It's now 1:12 am, and I'm too tired to do it all over again. Maybe tomorrow.
Monday, July 24, 2006
818 Maritime Monday
Monday, July 24, 2006
I got a call shortly after I woke up this morning. Whoever was supposed to ride the register at the Maritime Museum today wasn't able to come in, so could I? So I did.
We had an unusual number of visitors for a Monday. There was a group of about thirty urban 15-year-olds with a bunch of adult chaperones, a family from Columbia, SA, a mother and daughter from Seattle who were collecting lighthouse visit stamps in some kind of lighthouse association "passport" book, and several other couples.
There are some displays on the grounds, but we keep the back door, the door to the docks, locked so people from the boats can't just wander in. You can get out that door, but to get back into the museum, you have to go through the gate in the fence and come back in through the front door. I looked out the window to check the gate when I first arrived, and the gate was open. I was telling people that after they finished touring the museum, they should go out that door and see the sailboats and the tug boat in the back.
So all these people were going out the back door to the fenced area. Imagine my embarrassment when I discovered that someone had closed and padlocked the gate (who? There was no one there but me), trapping everyone in the back yard. My first clue was when I heard a couple open the back door to go out, and I heard someone outside yell "Don't let the door close!" ... slam ... click ....
Note to self - find out where the padlock key is kept.
The volunteer coordinator came in to close up, and she was surprised when the cash register receipts balanced. Apparently, that's highly unusual.
I got a call shortly after I woke up this morning. Whoever was supposed to ride the register at the Maritime Museum today wasn't able to come in, so could I? So I did.
We had an unusual number of visitors for a Monday. There was a group of about thirty urban 15-year-olds with a bunch of adult chaperones, a family from Columbia, SA, a mother and daughter from Seattle who were collecting lighthouse visit stamps in some kind of lighthouse association "passport" book, and several other couples.
There are some displays on the grounds, but we keep the back door, the door to the docks, locked so people from the boats can't just wander in. You can get out that door, but to get back into the museum, you have to go through the gate in the fence and come back in through the front door. I looked out the window to check the gate when I first arrived, and the gate was open. I was telling people that after they finished touring the museum, they should go out that door and see the sailboats and the tug boat in the back.
So all these people were going out the back door to the fenced area. Imagine my embarrassment when I discovered that someone had closed and padlocked the gate (who? There was no one there but me), trapping everyone in the back yard. My first clue was when I heard a couple open the back door to go out, and I heard someone outside yell "Don't let the door close!" ... slam ... click ....
Note to self - find out where the padlock key is kept.
The volunteer coordinator came in to close up, and she was surprised when the cash register receipts balanced. Apparently, that's highly unusual.
817 You May Now Kiss the Bride
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(Blurry enough that Daughter won't be annoyed with me for posting it, I think.)
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Sunday, July 23, 2006
816 Dance Photos, 4 of 4
[Later Edit - Yes, this is Daughters of Ishtar, not Alchemy.]
I think this might be the Alchemy Dance Theater, but then again it might be Daughters of Ishtar (help?) Whatever. The have the prettiest cholis (tops). They look like they might be made from sari silk.
At one point (before the rain) I was looking at some belts one of the vendors had, and she asked if I was a dancer. I laughed and said "Once upon a time, 30 years ago." She (a youngster) said "Wow! I bet the dance has changed a lot since then." I said yes, it has.
It has probably changed more in the past 40 years than in the preceeding 2,000 years. Movies and tourism have had their effect.
There are subtle things. When you look at the photo above, the ladies are doing a hip (lift and) thrust, and the way they are doing it looks very nice. But back in my day, isolation was all. We would not have leaned the upper body like that. We would have got the same hip extension, but we'd keep the shoulders parallel to the floor, and the rib cage perpendicular to the floor. When we did hip movements, the upper body was kept out of it. Nowadays, there's more flow.
Willow was supposed to dance early in the evening, but when she was asked if she'd like to dance, she declined. So, near the end, when she decided to dance after all, I'd used up all my film. These are photos 25 and 26 on a 24-shot roll. As often as I have seen her dance, I never had a camera with me before, and this time I did, and I was still caught short. And they are terrible pictures. Oh, well, photos never do her justice anyway. You have to see her move.
This is an example of how NOT to photograph a bellydancer - catch her in the middle of a belly roll.
Her floor work is incredible, but she was dancing on a squishy sopping carpet, so no one expected her to go to the floor, but suddenly she leaned back, and we all held our breath, and whoop! She did a turkish drop right into the wetness. Audience pleaser to the core.
I think this might be the Alchemy Dance Theater, but then again it might be Daughters of Ishtar (help?) Whatever. The have the prettiest cholis (tops). They look like they might be made from sari silk.
At one point (before the rain) I was looking at some belts one of the vendors had, and she asked if I was a dancer. I laughed and said "Once upon a time, 30 years ago." She (a youngster) said "Wow! I bet the dance has changed a lot since then." I said yes, it has.It has probably changed more in the past 40 years than in the preceeding 2,000 years. Movies and tourism have had their effect.
There are subtle things. When you look at the photo above, the ladies are doing a hip (lift and) thrust, and the way they are doing it looks very nice. But back in my day, isolation was all. We would not have leaned the upper body like that. We would have got the same hip extension, but we'd keep the shoulders parallel to the floor, and the rib cage perpendicular to the floor. When we did hip movements, the upper body was kept out of it. Nowadays, there's more flow.
Willow was supposed to dance early in the evening, but when she was asked if she'd like to dance, she declined. So, near the end, when she decided to dance after all, I'd used up all my film. These are photos 25 and 26 on a 24-shot roll. As often as I have seen her dance, I never had a camera with me before, and this time I did, and I was still caught short. And they are terrible pictures. Oh, well, photos never do her justice anyway. You have to see her move.
This is an example of how NOT to photograph a bellydancer - catch her in the middle of a belly roll.
Her floor work is incredible, but she was dancing on a squishy sopping carpet, so no one expected her to go to the floor, but suddenly she leaned back, and we all held our breath, and whoop! She did a turkish drop right into the wetness. Audience pleaser to the core.
815 Dance Photos, 3 of 4
[Later Edit - the photos of the women in black, following, are in fact Alchemy Dance Theater.]
The band. That's Carmine Guida on the left. The drummer with the black box over his head is a kid (that's why I put the black box on him), 11 or 12 I think, who is absolutely fantastic. Goes off on riffs of his own that amaze everyone.
I'm not absolutely sure, but I believe this is the Daughters of Ishtar. (I may have Alchemy and Ishtar mixed up - somebody correct me if I've got them confused.) I don't have a link for them - searching for Daughters of Ishtar gets many hits, and I'm not sure which is the correct one, so if anyone can help with that, leave a comment.
Note the umbrella keeping Perizad dry, and the "spotlight" Barushka is holding. The show must go on!!!!!
The band. That's Carmine Guida on the left. The drummer with the black box over his head is a kid (that's why I put the black box on him), 11 or 12 I think, who is absolutely fantastic. Goes off on riffs of his own that amaze everyone.
I'm not absolutely sure, but I believe this is the Daughters of Ishtar. (I may have Alchemy and Ishtar mixed up - somebody correct me if I've got them confused.) I don't have a link for them - searching for Daughters of Ishtar gets many hits, and I'm not sure which is the correct one, so if anyone can help with that, leave a comment.
Note the umbrella keeping Perizad dry, and the "spotlight" Barushka is holding. The show must go on!!!!!
814 Dance Photos, 2 of 4
This is Barushka, the hostess and organizer of the event. I'm afraid the second photo caught her in a less flattering position, but damn! She kept MOVING! (Cool!)
This is Serpentessa (and her friend). She was the first to dance, before the skies opened. The flash didn't go off for the second photo, but I included it anyway because it's still a nice picture.
This is Serpentessa (and her friend). She was the first to dance, before the skies opened. The flash didn't go off for the second photo, but I included it anyway because it's still a nice picture.
813 Dance Photos, 1 of 4
As promised, photos from the Tribal Bonfire hafla, last night.
This is Perizad (in the black and gold) and two members of her troupe Twisted Tassels, one of my favorite troupes to watch. They are and have so much fun. They're dancing on sopping wet carpet in the carport, during the storm I mentioned in entry #809.
This is Perizad (in the black and gold) and two members of her troupe Twisted Tassels, one of my favorite troupes to watch. They are and have so much fun. They're dancing on sopping wet carpet in the carport, during the storm I mentioned in entry #809.
812 Daughter and Hercules Are Married!
Daughter and Leading-Candidate-for-Son-In-Law are married. Ta-Rah!
They managed a sort-of elopement this afternoon. Her father and his mother were there as their witnesses. They called me just before the ceremony, and kept the phone open so I could hear, but something went wrong (why do I suspect her father, Ex#2, was holding the cell phone?) and all I could hear were a few slightly louder words, and somebody breathing. But there will be a video on their website soon, so I can eventually see it. (If I had a computer and a connection that could handle videos, that is....)
Now I have to come up with something other than "Leading-Candidate-for-Son-In-Law". I could use "Leading-Candidate-for-Father-of-My-Grandchildren", I suppose. Just plain "Son-In-Law" is so ... just plain.
Besides, I have this need to throw hints.
They managed a sort-of elopement this afternoon. Her father and his mother were there as their witnesses. They called me just before the ceremony, and kept the phone open so I could hear, but something went wrong (why do I suspect her father, Ex#2, was holding the cell phone?) and all I could hear were a few slightly louder words, and somebody breathing. But there will be a video on their website soon, so I can eventually see it. (If I had a computer and a connection that could handle videos, that is....)
Now I have to come up with something other than "Leading-Candidate-for-Son-In-Law". I could use "Leading-Candidate-for-Father-of-My-Grandchildren", I suppose. Just plain "Son-In-Law" is so ... just plain.
Besides, I have this need to throw hints.
811 A Confession, and more "English"
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Used to be, when I had a certain problem, I'd eat an orange. An orange took care of it, usually within 6 or 8 hours, especially if I nibbled some of the peel, too.
Over the last two years, I've discovered something faster. Starbucks Frappuccino (in the little glass bottle in every deli and gas station) works better, and it invariably works within 20 minutes. I can actually feel the stuff moving through.
So lately, I use it not only when I have the rare problem, but if I'll be driving a few hours, or going somewhere where a restroom won't be available, I'll drink a bottle a half hour before I leave the house. Potential problem ... um ... eliminated.
I don't know how the subject came up, but I was surprised to hear that it has the same effect on Daughter.
Anyone else find that Starbucks Frappuccino has an immediate laxative effect?
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Speaking of rest rooms, that reminds me of another "speak English" story. On that 1987 trip, Daughter and I were waiting for a train in a Welsh village. We needed a bathroom. I walked up to a uniformed man in the station and asked him where the rest room was. He said "We don't have a rest room, but there's a bench out by the tracks. You can use that."
Daughter and I looked at each other, shrugged, went outside, and sure enough, there was a bench on the apron. We looked at the bench, we looked at each other, and we laughed. Daughter said she didn't care what he said, she wasn't going to use it!
Of course, he had interpreted "rest room" as "waiting room". We should have asked for "the toilet". But in the US, the word "toilet" is never used in polite company except in the context of buying, repairing, or replacing the ceramic unit. One never implies actually sitting on one. The room it's in is the bathroom (even if there's no tub), the lavatory, the men's or ladies' room, or, most politely, the rest room. Among informal friends, one might ask for the throne room, the john, or the potty. But anyone who asks for the toilet would be viewed as rather crude.
It's that mental image. (Oops - sorry....)
Used to be, when I had a certain problem, I'd eat an orange. An orange took care of it, usually within 6 or 8 hours, especially if I nibbled some of the peel, too.
Over the last two years, I've discovered something faster. Starbucks Frappuccino (in the little glass bottle in every deli and gas station) works better, and it invariably works within 20 minutes. I can actually feel the stuff moving through.
So lately, I use it not only when I have the rare problem, but if I'll be driving a few hours, or going somewhere where a restroom won't be available, I'll drink a bottle a half hour before I leave the house. Potential problem ... um ... eliminated.
I don't know how the subject came up, but I was surprised to hear that it has the same effect on Daughter.
Anyone else find that Starbucks Frappuccino has an immediate laxative effect?
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Speaking of rest rooms, that reminds me of another "speak English" story. On that 1987 trip, Daughter and I were waiting for a train in a Welsh village. We needed a bathroom. I walked up to a uniformed man in the station and asked him where the rest room was. He said "We don't have a rest room, but there's a bench out by the tracks. You can use that."
Daughter and I looked at each other, shrugged, went outside, and sure enough, there was a bench on the apron. We looked at the bench, we looked at each other, and we laughed. Daughter said she didn't care what he said, she wasn't going to use it!
Of course, he had interpreted "rest room" as "waiting room". We should have asked for "the toilet". But in the US, the word "toilet" is never used in polite company except in the context of buying, repairing, or replacing the ceramic unit. One never implies actually sitting on one. The room it's in is the bathroom (even if there's no tub), the lavatory, the men's or ladies' room, or, most politely, the rest room. Among informal friends, one might ask for the throne room, the john, or the potty. But anyone who asks for the toilet would be viewed as rather crude.
It's that mental image. (Oops - sorry....)
810 I Do Too Speak English!
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Herlock Sholmes has an amusing post on a recent language difficulty. It reminded me of the time I had a similar problem in England.
I speak English. What's the problem?
It was 1987. Great Britain wasn't as "Americanized" then as it seems to be now. Daughter and I were driving through tiny villages on our way from London to Wales, after having spent two weeks on a houseboat on the canals. Daughter was 12 years old, and had had her ears pierced just before we left the US, and I guess from the damp on the canals, her piercings had gotten infected. The pamphlet we had been given said to use rubbing alcohol to disinfect the earlobes and earrings.
So we set out to find a drug store and alcohol.
It wasn't easy. I kept asking people on the streets "Excuse me, ma'am, where can I find a drug store?" Most people just looked at me strangely, and said they didn't know. And then backed away from me. One woman, when I asked for a druggist, reared back and said in disgust, "We don't do that sort of thing around here!" She got really huffy when I explained that I wanted to get alcohol for my daughter. She told me I was a bad parent, and didn't deserve to have a child.
Three villages later, when I was very frustrated, I finally found a woman who laughed and explained that I wanted a "chemist", not a drug store. A seller of drugs is something quite different.
So we finally found a chemist shop. I looked on the shelves a bit, and couldn't find rubbing alcohol, so I went to the counter and asked. "I need alcohol. Where would I find it?"
The clerk directed me to the local pub.
It turns out what I wanted was medicinal spirits from a chemist, not alcohol from a drug store.
Herlock Sholmes has an amusing post on a recent language difficulty. It reminded me of the time I had a similar problem in England.
I speak English. What's the problem?
It was 1987. Great Britain wasn't as "Americanized" then as it seems to be now. Daughter and I were driving through tiny villages on our way from London to Wales, after having spent two weeks on a houseboat on the canals. Daughter was 12 years old, and had had her ears pierced just before we left the US, and I guess from the damp on the canals, her piercings had gotten infected. The pamphlet we had been given said to use rubbing alcohol to disinfect the earlobes and earrings.
So we set out to find a drug store and alcohol.
It wasn't easy. I kept asking people on the streets "Excuse me, ma'am, where can I find a drug store?" Most people just looked at me strangely, and said they didn't know. And then backed away from me. One woman, when I asked for a druggist, reared back and said in disgust, "We don't do that sort of thing around here!" She got really huffy when I explained that I wanted to get alcohol for my daughter. She told me I was a bad parent, and didn't deserve to have a child.
Three villages later, when I was very frustrated, I finally found a woman who laughed and explained that I wanted a "chemist", not a drug store. A seller of drugs is something quite different.
So we finally found a chemist shop. I looked on the shelves a bit, and couldn't find rubbing alcohol, so I went to the counter and asked. "I need alcohol. Where would I find it?"
The clerk directed me to the local pub.
It turns out what I wanted was medicinal spirits from a chemist, not alcohol from a drug store.
809 Yup. Rain Dance!
Late Saturday night, July 22, 2006
I went to the hafla. There was a mid-eastern caterer, and the food was very good. There was a pool, and I was very tempted to go in, in my clothes. A few of the dancers and vendors didn't show up because of the chance of rain. It was a small crowd. Very small, actually. But there was very little space for parking, so there couldn't have been many more people, anyway.
The band had set up on the lawn, where the dancers were to perform. The show area was ringed with citronella torches, and it was kind of pretty.
Serpentessa danced first, and then suddenly, almost the instant she finished, the sky turned black. A few drops of rain fell, and the oud player said that he couldn't have the amplifier out there in the rain, and someone said "Oh, it's just a few drops", and then the sky fell down. Very heavy rain. So sudden that most people got soaked running for the carport.
As it turned out, a large three-car carport is not a bad venue, except that the only light was a motion-detector, outside the carport shining in. The audience was arranged around the sides and back, so mostly they watched silhouettes. I stood at the outer opening, so I could see the costumes, which meant I was half under the eaves, and the rain was pouring off the roof. I had my biggest golf umbrella, but it got so wet that it didn't "umber" any more. The water ran down the shaft and down my left arm. What I didn't realize was that it was dripping off the point of my 3/4 sleeve, right into my purse. Bleck.
The light kept going off, until some little kids in bathing suits ran back and forth in the downpour in front of the light.
I left about 9, when they started open dance. The Gypsy, The Pixie, and The Dark Prince were leaving then, too, and although I did know a few others there, I didn't know them well. I was soaked and cold. There was supposed to be a fire dance later, and I love the fire dance, but I couldn't see that happening in the carport, and although the rain did taper off a bit it didn't look like it was going to quit.
What's a fire dance? Have you ever seen the Hawaiian dance with the puff balls on cords, where they whirl them around every which way while they dance? Like that, only the balls are on fire. Pretty cool in the dark.
Photos tomorrow. (Well, given the time, later today.)
I went to the hafla. There was a mid-eastern caterer, and the food was very good. There was a pool, and I was very tempted to go in, in my clothes. A few of the dancers and vendors didn't show up because of the chance of rain. It was a small crowd. Very small, actually. But there was very little space for parking, so there couldn't have been many more people, anyway.
The band had set up on the lawn, where the dancers were to perform. The show area was ringed with citronella torches, and it was kind of pretty.
Serpentessa danced first, and then suddenly, almost the instant she finished, the sky turned black. A few drops of rain fell, and the oud player said that he couldn't have the amplifier out there in the rain, and someone said "Oh, it's just a few drops", and then the sky fell down. Very heavy rain. So sudden that most people got soaked running for the carport.
As it turned out, a large three-car carport is not a bad venue, except that the only light was a motion-detector, outside the carport shining in. The audience was arranged around the sides and back, so mostly they watched silhouettes. I stood at the outer opening, so I could see the costumes, which meant I was half under the eaves, and the rain was pouring off the roof. I had my biggest golf umbrella, but it got so wet that it didn't "umber" any more. The water ran down the shaft and down my left arm. What I didn't realize was that it was dripping off the point of my 3/4 sleeve, right into my purse. Bleck.
The light kept going off, until some little kids in bathing suits ran back and forth in the downpour in front of the light.
I left about 9, when they started open dance. The Gypsy, The Pixie, and The Dark Prince were leaving then, too, and although I did know a few others there, I didn't know them well. I was soaked and cold. There was supposed to be a fire dance later, and I love the fire dance, but I couldn't see that happening in the carport, and although the rain did taper off a bit it didn't look like it was going to quit.
What's a fire dance? Have you ever seen the Hawaiian dance with the puff balls on cords, where they whirl them around every which way while they dance? Like that, only the balls are on fire. Pretty cool in the dark.
Photos tomorrow. (Well, given the time, later today.)
Saturday, July 22, 2006
808 Rain Dance
I want to go to an outdoor Tribal Bonfire Hafla this evening, but it's raining hard, and I don't know if or when it will stop.
I'm also shutting down and unplugging immediately - the electricity is playing games.
I'm also shutting down and unplugging immediately - the electricity is playing games.
Friday, July 21, 2006
807 Friday
Friday, July 21, 2006
I just noticed that I've got two entries numbered 806. Fooey. Deal with it.
I went to the monthly Third Thursday dinner last night. Roman and I were the only ones to show up, so we had a nice slow relaxing three hour dinner and conversation. If I didn't know that the usual other attendees are socially dense, I'd think they knew we'd been having problems, and left us alone on purpose. We're friends again, I think.
It's pouring rain, so dense I can't see across the driveway. Miss Thunderfoot ran for the basement to hide. Storms don't usually bother her, but I guess the (slightly) open windows let more of the sound in.
I went across the river today. Visited the Gypsy at her studio, bought some underwear at Wal-Mart (in order to put off doing laundry for another week), forgot to stop at the Suzuki dealer to pick up my registration and floor mats, and decided not to go to the Maritime Museum to see the science ship that's been docked there this week. It's supposed to be very interesting, but the storm was coming, so I skipped it.
I read an article somewhere recently that said the smaller the animal, the less likely it is to go extinct. People are getting bigger. Someday my genes will be appreciated!
No funding for stem cell research? I don't quite understand the logic that finds a few cells with the potential to grow into a human so very valuable, but as soon as those cells turn 18 and we can put a uniform on them, they become expendable.
I just noticed that I've got two entries numbered 806. Fooey. Deal with it.
I went to the monthly Third Thursday dinner last night. Roman and I were the only ones to show up, so we had a nice slow relaxing three hour dinner and conversation. If I didn't know that the usual other attendees are socially dense, I'd think they knew we'd been having problems, and left us alone on purpose. We're friends again, I think.
It's pouring rain, so dense I can't see across the driveway. Miss Thunderfoot ran for the basement to hide. Storms don't usually bother her, but I guess the (slightly) open windows let more of the sound in.
I went across the river today. Visited the Gypsy at her studio, bought some underwear at Wal-Mart (in order to put off doing laundry for another week), forgot to stop at the Suzuki dealer to pick up my registration and floor mats, and decided not to go to the Maritime Museum to see the science ship that's been docked there this week. It's supposed to be very interesting, but the storm was coming, so I skipped it.
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I read an article somewhere recently that said the smaller the animal, the less likely it is to go extinct. People are getting bigger. Someday my genes will be appreciated!
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No funding for stem cell research? I don't quite understand the logic that finds a few cells with the potential to grow into a human so very valuable, but as soon as those cells turn 18 and we can put a uniform on them, they become expendable.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
806 The Photo of the Israeli Children Writing on the Shells
If you've seen the photographs of the Israeli children writing on the tank shells, please read this post by Lisa Goldman. She explains what was going on. Simple photographs don't always tell the whole story.
806 Wasps
After my complaint about how rain pours in through the minivan windows, I bought shields that go over the windows and divert the water. I installed one over each front side window this afternoon. We're supposed to get rain tonight, so I was thinking that if I put the covers on, I could leave the windows cracked a bit without having to worry. That would be nice.
While I was working on the van, I saw paper wasps going in and out of the gap between the side mirrors and the housing. Damn! Every once in a while when I fill the gas tank, I open the hatch to a nest. Or if I haven't opened the passenger side or a back door in a while, I'll find nests in the door frame.
If I leave the windows open a crack, how long will it be before I find a nest under the dashboard, or the brake pedal?
Any ideas how I can prevent wasps taking over the vehicles? (I noticed them checking out all the cracks and openings on the Aerio, too.) Think maybe if I move the car, park it in a different spot on the driveway or lawn every day, they'll "lose" it? (If I don't just move them with it....)
Oh, speaking of brake pedals, the Chrysler/Dodge folks worked on the minivan's brakes last week. Now there's something sticky-oily on the driveway under the passenger-side wheel works. Sigh. Pardon me while I go stick some cardboard under it so I can see what color it is and if it's still doing it. I'm really tired of this.
While I was working on the van, I saw paper wasps going in and out of the gap between the side mirrors and the housing. Damn! Every once in a while when I fill the gas tank, I open the hatch to a nest. Or if I haven't opened the passenger side or a back door in a while, I'll find nests in the door frame.
If I leave the windows open a crack, how long will it be before I find a nest under the dashboard, or the brake pedal?
Any ideas how I can prevent wasps taking over the vehicles? (I noticed them checking out all the cracks and openings on the Aerio, too.) Think maybe if I move the car, park it in a different spot on the driveway or lawn every day, they'll "lose" it? (If I don't just move them with it....)
Oh, speaking of brake pedals, the Chrysler/Dodge folks worked on the minivan's brakes last week. Now there's something sticky-oily on the driveway under the passenger-side wheel works. Sigh. Pardon me while I go stick some cardboard under it so I can see what color it is and if it's still doing it. I'm really tired of this.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
805 Rest in Peace?
I've been having trouble with the internet connection over the past few days. First it was extremely slow. This usually means that the folks I dial in to are futzing around with something, and it usually gets better eventually. Yesterday it was marginally faster, but both Netscape and Firefox were program checking ("illegal operation") and crashing regularly.
Today both browsers are dying intermittently, but that's not the most troubling. I was reading a page on a site that I KNOW does NOT have music, and suddenly my speakers burst out with song - multiple voices singing "... something something something, rest in peace" and then it stopped.
I'm still clicking away here, but something's weird. I'll run a scan in a few minutes. If I disappear for a while, you'll know why. (Internet cafe? What's an internet cafe? They have them in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, but not around here.)
Today both browsers are dying intermittently, but that's not the most troubling. I was reading a page on a site that I KNOW does NOT have music, and suddenly my speakers burst out with song - multiple voices singing "... something something something, rest in peace" and then it stopped.
I'm still clicking away here, but something's weird. I'll run a scan in a few minutes. If I disappear for a while, you'll know why. (Internet cafe? What's an internet cafe? They have them in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, but not around here.)
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
804 Walks, Hawks, Looks, and Locks
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
I foolishly though it would be cooler in the woods for our walk last evening. It wasn't. It was merely more humid. The sweat poured off us. I was surprised and grateful that I didn't poop out on the steep parts. We got back to the cars at 8 pm, and the temperature was 96 then.
I stopped at the grocery store on my way home, and when I came out, my glasses steamed up so badly I couldn't see to cross the parking lot. I haven't experienced that since St. Louis, when both the temperature and humidity were 100, and water would condense on your whole body when you walked out of air conditioning.
Speaking of which, it's 9 pm and 88 degrees right here in my den, and the attic fan and the (inadequate, semi-broken) air conditioner have been running steadily. We, here, are not used to this, folks.
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I was awakened at 8 this morning by screaming in the woods.
I open the bathroom window before I go to bed, and the past few mornings I've been jolted awake by "Kweeeeeeeeeuh! Kweeeeeeeeeuh! Kweeeeeeeeeuh! ..." I had assumed it was a bird, but last evening on the walk, we had heard a series of loud "hurrugh!" noises that we at first thought was a bird, but by the third one we realized it was a buck, making a warning call. So this morning I realized that the sound I'm hearing is very similar to the sound a fawn in distress will make. And right outside the bathroom window is where a particular doe parks her fawns for the day. I had visions of a fawn tangled in wire or something, out there crying.
I got dressed real fast and went out.
It was hawks. There's a red-tailed couple who nest on the hill, and apparently they're trying to encourage some fledglings to fly and hunt with them. They're yelling back and forth at each other. It seems a bit late in the year, but maybe all the rain we've had has delayed the training. Nice, but disappointing. I kind of liked the idea of rescuing a fawn.
----------------------------------------
When I got home last night, I had checked out another online dating site, one I'd just heard of. I found out where all the local men are hiding! On six other sites, I never find more than 5 men in my age group within 50 miles. Last night I found 40 !!! single men within 30 !!! miles who meet my criteria. Incredible! I had to register to look at any profiles, and the site automatically built a profile for me, containing nothing more than my age and location, and I got three hits within the first half hour just on that. (I had a mental image - we used to sit on the deck at Mariner's Harbor and drop bread into the water, and watch the fish feeding frenzy.)
So I spent some time this morning uploading pictures, filling out the profile, and responding to messages. Unfortunately, so far most of my volunteer suitors are too far away, too young, or too old. In my more paranoid moments, I wonder if all these local guys have seen me on the street or something, and they're running away.
-----------------------------------------
Early this afternoon I left the house for a quick trip to the deli. I took only a little money and the minivan key.
Yup. I locked myself out. (Hey Lucie! It's contagious!) Enough money for an iced coffee and a BLT. A van key that had been removed from the main key ring because of servicing. No open windows. No cell phone, no purse, no nutthin'. And dressed in grungies, no makeup, and probably smelling strongly.
I went to a neighbor's house, and she let me use her phone to call a locksmith, who was unable to come, but told me to call the police. I called the village police, and they told me they couldn't come out of the village, but to try the county police. I called the county police, and they told me that they can break into cars, but they don't break into houses. I called the only other locksmith within 20 miles on this side of the river, and the woman said she'd try to get hold of the technician, he's out on calls, she'll call me back.
So I borrowed a certain item from the neighbor. I'm not going to tell you what it was, or how I used it, or what I used it on, but once I decided where to start, it took me 10 seconds to get into the house. Faster and cheaper than a locksmith.
I gotta buy me a dog. Or fix that little exposure, AFTER I stow a spare key outside the house somewhere. Or both.
I met the neighbor in the street, as she was coming over to tell me that the locksmith wouldn't be able to come today. I returned her item, and taught her how to use it in case she ever had the same problem.
I foolishly though it would be cooler in the woods for our walk last evening. It wasn't. It was merely more humid. The sweat poured off us. I was surprised and grateful that I didn't poop out on the steep parts. We got back to the cars at 8 pm, and the temperature was 96 then.
I stopped at the grocery store on my way home, and when I came out, my glasses steamed up so badly I couldn't see to cross the parking lot. I haven't experienced that since St. Louis, when both the temperature and humidity were 100, and water would condense on your whole body when you walked out of air conditioning.
Speaking of which, it's 9 pm and 88 degrees right here in my den, and the attic fan and the (inadequate, semi-broken) air conditioner have been running steadily. We, here, are not used to this, folks.
----------------------------------------
I was awakened at 8 this morning by screaming in the woods.
I open the bathroom window before I go to bed, and the past few mornings I've been jolted awake by "Kweeeeeeeeeuh! Kweeeeeeeeeuh! Kweeeeeeeeeuh! ..." I had assumed it was a bird, but last evening on the walk, we had heard a series of loud "hurrugh!" noises that we at first thought was a bird, but by the third one we realized it was a buck, making a warning call. So this morning I realized that the sound I'm hearing is very similar to the sound a fawn in distress will make. And right outside the bathroom window is where a particular doe parks her fawns for the day. I had visions of a fawn tangled in wire or something, out there crying.
I got dressed real fast and went out.
It was hawks. There's a red-tailed couple who nest on the hill, and apparently they're trying to encourage some fledglings to fly and hunt with them. They're yelling back and forth at each other. It seems a bit late in the year, but maybe all the rain we've had has delayed the training. Nice, but disappointing. I kind of liked the idea of rescuing a fawn.
----------------------------------------
When I got home last night, I had checked out another online dating site, one I'd just heard of. I found out where all the local men are hiding! On six other sites, I never find more than 5 men in my age group within 50 miles. Last night I found 40 !!! single men within 30 !!! miles who meet my criteria. Incredible! I had to register to look at any profiles, and the site automatically built a profile for me, containing nothing more than my age and location, and I got three hits within the first half hour just on that. (I had a mental image - we used to sit on the deck at Mariner's Harbor and drop bread into the water, and watch the fish feeding frenzy.)
So I spent some time this morning uploading pictures, filling out the profile, and responding to messages. Unfortunately, so far most of my volunteer suitors are too far away, too young, or too old. In my more paranoid moments, I wonder if all these local guys have seen me on the street or something, and they're running away.
-----------------------------------------
Early this afternoon I left the house for a quick trip to the deli. I took only a little money and the minivan key.
Yup. I locked myself out. (Hey Lucie! It's contagious!) Enough money for an iced coffee and a BLT. A van key that had been removed from the main key ring because of servicing. No open windows. No cell phone, no purse, no nutthin'. And dressed in grungies, no makeup, and probably smelling strongly.
I went to a neighbor's house, and she let me use her phone to call a locksmith, who was unable to come, but told me to call the police. I called the village police, and they told me they couldn't come out of the village, but to try the county police. I called the county police, and they told me that they can break into cars, but they don't break into houses. I called the only other locksmith within 20 miles on this side of the river, and the woman said she'd try to get hold of the technician, he's out on calls, she'll call me back.
So I borrowed a certain item from the neighbor. I'm not going to tell you what it was, or how I used it, or what I used it on, but once I decided where to start, it took me 10 seconds to get into the house. Faster and cheaper than a locksmith.
I gotta buy me a dog. Or fix that little exposure, AFTER I stow a spare key outside the house somewhere. Or both.
I met the neighbor in the street, as she was coming over to tell me that the locksmith wouldn't be able to come today. I returned her item, and taught her how to use it in case she ever had the same problem.
Monday, July 17, 2006
803 Mysterious Lights
Monday, July 17, 2006
I was going to take the minivan for a nice long "clear out the system" drive last evening, but when I went outside, I found the ceiling light on in the Aerio. The sun had moved low enough on the other side of the house that I could see the light on. In full sun earlier in the day, I wouldn't have noticed it. I have no idea how long it had been on. I don't believe it was on when I returned from the auction last night. I checked it, and the switch was definitely set to "full on", so it's not like it was a door ajar or whatever. (No, there's no chance that anyone had been curious and checking the car out. It's not like it's parked on a street....)
So I ended up driving the Aerio around instead. Make sure the battery got recharged.
I called the Chrysler people today and told them I would not be bringing the minivan in today - it was so good on Sunday afternoon I'd like to drive it some more and see. I'm going on a Mensa hike on mansion grounds in Poughkeepsie this evening, so I'll drive the van to that.
Should be a good test - if they want to be bad, being that far from home would be very tempting to the gremlins.
I was going to take the minivan for a nice long "clear out the system" drive last evening, but when I went outside, I found the ceiling light on in the Aerio. The sun had moved low enough on the other side of the house that I could see the light on. In full sun earlier in the day, I wouldn't have noticed it. I have no idea how long it had been on. I don't believe it was on when I returned from the auction last night. I checked it, and the switch was definitely set to "full on", so it's not like it was a door ajar or whatever. (No, there's no chance that anyone had been curious and checking the car out. It's not like it's parked on a street....)
So I ended up driving the Aerio around instead. Make sure the battery got recharged.
I called the Chrysler people today and told them I would not be bringing the minivan in today - it was so good on Sunday afternoon I'd like to drive it some more and see. I'm going on a Mensa hike on mansion grounds in Poughkeepsie this evening, so I'll drive the van to that.
Should be a good test - if they want to be bad, being that far from home would be very tempting to the gremlins.
802 A/C
I've figured out why the air conditioning isn't working very well.
It's a groundwater heat pump. It pulls water from the well, runs it through tubes, blows air across the tubes and then through the house. Very simple, efficient, and cheap.
When it was already 82 in here at 10 this morning, I went downstairs and poked around a bit. I turned on a faucet attached just before the pipe enters the unit, and all I got was a trickle of water.
One of the problems with the well is that sometimes we get a lot of dirt in the water. The filter catches most of it, but not all. Mud sludge can build up in the pipes, especially, like, those not used over the winter.
I suspect there's a lot of sludge in the pipes leading to the heat pump. Even if I can clear the sludge out of the pipes, I suspect there will still be sludge in the tubes in the unit itself. That requires special tools to clean, and the company that services it has given up on it and won't service it any more. It's over 20 years old, and the company stopped manufacturing this model the year it was installed (when the house was built. Jay really got rooked on that), so parts are no longer available.
As far as I'm concerned, it's dead.
I can't just go get a window A/C to get through the next few weeks because all my windows are - I forget what they're called - they crank open like a shutter, hinges on the side, ya know? That and sliding glass doors. Noplace to install a unit. I'm not about to cut a hole in the wall for a temporary fix. I guess it's lucky that I got the roof fan this year. It could have been worse.
Any idea what happened to all my floor fans, Daughter? Coulda sworn I had at least three big ones, and now I can't find any. Did I lend them to someone? I don't remember lending any out....
I guess I'm lucky that heat doesn't much bother me. Not like cold does. Heat is just annoying because it frizzes my hair, melts my makeup off, and makes the laundry pile up faster.
It's a groundwater heat pump. It pulls water from the well, runs it through tubes, blows air across the tubes and then through the house. Very simple, efficient, and cheap.
When it was already 82 in here at 10 this morning, I went downstairs and poked around a bit. I turned on a faucet attached just before the pipe enters the unit, and all I got was a trickle of water.
One of the problems with the well is that sometimes we get a lot of dirt in the water. The filter catches most of it, but not all. Mud sludge can build up in the pipes, especially, like, those not used over the winter.
I suspect there's a lot of sludge in the pipes leading to the heat pump. Even if I can clear the sludge out of the pipes, I suspect there will still be sludge in the tubes in the unit itself. That requires special tools to clean, and the company that services it has given up on it and won't service it any more. It's over 20 years old, and the company stopped manufacturing this model the year it was installed (when the house was built. Jay really got rooked on that), so parts are no longer available.
As far as I'm concerned, it's dead.
I can't just go get a window A/C to get through the next few weeks because all my windows are - I forget what they're called - they crank open like a shutter, hinges on the side, ya know? That and sliding glass doors. Noplace to install a unit. I'm not about to cut a hole in the wall for a temporary fix. I guess it's lucky that I got the roof fan this year. It could have been worse.
Any idea what happened to all my floor fans, Daughter? Coulda sworn I had at least three big ones, and now I can't find any. Did I lend them to someone? I don't remember lending any out....
I guess I'm lucky that heat doesn't much bother me. Not like cold does. Heat is just annoying because it frizzes my hair, melts my makeup off, and makes the laundry pile up faster.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
801 Can Anyone Say "Nostradamus"?
Just saw a photo of Hassan Nasrallah. He was wearing a blue turban.
800 Dehumidifier Warning
Among the list of safety warnings for my new dehumidifier is this gem:
"Do not operate in a moist environment."
Incidentally, the humidity in my basement is currently 90%. I think that may be higher than outside! I've set the machine to take it down to 40%.
"Do not operate in a moist environment."
Incidentally, the humidity in my basement is currently 90%. I think that may be higher than outside! I've set the machine to take it down to 40%.
799 Dehumidifier; Raccoons
Sunday, July 16, 2006
I filled the minivan's gas tank (hoping that if there is a fuel line problem, nice new clean gas might help) and drove it across the river to buy a new dehumidifier. I'm happy to report it was very well behaved. After I install the new dehumidifier, I think I'll take the van for a nice long ride.
The old dehumidifier stopped working about a month ago, and right after it quit I accidentally dropped a wrench on it, and was amazed when it immediately started up again. A few days ago it quit again. I beat it with a wrench some more, but nothing happened. I'm annoyed because I threw out two ancient dead dehumidifiers that were taking up room in the basement back when I had the dumpsters here. Now I've got another. I wish it had died sooner.
Coming back from the store I saw two dead raccoons alongside the road. I noticed the large one on the left first, then I saw the small one on the right. Sad. I guess one of them got hit first and then the other, going back and forth in distress, got hit. One adult animal wouldn't bother me so much, but I hate to see what looks like a mother and baby.
On the other hand, I've been perversely happy to see so many raccoons dead on the road this summer. We had a very bad outbreak of rabies in the early and mid 90s. It hit the raccoons especially badly, almost wiped them out. I'm happy to see them back in large enough numbers to become a silent testament on the roadsides again. I like raccoons. When I first moved to this area, I had a pack who showed up at the back door every evening, asking if I happened to have any yummy garbage, particularly stale or leftover cat food.
They can make a royal mess with your garbage cans, but they're smart and funny.
(The link above says they are solitary - but it's my experience that when there's a promising garbage can, or a friendly back door, they will cooperate in a pack. I've seen them boost each other up into garbage cans.)
I filled the minivan's gas tank (hoping that if there is a fuel line problem, nice new clean gas might help) and drove it across the river to buy a new dehumidifier. I'm happy to report it was very well behaved. After I install the new dehumidifier, I think I'll take the van for a nice long ride.
The old dehumidifier stopped working about a month ago, and right after it quit I accidentally dropped a wrench on it, and was amazed when it immediately started up again. A few days ago it quit again. I beat it with a wrench some more, but nothing happened. I'm annoyed because I threw out two ancient dead dehumidifiers that were taking up room in the basement back when I had the dumpsters here. Now I've got another. I wish it had died sooner.
Coming back from the store I saw two dead raccoons alongside the road. I noticed the large one on the left first, then I saw the small one on the right. Sad. I guess one of them got hit first and then the other, going back and forth in distress, got hit. One adult animal wouldn't bother me so much, but I hate to see what looks like a mother and baby.
On the other hand, I've been perversely happy to see so many raccoons dead on the road this summer. We had a very bad outbreak of rabies in the early and mid 90s. It hit the raccoons especially badly, almost wiped them out. I'm happy to see them back in large enough numbers to become a silent testament on the roadsides again. I like raccoons. When I first moved to this area, I had a pack who showed up at the back door every evening, asking if I happened to have any yummy garbage, particularly stale or leftover cat food.
They can make a royal mess with your garbage cans, but they're smart and funny.
(The link above says they are solitary - but it's my experience that when there's a promising garbage can, or a friendly back door, they will cooperate in a pack. I've seen them boost each other up into garbage cans.)
798 Taste Tests
Sunday, July 16, 2006
One of the stories on CBS's "Sunday Morning" mentioned a very expensive coffee, which sells for up to $600 a pound. It's harvested from the back ends of Indonesian mongooses (mongeese?) who had eaten and partially digested the beans. However, the average taste tester couldn't taste anything special. "It tastes like ... coffee."
In fact, in coffee taste tests, people almost always choose the least expensive of the samples as the best.
I don't find this surprising at all.
Chocolate snobs are always surprised when Hershey's always wins chocolate taste tests, preferred over all those expensive imported chocolates.
I don't find that surprising either.
The reason is simple: People always prefer what they are familiar with over something new. They might like to try new stuff, but when asked which tastes best, they will always choose the familiar (comforting) sample.
And most people are familiar with cheap coffee and cheap chocolate.
There's a lesson there somewhere.
One of the stories on CBS's "Sunday Morning" mentioned a very expensive coffee, which sells for up to $600 a pound. It's harvested from the back ends of Indonesian mongooses (mongeese?) who had eaten and partially digested the beans. However, the average taste tester couldn't taste anything special. "It tastes like ... coffee."
In fact, in coffee taste tests, people almost always choose the least expensive of the samples as the best.
I don't find this surprising at all.
Chocolate snobs are always surprised when Hershey's always wins chocolate taste tests, preferred over all those expensive imported chocolates.
I don't find that surprising either.
The reason is simple: People always prefer what they are familiar with over something new. They might like to try new stuff, but when asked which tastes best, they will always choose the familiar (comforting) sample.
And most people are familiar with cheap coffee and cheap chocolate.
There's a lesson there somewhere.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
797 Cease-Fire Demands
"Israel on Saturday laid out a set of demands to the Lebanese Shiite militia Hezbollah, which it said were its conditions for a ceasefire in Lebanon." Read them here.
It sounds very reasonable to me, but not so easy to implement.
I can see that Lebanon has to take some blame for having turned a blind eye to Hezbollah. But it's a little harsh to now demand that Lebanon rein in Hezbollah, after having made it much more difficult for Lebanon to do so.
Sigh.
It sounds very reasonable to me, but not so easy to implement.
I can see that Lebanon has to take some blame for having turned a blind eye to Hezbollah. But it's a little harsh to now demand that Lebanon rein in Hezbollah, after having made it much more difficult for Lebanon to do so.
Sigh.
796 To Read
Please read this, posted by Lisa Goldman at On The Face.
A little history, a little analysis, a lot of common sense. And that's what I find scary - that at the level where decisions are being made, there is little common sense.
A little history, a little analysis, a lot of common sense. And that's what I find scary - that at the level where decisions are being made, there is little common sense.
795 Aborted Auction Action
Saturday, July 15, 2006
I went to an auction this evening (auction at 5:30, preview just before). They usually go to almost midnight, but I left at 7 pm.
There wasn't much of anything I was interested in, or curious what it would sell for. Most of it seemed like just junk. There was one pretty little carved walnut cameo back settee (that needed reupholstering), but I already own 5 Victorian settees (one a reproduction), so I certainly don't need another. I decided if it looked like it was going to go for less than $100, I'd buy it. It went for $125. That was a very good buy. There was also a 1967 Camero convertible (one owner, a woman who had won it on a TV quiz program forty years ago) that went for $18,000. I was curious about that.
After the settee and the car sold, I discovered I was reading my book and paying absolutely no attention to any of the items being auctioned, so I decided to leave. First time I've ever left an auction before the last page of the catalogue. What's more, I believe it's the first time I didn't bid. Not even once.
You know, I wouldn't have left if there had been any interesting men there. Seems like all the men at these auctions are with their girlfriend, or with their boyfriend. The only men there alone are in their 80s
... except for the caterer. He's a gorgeous black guy about 6'5" and BROAD, with nice eyes and a deep quiet voice. A Culinary Institute graduate. Daughter met him once, and had pretty much the same reaction to him that I have. The food at these auctions is as famous as the antics of the auctioneer. We have curried chicken pasta salad, sausage casserole, the best baked ham I've ever tasted, mushroom or spinach quiche, pineapple bread pudding, various fruit pies, stuff like that. Gorgeous, and he can cook, too. He complimented me this evening on my weight loss, shortly after I turned around too quickly during the preview and ran face first into his midsection. Too bad he's at least 20 years younger than I.
Off to watch my Saturday night PBS Britcoms. I've seen every one of these ancient episodes a hundred times, but it's relaxing anyway.
I went to an auction this evening (auction at 5:30, preview just before). They usually go to almost midnight, but I left at 7 pm.
There wasn't much of anything I was interested in, or curious what it would sell for. Most of it seemed like just junk. There was one pretty little carved walnut cameo back settee (that needed reupholstering), but I already own 5 Victorian settees (one a reproduction), so I certainly don't need another. I decided if it looked like it was going to go for less than $100, I'd buy it. It went for $125. That was a very good buy. There was also a 1967 Camero convertible (one owner, a woman who had won it on a TV quiz program forty years ago) that went for $18,000. I was curious about that.
After the settee and the car sold, I discovered I was reading my book and paying absolutely no attention to any of the items being auctioned, so I decided to leave. First time I've ever left an auction before the last page of the catalogue. What's more, I believe it's the first time I didn't bid. Not even once.
You know, I wouldn't have left if there had been any interesting men there. Seems like all the men at these auctions are with their girlfriend, or with their boyfriend. The only men there alone are in their 80s
... except for the caterer. He's a gorgeous black guy about 6'5" and BROAD, with nice eyes and a deep quiet voice. A Culinary Institute graduate. Daughter met him once, and had pretty much the same reaction to him that I have. The food at these auctions is as famous as the antics of the auctioneer. We have curried chicken pasta salad, sausage casserole, the best baked ham I've ever tasted, mushroom or spinach quiche, pineapple bread pudding, various fruit pies, stuff like that. Gorgeous, and he can cook, too. He complimented me this evening on my weight loss, shortly after I turned around too quickly during the preview and ran face first into his midsection. Too bad he's at least 20 years younger than I.
Off to watch my Saturday night PBS Britcoms. I've seen every one of these ancient episodes a hundred times, but it's relaxing anyway.
794 Quote
"politics seems to rid normal human beings of basic anatomical functions such as logical thought"
...from DNA, of Mindbleed, in a thoughtful and anguished post. The "SM" he refers to is The Sandmonkey.
...from DNA, of Mindbleed, in a thoughtful and anguished post. The "SM" he refers to is The Sandmonkey.
793 Links Are Fixed! (I hope)
[Later edit - The corrections have finally shown up in the link panel on the right. I have tested the Israeli and Lebanese links and they now work.]
I apologize to anyone who attempted to follow the links on the right to the Lebanese blogs. I screwed up the entries when I added one to the list. They should be fixed now (or as soon as Blogger catches up). If there's a bullet in front of the blog name, the link should work.
Let me know if any don't.
I apologize to anyone who attempted to follow the links on the right to the Lebanese blogs. I screwed up the entries when I added one to the list. They should be fixed now (or as soon as Blogger catches up). If there's a bullet in front of the blog name, the link should work.
Let me know if any don't.
Friday, July 14, 2006
792 Friday - Flirtations and Fears
Friday, July 14, 2006
I volunteered at the Maritime Museum today, and finally, finally, a man came in who was worth flirting with!
He had come in with a woman. They were working with an environmental action group and wanted to find maps or aerial views of the river bank, and to use the computer to look some stuff up on their way to a meeting. I thought it was cute that he mentioned that they had "met up" to do this research and would have to go back such-and-such a way so she could retrieve her car. He didn't have to mention that. (Like, "Um, just to let you know we don't live together....") I was sure to mention that my late husband and I had attended blah blah, and I mentioned the village I live in (just in case he wanted to look in a phone book or anything like that).
I'm not going to sit around waiting for a call, but it was good practice. He leaned over the counter to read my badge at least three times, it was clear he was memorizing the name, so I might have done something right. I'm rather proud of myself. Flirting is new to me.
I didn't get much else done today, beyond stopping in at the Suzuki dealership to ask what that blank green rectangle on the dashboard display is (they didn't know), and to order a 2003 book. The 2006 book just doesn't make it.
The Hairless Hunk and I spent some time discussing what has to be done with the woods (damn, he's good looking!), and I had nice phone conversations with Daughter (who is visiting Penn State and her old fraternity house for the first time since she graduated), and Piper, and Roman.
The Hunk told me that he had talked recently with the young man who had cleared my woods. I had sold the guy an easement on my property for his electric line, for the house he's building behind mine, for $1 and the clearing of the woods. Coming across my property was about 1/3 the distance compared to coming up from the highway. It turns out that to come across my property requires that they put in another pole at the corner of my lot, and that one pole will cost him $10,000 to have it planted! So it turns out that it's actually cheaper for him to run the line up from the highway, since there would be no poles involved. Ouch! I almost feel sorry for the guy.
I spent a lot of time today reading Israeli and Lebanese blogs (see links on the right. Note - Links will be there on the main page, but not if you are looking only at this post). The contrast between what we hear on the news or read in the newspaper and what these bloggers are saying, is ... I can't think of an appropriate word. If you know what's really going on, the reasons and implications, you might be as frightened as I am.
I volunteered at the Maritime Museum today, and finally, finally, a man came in who was worth flirting with!
He had come in with a woman. They were working with an environmental action group and wanted to find maps or aerial views of the river bank, and to use the computer to look some stuff up on their way to a meeting. I thought it was cute that he mentioned that they had "met up" to do this research and would have to go back such-and-such a way so she could retrieve her car. He didn't have to mention that. (Like, "Um, just to let you know we don't live together....") I was sure to mention that my late husband and I had attended blah blah, and I mentioned the village I live in (just in case he wanted to look in a phone book or anything like that).
I'm not going to sit around waiting for a call, but it was good practice. He leaned over the counter to read my badge at least three times, it was clear he was memorizing the name, so I might have done something right. I'm rather proud of myself. Flirting is new to me.
I didn't get much else done today, beyond stopping in at the Suzuki dealership to ask what that blank green rectangle on the dashboard display is (they didn't know), and to order a 2003 book. The 2006 book just doesn't make it.
The Hairless Hunk and I spent some time discussing what has to be done with the woods (damn, he's good looking!), and I had nice phone conversations with Daughter (who is visiting Penn State and her old fraternity house for the first time since she graduated), and Piper, and Roman.
The Hunk told me that he had talked recently with the young man who had cleared my woods. I had sold the guy an easement on my property for his electric line, for the house he's building behind mine, for $1 and the clearing of the woods. Coming across my property was about 1/3 the distance compared to coming up from the highway. It turns out that to come across my property requires that they put in another pole at the corner of my lot, and that one pole will cost him $10,000 to have it planted! So it turns out that it's actually cheaper for him to run the line up from the highway, since there would be no poles involved. Ouch! I almost feel sorry for the guy.
I spent a lot of time today reading Israeli and Lebanese blogs (see links on the right. Note - Links will be there on the main page, but not if you are looking only at this post). The contrast between what we hear on the news or read in the newspaper and what these bloggers are saying, is ... I can't think of an appropriate word. If you know what's really going on, the reasons and implications, you might be as frightened as I am.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
791 - Unhappinesses
Thursday, July 13, 2006
I drove the minivan today. The radio/CD player seems to have fixed itself. I went to the hardware store, took the long way. Bought some insect and weed sprays. Coming back, believe it or nor, the van stalled at the intersection right in front of the Chrysler/Dodge dealership. How interesting is that?
They said to bring it in tomorrow, but tomorrow I have to work at the museum, so I'm to take it in on Monday. I think Saturday or Sunday I'll chance it, and drive it to the mall. I need a new dehumidifier, and the van is my only means to get it home. The basement is starting to smell musty.
-----------------------------------
A complaint. Howcome whenever a movie or TV show wants to age a character with makeup (and we've talking comfortable middle class here, not bag ladies), they show them with half-open eyes, red around the eyes, and grey skin with what looks like black dirt in the creases? They put bushy eyebrows on them, especially for some reason the women. And they make the women's hair all fuzzy. Do they think the elderly get no sleep, are half asleep, never wash their faces, and never comb their hair?
Think of some elderly folks you know. As long as their minds are sharp, their eyes are likely to be MORE sparkley, not less. Their skin is likely to look more softly "baby-bottom pink", not grey or thickened. Older women are more likely to have sparse eyebrows from years of plucking, not bushy ones. And older women are more likely to have their hair professionally done.
Where are these makeup people getting their idea of what age looks like? It's really starting to annoy me.
I drove the minivan today. The radio/CD player seems to have fixed itself. I went to the hardware store, took the long way. Bought some insect and weed sprays. Coming back, believe it or nor, the van stalled at the intersection right in front of the Chrysler/Dodge dealership. How interesting is that?
They said to bring it in tomorrow, but tomorrow I have to work at the museum, so I'm to take it in on Monday. I think Saturday or Sunday I'll chance it, and drive it to the mall. I need a new dehumidifier, and the van is my only means to get it home. The basement is starting to smell musty.
-----------------------------------
A complaint. Howcome whenever a movie or TV show wants to age a character with makeup (and we've talking comfortable middle class here, not bag ladies), they show them with half-open eyes, red around the eyes, and grey skin with what looks like black dirt in the creases? They put bushy eyebrows on them, especially for some reason the women. And they make the women's hair all fuzzy. Do they think the elderly get no sleep, are half asleep, never wash their faces, and never comb their hair?
Think of some elderly folks you know. As long as their minds are sharp, their eyes are likely to be MORE sparkley, not less. Their skin is likely to look more softly "baby-bottom pink", not grey or thickened. Older women are more likely to have sparse eyebrows from years of plucking, not bushy ones. And older women are more likely to have their hair professionally done.
Where are these makeup people getting their idea of what age looks like? It's really starting to annoy me.
790 Machu Picchu
Thursday, July 13, 2006
[Edit - minor clarification - ignore if you've seen this already.]
Dinner last evening was at Machu Picchu, a Peruvian restaurant in Newburgh. (Interesting coincidence, Machu Picchu, Peru, was the locale for a "Nightline" story last night. When I was younger, I'd always wanted to go there. Now I know I can't handle the altitude.) The menu was a surprise. It included tripe, and some of the sauces contained potatoes, and there were Chinese items. I ended up with a thin (but tender) flank steak covered in sauteed tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions, with a scoop of rice on the side. The guy across from me had lo mein with the same vegetables mixed in, plus sweet and hot peppers.
There were only four of us. One woman (a professor at West Point, whose husband is currently in Iraq) had brought her toddler, so she had to leave early. The remaining three of us wanted dessert, but they didn't have any. Angela mentioned that there was an ice cream place "just up the road", so we decided to walk to it.
I forgot that Angela thinks nothing of a 10-mile run, and the 25-year-old guy with us runs several miles every morning. "Just up the road" turned out to be about a mile and a half - a three mile round trip. Ick! I was wearing flip-flops. Plastic flip-flops. (Not on purpose - they're what I wear around the house, and I forgot to change before I left.) But the goal of REAL frozen custard kept me going.
When we got there, the ice cream parlor was now a pizza parlor. There was a Baskin Robbins across the street, so that's where we ended up.
I'm sorry, Newburgh, but I find your Broadway scary. Maybe that's why we had so few people show up for dinner. Heading back to the cars after ice cream, we walked past at least two examples of your fearless cops in action, patting down suspects. We also saw several police cars flashing lights on the other side of the street far ahead of us, but by the time we got there the excitement was over. That's on a Wednesday night, about 9 pm. I'd hate to see Saturday.
But the trees lining the street are pretty. They distract attention from the crumbling concrete.
[Edit - minor clarification - ignore if you've seen this already.]
Dinner last evening was at Machu Picchu, a Peruvian restaurant in Newburgh. (Interesting coincidence, Machu Picchu, Peru, was the locale for a "Nightline" story last night. When I was younger, I'd always wanted to go there. Now I know I can't handle the altitude.) The menu was a surprise. It included tripe, and some of the sauces contained potatoes, and there were Chinese items. I ended up with a thin (but tender) flank steak covered in sauteed tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions, with a scoop of rice on the side. The guy across from me had lo mein with the same vegetables mixed in, plus sweet and hot peppers.
There were only four of us. One woman (a professor at West Point, whose husband is currently in Iraq) had brought her toddler, so she had to leave early. The remaining three of us wanted dessert, but they didn't have any. Angela mentioned that there was an ice cream place "just up the road", so we decided to walk to it.
I forgot that Angela thinks nothing of a 10-mile run, and the 25-year-old guy with us runs several miles every morning. "Just up the road" turned out to be about a mile and a half - a three mile round trip. Ick! I was wearing flip-flops. Plastic flip-flops. (Not on purpose - they're what I wear around the house, and I forgot to change before I left.) But the goal of REAL frozen custard kept me going.
When we got there, the ice cream parlor was now a pizza parlor. There was a Baskin Robbins across the street, so that's where we ended up.
I'm sorry, Newburgh, but I find your Broadway scary. Maybe that's why we had so few people show up for dinner. Heading back to the cars after ice cream, we walked past at least two examples of your fearless cops in action, patting down suspects. We also saw several police cars flashing lights on the other side of the street far ahead of us, but by the time we got there the excitement was over. That's on a Wednesday night, about 9 pm. I'd hate to see Saturday.
But the trees lining the street are pretty. They distract attention from the crumbling concrete.
789 Places I Have Lived
Just for the fun of it, this is a list of places I know I have lived. All I'm sure of in the first seven years are places where siblings were born - I'm sure there are more that I don't remember, because when my father was in Air Force schools in radar and electronics, we moved about every six weeks.
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Fayetteville, North Carolina
Biloxi, Mississippi
...other places I was too young to remember
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Hershey, Pennsylvania
Benton, Pennsylvania
Ottawa, Ontario (city)
Ottawa, Ontario (suburb)
Benton, Pennsylvania
Red Rock, Pennsylvania
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania
Benton, Pennsylvania
Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania
Hanover, Pennsylvania
Bristol, Pennsylvania
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
Kingston, New York
Ruby, New York
Ballwin, Missouri
Germantown, Maryland
Highland, New York
Where I am now.... and have been for 12 years, the longest I've ever lived anywhere.
I guess I'm mostly Pennsylvanian, although the last 23 years I've lived in New York..
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Fayetteville, North Carolina
Biloxi, Mississippi
...other places I was too young to remember
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Hershey, Pennsylvania
Benton, Pennsylvania
Ottawa, Ontario (city)
Ottawa, Ontario (suburb)
Benton, Pennsylvania
Red Rock, Pennsylvania
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania
Benton, Pennsylvania
Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania
Hanover, Pennsylvania
Bristol, Pennsylvania
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
Kingston, New York
Ruby, New York
Ballwin, Missouri
Germantown, Maryland
Highland, New York
Where I am now.... and have been for 12 years, the longest I've ever lived anywhere.
I guess I'm mostly Pennsylvanian, although the last 23 years I've lived in New York..
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
788 Crossed Fingers
I turned in the rental and picked up the new (to me) Aerio today. One of the papers that came with it has the name and address of the previous owner, so that's nice.
Then the Chrysler folks called. The minivan had been driven 56 miles by the technician who took it home, with no problems whatsoever. "Yesterday's stall must have been a fluke." So they came and got me, I paid (Almost $800 dollars!) for diagnosis, spark plugs, and rotors, and brought the van home. No problems with the motor or check engine light, but the second I pulled into the driveway, the radio display flashed "ERR---" and the radio cut out. I turned the radio off and back on, and it seems to think there's a CD in there, but there isn't one. Fooey. I wonder if they messed around in the dashboard with whatever they did. There's a scratch across the face of the radio display that wasn't there before.
Which makes me wonder - maybe I should try lowering and raising the ramp sometime soon.
I'll be driving the Aerio to Newburgh for dinner this evening. Maiden voyage. Cross fingers.
Then the Chrysler folks called. The minivan had been driven 56 miles by the technician who took it home, with no problems whatsoever. "Yesterday's stall must have been a fluke." So they came and got me, I paid (Almost $800 dollars!) for diagnosis, spark plugs, and rotors, and brought the van home. No problems with the motor or check engine light, but the second I pulled into the driveway, the radio display flashed "ERR---" and the radio cut out. I turned the radio off and back on, and it seems to think there's a CD in there, but there isn't one. Fooey. I wonder if they messed around in the dashboard with whatever they did. There's a scratch across the face of the radio display that wasn't there before.
Which makes me wonder - maybe I should try lowering and raising the ramp sometime soon.
I'll be driving the Aerio to Newburgh for dinner this evening. Maiden voyage. Cross fingers.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
787 More Minivan Misery
I got a call from Chrysler service at 12:45 pm today saying that the van was finished and I could come and get it.
Whoop whoop!
I said that I wasn't sure when I could get there since I had to call a taxi. They said they'd come and get me, "just give me a minute to find out who's free."
At 2:55, I called and asked if they knew yet when someone would be coming? I'd been hesitant to leave the house, even to get the mail. So the guy came then. He drove my minivan, and it was nice to see it coming up the road.
We headed back to the Chrysler place, he still driving, and ....
I was back home by 3:35, without the van. It stalled on the way back to the shop, so they've still got it.
Well, at least the "check engine" light didn't go on.
At 4:30 I got another call, asking for permission for a technician to take it home with him tonight, so it'll get more miles of test drive. They'd tried driving it around, and they'd let it run, and they couldn't get it to stall again. It didn't hesitate before it stalled this afternoon, so I think the "mixture problem", if that's what it was, is fixed. In my humble opinion, it needs the fuel injection thingy and the fuel lines cleaned.
-------------------------------------------
A few people have scolded me for not taking it to the dealership in the first place. Well, I've had very bad experiences with dealer service in the past (Ford and Chevy). In his defense, Mr. T. is really very good. They have no idiots in their shop - it's a family business, and all the younger folk have grown up in it. Mr. T. worked under his father until he died a few years ago, and now his son is moving up in the business. In fact, the Chrysler guy today said "Oh, yes, They're good. We sometimes send work to them when we can't handle it." So I don't feel that I made any bad choices. Mr. T. also doesn't charge when he doesn't fix.
Before I started taking the Ford Taurus to Mr. T., I had taken it to the Ford dealership shop. I noticed something odd. Every time they fixed something, within a week or two something else major went. Every six months or so, I had to get two, three, or four things fixed one after another. Once I started taking it to Mr. T., when things got fixed, there were no further problems for a long time. I really don't think it was just coincidence, because several times when I wanted something done and Mr. T. couldn't fit me in the schedule, and I'd take it to the dealer, the same pattern happened again.
The Chevy dealer shop was just plain incompetent. Plus they never listened to symptoms, and never took them into consideration. They just replaced things in some kind of priority order until something worked. And charged me for everything, of course.
An example was when I had some kind of electrical problem with the Cavalier that occurred ONLY when water splashed up from underneath. No problem in ordinary rain, mind you, unless I went through a deep puddle, or if it was raining hard enough and I was going fast enough that road water splashed up. And even then, it took a good 20 minutes or 30 miles before it started happening. Never any problem on dry roads, and never any problem starting even in pouring rain. So I took it to the Chevy dealer and described it as specifically as possible.
They replaced the fuel pump. I freaked. "It CAN'T be the fuel pump!" They said they tested it, and it's fine now. "How did you test it?" We drove it to uptown and back and it was fine. "That's it? It hasn't rained in a week. Did you run it through water?" No, why would we want to do that? "Agggghhhhh..........!!!" I refused to pay for the fuel pump. So they replaced some other stuff, belts, seals, whatever. Nothing that made any sense whatsoever. And they always insisted it was fixed because it had no problem on sunny days. Three more replacements and a threat of lawsuit (because I refused to pay for replaced parts I had not approved), I took it to Mr. T.
He replaced the spark plug wires. He said they were carbon and have a history of shorting out when they get wet. Problem solved. (Partially. He had to replace them with exactly the same thing, so that fix lasted on average 10 months, and then had to be done again, so there was some basic design problem somewhere. You'd think that if Mr. T. knew about it, the Chevy dealer would too.)
So that's why I went with Mr. T. and resisted the dealership for so long.
Whoop whoop!
I said that I wasn't sure when I could get there since I had to call a taxi. They said they'd come and get me, "just give me a minute to find out who's free."
At 2:55, I called and asked if they knew yet when someone would be coming? I'd been hesitant to leave the house, even to get the mail. So the guy came then. He drove my minivan, and it was nice to see it coming up the road.
We headed back to the Chrysler place, he still driving, and ....
I was back home by 3:35, without the van. It stalled on the way back to the shop, so they've still got it.
Well, at least the "check engine" light didn't go on.
At 4:30 I got another call, asking for permission for a technician to take it home with him tonight, so it'll get more miles of test drive. They'd tried driving it around, and they'd let it run, and they couldn't get it to stall again. It didn't hesitate before it stalled this afternoon, so I think the "mixture problem", if that's what it was, is fixed. In my humble opinion, it needs the fuel injection thingy and the fuel lines cleaned.
-------------------------------------------
A few people have scolded me for not taking it to the dealership in the first place. Well, I've had very bad experiences with dealer service in the past (Ford and Chevy). In his defense, Mr. T. is really very good. They have no idiots in their shop - it's a family business, and all the younger folk have grown up in it. Mr. T. worked under his father until he died a few years ago, and now his son is moving up in the business. In fact, the Chrysler guy today said "Oh, yes, They're good. We sometimes send work to them when we can't handle it." So I don't feel that I made any bad choices. Mr. T. also doesn't charge when he doesn't fix.
Before I started taking the Ford Taurus to Mr. T., I had taken it to the Ford dealership shop. I noticed something odd. Every time they fixed something, within a week or two something else major went. Every six months or so, I had to get two, three, or four things fixed one after another. Once I started taking it to Mr. T., when things got fixed, there were no further problems for a long time. I really don't think it was just coincidence, because several times when I wanted something done and Mr. T. couldn't fit me in the schedule, and I'd take it to the dealer, the same pattern happened again.
The Chevy dealer shop was just plain incompetent. Plus they never listened to symptoms, and never took them into consideration. They just replaced things in some kind of priority order until something worked. And charged me for everything, of course.
An example was when I had some kind of electrical problem with the Cavalier that occurred ONLY when water splashed up from underneath. No problem in ordinary rain, mind you, unless I went through a deep puddle, or if it was raining hard enough and I was going fast enough that road water splashed up. And even then, it took a good 20 minutes or 30 miles before it started happening. Never any problem on dry roads, and never any problem starting even in pouring rain. So I took it to the Chevy dealer and described it as specifically as possible.
They replaced the fuel pump. I freaked. "It CAN'T be the fuel pump!" They said they tested it, and it's fine now. "How did you test it?" We drove it to uptown and back and it was fine. "That's it? It hasn't rained in a week. Did you run it through water?" No, why would we want to do that? "Agggghhhhh..........!!!" I refused to pay for the fuel pump. So they replaced some other stuff, belts, seals, whatever. Nothing that made any sense whatsoever. And they always insisted it was fixed because it had no problem on sunny days. Three more replacements and a threat of lawsuit (because I refused to pay for replaced parts I had not approved), I took it to Mr. T.
He replaced the spark plug wires. He said they were carbon and have a history of shorting out when they get wet. Problem solved. (Partially. He had to replace them with exactly the same thing, so that fix lasted on average 10 months, and then had to be done again, so there was some basic design problem somewhere. You'd think that if Mr. T. knew about it, the Chevy dealer would too.)
So that's why I went with Mr. T. and resisted the dealership for so long.
Monday, July 10, 2006
786 I Bought a Car
Monday, July 10, 2006
Busy day today. I got up early, drove to Mr. T.'s, picked up the minivan and drove it to the Chrysler-Dodge dealer's, talked to the service folks there, and then read my book for an hour until one of their people could give me a ride back to Mr. T.'s.
Then I stopped in at Piper's office to get some advice about what I could afford to pay for another car, but he wasn't in yet, so I went to the cafe down the block and had a late breakfast. Saw Piper's car arrive, called him, he said come on in, so I did. We ended up back at the same cafe for coffee (& tea).
He: "You can afford any new car you want. Why are you looking at used cars?"
Me: "Because I fully intend to buy a new car in a year or two, but when I do, I want to really research it. Test drive a lot. Talk to people. That takes more time than I have now."
He: "You don't have the time now? What's the rush?"
Me: "I don't want to keep paying rental car prices, and there's no guarantee when the minivan will be fixed. And I'm going to Orlando in early August, and I want something reliable to drive to the airport in Newark. I need something NOW. I'm essentially BUYING this flippin' rental car, and they STILL want me to give it back someday! I may as well buy a car I can resell later."
So he's cutting a check for me.
He asked exactly when my flight is, and it so happens he has meetings scheduled that afternoon near the airport, so he offered me a ride down. I said thank you, but I still have to get back home, and the long term parking isn't expensive, I don't mind driving. So when he went back to his office this afternoon, he rescheduled some other meetings so he can pick me up after the return flight, too. Very nice of him. It's only now, sitting here alone, that I remember that the last few times we've had lunch someplace we had to drive to, I drove, because his driving scares me. And I don't scare that easily!
Daughter, don't scold me, "You're leading him on!" He offered as a friend, and I accepted as a friend. He knows the score. I've often been told that I don't accept gifts or offers of help gracefully. I'm trying.
After leaving Piper, I went across the river to the Subaru/Suzuki dealer, and looked again at the used Suzuki Aerio sedan. I test drove it. It's a good thing I had read the reviews yesterday, so I was prepared for the strange steering (hard to describe - tight, and it doesn't feel connected to the wheels) and the way it revs very high before shifting. From what I'd read, I know that's normal for this model. The steering takes some getting used to, and it revs high until it's well warmed up. The speedometer is a digital readout instead of a needle on a dial, and it took me about 30 seconds to decide I really really do like that. You don't have to visually/mentally process it when you look at it.
I asked if the car was local (thinking "no Katrina car, thank you") and if the service records were available. The salesman wasn't sure where the car came from, but then he found the folder, and the car was originally purchased new from them, all the major service was done by them, and the previous owner is well known - he buys a new car every three years (when the "everything else" warranty runs out). I believe him. It still has the drivetrain warranty, so if there are major problems he's not mentioning, it's their problem. So far so good.
I bought it.
It's a bit funny looking - like a cross between a sedan, an SUV, and a tank. Here's a picture of a 2003 Suzuki Aerio sedan. Mine's white, with barely visible sparkles in the paint. Four door. CD player. A/C. Power everything. About 36,480 miles on it. Four years remaining on the drivetrain warranty, and I also bought a one-year extension on the "everything else" warranty. Back seats (split) fold down if you want to put long stuff in the trunk. Nice clean gray suede-like upholstery. No evidence of any bodywork or replaced glass. Less than $9,000.
I asked the sales manager why they were selling it for less than the Blue Book value, and he looked stunned for a moment, then waved his arm at the used car lot, and said "We're mainly a new car dealer. We get a LOT of trade-ins. We gotta sell 'em. We're not losing money on the sale...." (Note to self - If I ever buy a new car there, drive a hard deal on the trade-in value they'll allow me. There's apparently some negotiating room.)
They'll handle financing (I plan to pay it off as soon as Piper's check arrives, so I don't care what rate they get, and NYS doesn't allow penalties for early payment), registration, plates, insurance, etc. I get to pick it up Wednesday, at noon, all legal and ready to go.
When I got home, there was a message on the phone from the Chrysler/Dodge shop regarding the minivan. It will be finished and ready to go tomorrow. Duh? I called them back "right quick I tell ya what!"
He: "The front brake rotors are pitted and it needs new spark plugs."
Me: "Ok. No problem. I did feel a pull in the brakes. And the hesitation-stalling-check engine light problem?"
He: "That's the O2 sensor. The connections were bent."
Me: "The O2 sensor? Which one?"
He: "The same one that's been replaced twice already. It looks like when somebody put one in, they forced it, jammed it in, and it bent the connections. So the computer was getting intermittent bad data, and was feeding the engine based on bad data, and that's what was causing the hesitation and stalling, and the check engine lights. We just straightened out the connections. No charge."
Me: "And this is going to fix everything?"
He: "Yup. 'Course you'll have to drive it a bit to make sure, but those bent connections were definitely a problem."
The latest O2 sensor was installed by the second-choice service station, remember? The guys I forced to honor the warranty and do it free. If this DOES fix the problem, you can bet they're going to hear about it. I guess that's the automotive equivalent of spitting in my food.
Busy day today. I got up early, drove to Mr. T.'s, picked up the minivan and drove it to the Chrysler-Dodge dealer's, talked to the service folks there, and then read my book for an hour until one of their people could give me a ride back to Mr. T.'s.
Then I stopped in at Piper's office to get some advice about what I could afford to pay for another car, but he wasn't in yet, so I went to the cafe down the block and had a late breakfast. Saw Piper's car arrive, called him, he said come on in, so I did. We ended up back at the same cafe for coffee (& tea).
He: "You can afford any new car you want. Why are you looking at used cars?"
Me: "Because I fully intend to buy a new car in a year or two, but when I do, I want to really research it. Test drive a lot. Talk to people. That takes more time than I have now."
He: "You don't have the time now? What's the rush?"
Me: "I don't want to keep paying rental car prices, and there's no guarantee when the minivan will be fixed. And I'm going to Orlando in early August, and I want something reliable to drive to the airport in Newark. I need something NOW. I'm essentially BUYING this flippin' rental car, and they STILL want me to give it back someday! I may as well buy a car I can resell later."
So he's cutting a check for me.
He asked exactly when my flight is, and it so happens he has meetings scheduled that afternoon near the airport, so he offered me a ride down. I said thank you, but I still have to get back home, and the long term parking isn't expensive, I don't mind driving. So when he went back to his office this afternoon, he rescheduled some other meetings so he can pick me up after the return flight, too. Very nice of him. It's only now, sitting here alone, that I remember that the last few times we've had lunch someplace we had to drive to, I drove, because his driving scares me. And I don't scare that easily!
Daughter, don't scold me, "You're leading him on!" He offered as a friend, and I accepted as a friend. He knows the score. I've often been told that I don't accept gifts or offers of help gracefully. I'm trying.
After leaving Piper, I went across the river to the Subaru/Suzuki dealer, and looked again at the used Suzuki Aerio sedan. I test drove it. It's a good thing I had read the reviews yesterday, so I was prepared for the strange steering (hard to describe - tight, and it doesn't feel connected to the wheels) and the way it revs very high before shifting. From what I'd read, I know that's normal for this model. The steering takes some getting used to, and it revs high until it's well warmed up. The speedometer is a digital readout instead of a needle on a dial, and it took me about 30 seconds to decide I really really do like that. You don't have to visually/mentally process it when you look at it.
I asked if the car was local (thinking "no Katrina car, thank you") and if the service records were available. The salesman wasn't sure where the car came from, but then he found the folder, and the car was originally purchased new from them, all the major service was done by them, and the previous owner is well known - he buys a new car every three years (when the "everything else" warranty runs out). I believe him. It still has the drivetrain warranty, so if there are major problems he's not mentioning, it's their problem. So far so good.
I bought it.
It's a bit funny looking - like a cross between a sedan, an SUV, and a tank. Here's a picture of a 2003 Suzuki Aerio sedan. Mine's white, with barely visible sparkles in the paint. Four door. CD player. A/C. Power everything. About 36,480 miles on it. Four years remaining on the drivetrain warranty, and I also bought a one-year extension on the "everything else" warranty. Back seats (split) fold down if you want to put long stuff in the trunk. Nice clean gray suede-like upholstery. No evidence of any bodywork or replaced glass. Less than $9,000.
I asked the sales manager why they were selling it for less than the Blue Book value, and he looked stunned for a moment, then waved his arm at the used car lot, and said "We're mainly a new car dealer. We get a LOT of trade-ins. We gotta sell 'em. We're not losing money on the sale...." (Note to self - If I ever buy a new car there, drive a hard deal on the trade-in value they'll allow me. There's apparently some negotiating room.)
They'll handle financing (I plan to pay it off as soon as Piper's check arrives, so I don't care what rate they get, and NYS doesn't allow penalties for early payment), registration, plates, insurance, etc. I get to pick it up Wednesday, at noon, all legal and ready to go.
When I got home, there was a message on the phone from the Chrysler/Dodge shop regarding the minivan. It will be finished and ready to go tomorrow. Duh? I called them back "right quick I tell ya what!"
He: "The front brake rotors are pitted and it needs new spark plugs."
Me: "Ok. No problem. I did feel a pull in the brakes. And the hesitation-stalling-check engine light problem?"
He: "That's the O2 sensor. The connections were bent."
Me: "The O2 sensor? Which one?"
He: "The same one that's been replaced twice already. It looks like when somebody put one in, they forced it, jammed it in, and it bent the connections. So the computer was getting intermittent bad data, and was feeding the engine based on bad data, and that's what was causing the hesitation and stalling, and the check engine lights. We just straightened out the connections. No charge."
Me: "And this is going to fix everything?"
He: "Yup. 'Course you'll have to drive it a bit to make sure, but those bent connections were definitely a problem."
The latest O2 sensor was installed by the second-choice service station, remember? The guys I forced to honor the warranty and do it free. If this DOES fix the problem, you can bet they're going to hear about it. I guess that's the automotive equivalent of spitting in my food.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
785 Magic - The Ball Knows All
I lifted this from Ally at Simply Me Ally. (She takes nice photos, BTW.)
I had an 8-Ball when I was a pre-teen, and it's funny how much faith I still have in its answers! I even test it by asking questions to which I already know the answers, and it's always right. So, therefore, it must be right on all answers, right?
Click the 8-Ball to begin...
I had an 8-Ball when I was a pre-teen, and it's funny how much faith I still have in its answers! I even test it by asking questions to which I already know the answers, and it's always right. So, therefore, it must be right on all answers, right?
Click the 8-Ball to begin...784 New SUVs
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Anyone else notice that the new SUVs look a lot like mini-minivans?
[Personal to Caroline from the UK, I replied to your comment.]
Anyone else notice that the new SUVs look a lot like mini-minivans?
[Personal to Caroline from the UK, I replied to your comment.]
783 Nothing Sunday
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Nothing day. I was awakened early this morning by a call from the Maritime Museum - they needed someone to tend the gift shop today. I said I couldn't. I considered it, but I need time to catch up on stuff here after having been away Friday and Saturday.
Tomorrow will be a full day. I have to move the van from Mr. T.'s to the Chrysler dealership first thing in the morning, then I need to talk to Piper about the best way to handle the car problem, and by 5 pm I hope to have the problem solved, by finding and starting the paperwork on another vehicle, I hope....
I'm liking the used car I found on Thursday at the Subaru lot more and more. I hope it's still there.
Nothing day. I was awakened early this morning by a call from the Maritime Museum - they needed someone to tend the gift shop today. I said I couldn't. I considered it, but I need time to catch up on stuff here after having been away Friday and Saturday.
Tomorrow will be a full day. I have to move the van from Mr. T.'s to the Chrysler dealership first thing in the morning, then I need to talk to Piper about the best way to handle the car problem, and by 5 pm I hope to have the problem solved, by finding and starting the paperwork on another vehicle, I hope....
I'm liking the used car I found on Thursday at the Subaru lot more and more. I hope it's still there.
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