Saturday, October 28, 2006
A commenter has asked for news about my nephew. I've been putting that off because it's not good at all.
After last Saturday's surgery, they had put him into a deeper coma (I didn't know they got any deeper!) and then took him off that medication later. Wednesday he was dumping urine. Thursday his pupils were no longer reacting - one is dilated and the other is constricted, but neither react to light. So they (finally!) did some kind of test for brain activity, and there isn't any. His heart is beating on its own, and although he's on a respirator, he's "one breath ahead of the respirator", but there are no higher functions.
So, decisions have to be made.
I asked my sister what the law is in Florida, who can make those decisions. He's 37 and had never married, no children. His mother, I guess? (She's our ex-sister-in-law. It gets complicated. When she and our brother got divorced, Nephew was very small. When she remarried, our brother allowed her new husband to adopt Nephew. They later divorced, and she remarried again. So Nephew has a birth father, an adopted father, and a step-father, all of whom have been very connected and involved. He has always been close to our family.)
Two weeks ago when I asked if he had a living will, my sister said no. Last night I made some comment about the lack of a living will, and Sister said that, um, uh, they'd, uh, found one. Located with the, uh, help of family friends. So there should be no problems, especially since I doubt that anyone would object to any decisions made by his mother.
They're talking about organ donation.
If I have to go to Florida, it will probably be on short notice, and more than two overnights, which gets complicated finding care for Miss Thunderfoot, so Roman has agreed to keep her for me for a few days if and when necessary. He likes cats. I am grateful.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
944 Rochester Strange
Saturday, October 28, 2006
I didn't get out of the house Tuesday as early as I'd planned. It's usually about a six hour drive to Rochester, and I wanted to get to Jay's father's house in time for dinner. I had been invited to stay there, but I prefer a hotel (I can keep my own hours), so I had a reservation nearby. I ended up calling from east of Syracuse to tell Jay's sister that I'd get there about seven pm. That was the first strangeness. SIL said that since Dad went to bed about 8, there was no point in my stopping by, so she assumed that I'd just go directly to my hotel and arrange for my own dinner.
Now, if it were anyone else, I'd say, well, there'd be an hour with him, and you'll be up later, right? But I long ago learned that when SIL says something, you simply accept. It's pointless and possibly even dangerous to question, suggest, or argue.
So I went to the hotel ... where the fire alarm went off at 10 pm, and blared for 45 minutes before the firemen turned it off. When it started, I had grabbed my jacket and purse and headed for the exit, but met some men coming up the stairs who said that the guy at the desk had said it was a false alarm and we could go back to our rooms. That bothered me. How could he be so sure it was a false alarm, without having checked upstairs? I don't know what the firemen did to decide they could turn the alarm off, but they didn't come upstairs, either. The only reason I decided to stay in the room was that my window opened onto the roof over the front door, so I had a backup escape route. (Well, the primary reason was that it was COLD outside.)
The next morning I went to Dad's. He was eating breakfast and didn't recognize me until SIL told him who I was. The first thing I noticed was that he was looking very frail, a lot more bent and unsteady on his feet. He has some dementia, but I'm not convinced it's Alzheimers.
One minute he and I would be having a good conversation about, oh, say the cycle of natural destruction, terraforming, and growth in the rainforest, and ten minutes later he'd decide (more like insist, over my protestations) that I was a security inspector with Homeland Security, interviewing him to get his views on what needs to be improved in Rochester. He argued that the street signs would confuse any emergency assistance from outside the area. He was very logical and reasonable in that argument, and also right - the Rochester metro area is a pastiche of small towns all schmushed seamlessly together, and each municipality has a different name for the same street, the street name changes at arbitrary points, and street signs are often absent, so even with a map it can be difficult to figure out what street you're on. The only strangeness in that conversation was that he didn't know who I was. Ten more minutes and he's telling me about how his hearing going, and vision so bad, and the iffy short-term memory, leaves him isolated and feeling that he has no control. Very aware and rational. Half hour later he's doing or saying something wildly irrational and very very strange, out of contact with his surroundings.
The good part is that he is apparently always pleasant and even-tempered. Which is interesting, because prior to his health problems, he was exacting, demanding, and irrascible.
I feel sorry for him. With the hearing and sight problems, he can't really read or watch TV. He used to go for long walks with his little dog every day, but is having difficulty walking now, so that's out. He has 24-hour caregivers, but I don't think they, like, read to him or whatever. So I guess he gets very little stimulation, dozes in his recliner most of the day. He does go to monthly luncheons with old coworkers and groups he used to be active in, so there's that. There's an elder center nearby that SIL tried to get him interested in a year or two ago, they have classes and field trips and activities, but I think he rejected that after deciding that the other elderly were, um, inane. I don't know what else can be done to make one day different from the day before.
The caregiver whom SIL had arrived to fire, being unaware that SIL was swooping in from Washington, had taken Dad on a 300-mile trip last weekend to visit her son in college. Of course Dad paid for the entire trip. SIL says he was so tired he slept all day Monday. When SIL fired the woman, she went through the kitchen and took all the food, claiming that she had paid for all of it.
I left at a little after 7 pm, when they were sitting down to dinner. I have a problem with my jaw at the moment, and can't chew, so I wasn't going to eat with them. By the way, note the time. The day before, 7 pm was too late for me to arrive. Oh, well.
SIL, the day caregiver, and Dad were leaving the next morning, Thursday, at 11 am to attend one of Dad's luncheons. I had to go home Thursday because I hadn't made arrangements for Miss Thunderfoot (and the original plan was for SIL to fly home Thursday, too, so I had assumed I'd be taking her to the airport on my way out, but she changed her flight to Friday). So I told SIL I'd stop in again before they left for the luncheon, and I'd call if it looked like I wouldn't make it.
When I arrived at 10 am (I ate breakfast first), I found Dad already in the car, and SIL and the day lady on their way out the door. They were leaving early because they wanted to stop at the bank and blah blah. Duh? SIL was angry at me for not having called. Duh? (She knew where I was staying. She could have called me.) I had to go to the bathroom so bad, the once-a-day one, ya know?, but I didn't feel like I could ask to use the bathroom. You don't inconvenience SIL. Especially when she has already determined that it's my fault for not calling. So I hugged Dad and left, and hurried to the first rest stop on the Thruway.
I don't know why I was so tired, but about four hours into the trip I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I took an hour nap in the car at a rest area. I got home a little after 6 pm.
It was all very strange.
I didn't get out of the house Tuesday as early as I'd planned. It's usually about a six hour drive to Rochester, and I wanted to get to Jay's father's house in time for dinner. I had been invited to stay there, but I prefer a hotel (I can keep my own hours), so I had a reservation nearby. I ended up calling from east of Syracuse to tell Jay's sister that I'd get there about seven pm. That was the first strangeness. SIL said that since Dad went to bed about 8, there was no point in my stopping by, so she assumed that I'd just go directly to my hotel and arrange for my own dinner.
Now, if it were anyone else, I'd say, well, there'd be an hour with him, and you'll be up later, right? But I long ago learned that when SIL says something, you simply accept. It's pointless and possibly even dangerous to question, suggest, or argue.
So I went to the hotel ... where the fire alarm went off at 10 pm, and blared for 45 minutes before the firemen turned it off. When it started, I had grabbed my jacket and purse and headed for the exit, but met some men coming up the stairs who said that the guy at the desk had said it was a false alarm and we could go back to our rooms. That bothered me. How could he be so sure it was a false alarm, without having checked upstairs? I don't know what the firemen did to decide they could turn the alarm off, but they didn't come upstairs, either. The only reason I decided to stay in the room was that my window opened onto the roof over the front door, so I had a backup escape route. (Well, the primary reason was that it was COLD outside.)
The next morning I went to Dad's. He was eating breakfast and didn't recognize me until SIL told him who I was. The first thing I noticed was that he was looking very frail, a lot more bent and unsteady on his feet. He has some dementia, but I'm not convinced it's Alzheimers.
One minute he and I would be having a good conversation about, oh, say the cycle of natural destruction, terraforming, and growth in the rainforest, and ten minutes later he'd decide (more like insist, over my protestations) that I was a security inspector with Homeland Security, interviewing him to get his views on what needs to be improved in Rochester. He argued that the street signs would confuse any emergency assistance from outside the area. He was very logical and reasonable in that argument, and also right - the Rochester metro area is a pastiche of small towns all schmushed seamlessly together, and each municipality has a different name for the same street, the street name changes at arbitrary points, and street signs are often absent, so even with a map it can be difficult to figure out what street you're on. The only strangeness in that conversation was that he didn't know who I was. Ten more minutes and he's telling me about how his hearing going, and vision so bad, and the iffy short-term memory, leaves him isolated and feeling that he has no control. Very aware and rational. Half hour later he's doing or saying something wildly irrational and very very strange, out of contact with his surroundings.
The good part is that he is apparently always pleasant and even-tempered. Which is interesting, because prior to his health problems, he was exacting, demanding, and irrascible.
I feel sorry for him. With the hearing and sight problems, he can't really read or watch TV. He used to go for long walks with his little dog every day, but is having difficulty walking now, so that's out. He has 24-hour caregivers, but I don't think they, like, read to him or whatever. So I guess he gets very little stimulation, dozes in his recliner most of the day. He does go to monthly luncheons with old coworkers and groups he used to be active in, so there's that. There's an elder center nearby that SIL tried to get him interested in a year or two ago, they have classes and field trips and activities, but I think he rejected that after deciding that the other elderly were, um, inane. I don't know what else can be done to make one day different from the day before.
The caregiver whom SIL had arrived to fire, being unaware that SIL was swooping in from Washington, had taken Dad on a 300-mile trip last weekend to visit her son in college. Of course Dad paid for the entire trip. SIL says he was so tired he slept all day Monday. When SIL fired the woman, she went through the kitchen and took all the food, claiming that she had paid for all of it.
I left at a little after 7 pm, when they were sitting down to dinner. I have a problem with my jaw at the moment, and can't chew, so I wasn't going to eat with them. By the way, note the time. The day before, 7 pm was too late for me to arrive. Oh, well.
SIL, the day caregiver, and Dad were leaving the next morning, Thursday, at 11 am to attend one of Dad's luncheons. I had to go home Thursday because I hadn't made arrangements for Miss Thunderfoot (and the original plan was for SIL to fly home Thursday, too, so I had assumed I'd be taking her to the airport on my way out, but she changed her flight to Friday). So I told SIL I'd stop in again before they left for the luncheon, and I'd call if it looked like I wouldn't make it.
When I arrived at 10 am (I ate breakfast first), I found Dad already in the car, and SIL and the day lady on their way out the door. They were leaving early because they wanted to stop at the bank and blah blah. Duh? SIL was angry at me for not having called. Duh? (She knew where I was staying. She could have called me.) I had to go to the bathroom so bad, the once-a-day one, ya know?, but I didn't feel like I could ask to use the bathroom. You don't inconvenience SIL. Especially when she has already determined that it's my fault for not calling. So I hugged Dad and left, and hurried to the first rest stop on the Thruway.
I don't know why I was so tired, but about four hours into the trip I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I took an hour nap in the car at a rest area. I got home a little after 6 pm.
It was all very strange.
Friday, October 27, 2006
943 I'm Back
Friday, October 27, 2006
I got home Thursday evening. About 6 pm-ish, I think. I don't remember. Lots of stuff happened, stuff I want to remember. Skeleton, to be fleshed out when I have more time:
Rochester
Birthday
Theater group
Nephew
I got home Thursday evening. About 6 pm-ish, I think. I don't remember. Lots of stuff happened, stuff I want to remember. Skeleton, to be fleshed out when I have more time:
Rochester
Birthday
Theater group
Nephew
Monday, October 23, 2006
942 Nephew
Monday, October 23, 2006
I worked at the museum this afternoon. When I got home there was a message on my phone from Sister. She hadn't been in touch because she'd had a bad cold and so hadn't been to the hospital, and had nothing to report. But today she had talked to ... someone ... and called to fill me in.
Nephew had a craniotomy on Saturday. They removed (presumably) necrotic matter from the frontal lobes (Sister said "front lobals", so I assume that's what she meant) to help reduce the swelling and give some breathing room. I guess the pneumonia must be better, because her message said he made it through the surgery just fine, although he's still in a coma.
I called her back this evening, but her phone went directly to message, so I assume she was at the hospital.
I'm a little surprised that the doctors employed such a drastic measure when they are not encouraging hope. (Good article on the function of the frontal lobes: http://www.neuroskills.com/tbi/bfrontal.shtml)
In other news, I got a call from a guy with the amateur theater group - they need help with set construction and lighting for the production opening this coming Sunday evening (I think...). I told him I would be out of town for a few days, but would be able to help probably Friday afternoon, definitely Saturday and Sunday. He was pleased. So am I.
I worked at the museum this afternoon. When I got home there was a message on my phone from Sister. She hadn't been in touch because she'd had a bad cold and so hadn't been to the hospital, and had nothing to report. But today she had talked to ... someone ... and called to fill me in.
Nephew had a craniotomy on Saturday. They removed (presumably) necrotic matter from the frontal lobes (Sister said "front lobals", so I assume that's what she meant) to help reduce the swelling and give some breathing room. I guess the pneumonia must be better, because her message said he made it through the surgery just fine, although he's still in a coma.
I called her back this evening, but her phone went directly to message, so I assume she was at the hospital.
I'm a little surprised that the doctors employed such a drastic measure when they are not encouraging hope. (Good article on the function of the frontal lobes: http://www.neuroskills.com/tbi/bfrontal.shtml)
In other news, I got a call from a guy with the amateur theater group - they need help with set construction and lighting for the production opening this coming Sunday evening (I think...). I told him I would be out of town for a few days, but would be able to help probably Friday afternoon, definitely Saturday and Sunday. He was pleased. So am I.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
941 Why Blogs Die
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Yesterday, looking for my past entry about Nephew at my mother's funeral, I reread a lot of my old entries, and was amazed at how much my journal has changed. The difference from the beginning on AOL in June of 2004 and now is amazing. I used to write a lot of opinion and observation. Now it's mainly "I went there, I did that", without a lot of thought or comment.
I started the journal on AOL when I was just starting to come out of the depression and isolation I had gone into when Jay died. I used it to work through my feelings, to remember our relationship, to think about what I had learned, to break the isolation. I needed to think some things through, to get some things out, to put them outside myself so I could let them go. I don't have to keep going over those things now in my head, they are someplace safe forever, not lost.
The journal didn't always show what was going on in my mind. The surface things I wrote about were often just the waves on top. I sometimes went into rants, which was an improvement on the prior three years of not feeling anything. It was an exercise in feeling.
Then Roman happened, and the character of the journal changed. Emotional stress. Too much feeling too suddenly, and no one to talk to about what was happening.
Some people who know that I keep a blog (but don't know where it is) have asked why (especially when their only knowledge of blogs is MySpace and the like, which horrifies them, they can't imagine me doing THAT!). The "why" changes as conditions change. Right now it's sort of just to keep track of my days. My daily notes.
So then thinking about that got me thinking about how over the past two years, many of the blogs I had been following have died, or have gone private, and I wondered if they "got old". I guess many of them probably died of old age and boredom. They had outlived their purpose.
Blogs with a theme, like photos, political comment or current events, seem to last longer than personal blogs. When they die, it's often because their readership got too large, trolls moved in, the comments area took on a life of its own, becoming virtually a chat room, and the blog owner finally lost patience with mediating arguments, taking abuse from idiots, and cleaning up the comments. So they close and lock the doors. Sometimes they open shop again in a different "storefront", under a different name.
Some personal blogs start out in the "I went here, I did that" vein, then some late night, the owner drops a bomb, a personal revelation that scares him or her, and they disappear. It appears to me that the need to make the revelation, to come clean, was probably the impetus for the blog in the first place, but the owner wasn't ready yet, took too long to get to it, and in the meantime built up a readership that they suddenly realized were NOT the people they really wanted to reveal this stuff to. Panic, end of blog.
Something I saw a lot of on AOL was scammer blogs, filled with sob stories of mistreatment, misfortune, and how bravely the blog owner is coping. They eventually build a loyal following of syncophants who will valiantly defend their hero against anyone who questions the inconsistencies in the stories, the blatant impossibilities, the similarities to old novels. Then comes the "it would make so much difference if I had a ....". I watched one woman scam a new computer with all the bells and whistles out of her readership. She was working on a car (her old one being too unreliable to pick up her emotionally disabled son at the residental facility for his Christmas visit home, etc, sob sob), when she suddenly went private. I guess she had her base of suckers, and didn't want any more of those nasty "why don't you look for a job" or "how come you can go visit a boyfriend in another state when you can't feed your child" hecklers. Easier to milk her victims in private, without interference.
And then there's the folks who talk about their life which (oh, wow!) intersects with the lives of others (no kidding!), or a job, and the others find the blog, and have fits. What they don't realize is that although they recognize themselves in entries, nobody else would recognize them! Only another friend in common or coworker could recognize them, and then if what it written is true and known, how can they reasonably object? I mean, is the blog owner not allowed to have observations? An opinion? Is it a law that you have to keep your opinions to yourself? And don't give me that "to the whole world!" crap. Nobody knows who you ARE! But the blogger gets so much guff he or she has to censor the blog out of existence.
I don't tell very many people who know me how to find this blog, but if anyone put even an ounce of thought into it they'd know exactly what to look for. And I don't care. Anything I may have said about anyone else is the truth as I see it, and certainly my opinion, and I am a very open person, so they already know what that opinion is. There should be no shocks. (Well, maybe the ditz from an entry or two back, but everyone knows she's a ditz, so it wouldn't be shocking to anyone else, and she's such a ditz that even given the date and the others at the table, she wouldn't recognize herself, and of all the people we know in common, she's the only one who would be stupid enough to explain it to the ditz. So, I'm safe.)
So, blogs grow up, learn, mature, and then either commit suicide, are murdered, or have fulfilled their purpose and die of old age.
Mine is going to limp on forever, through dementia, if necessary. Just like me. Something exciting might happen at any moment, and neither the blog nor I want to miss it.
Yesterday, looking for my past entry about Nephew at my mother's funeral, I reread a lot of my old entries, and was amazed at how much my journal has changed. The difference from the beginning on AOL in June of 2004 and now is amazing. I used to write a lot of opinion and observation. Now it's mainly "I went there, I did that", without a lot of thought or comment.
I started the journal on AOL when I was just starting to come out of the depression and isolation I had gone into when Jay died. I used it to work through my feelings, to remember our relationship, to think about what I had learned, to break the isolation. I needed to think some things through, to get some things out, to put them outside myself so I could let them go. I don't have to keep going over those things now in my head, they are someplace safe forever, not lost.
The journal didn't always show what was going on in my mind. The surface things I wrote about were often just the waves on top. I sometimes went into rants, which was an improvement on the prior three years of not feeling anything. It was an exercise in feeling.
Then Roman happened, and the character of the journal changed. Emotional stress. Too much feeling too suddenly, and no one to talk to about what was happening.
Some people who know that I keep a blog (but don't know where it is) have asked why (especially when their only knowledge of blogs is MySpace and the like, which horrifies them, they can't imagine me doing THAT!). The "why" changes as conditions change. Right now it's sort of just to keep track of my days. My daily notes.
So then thinking about that got me thinking about how over the past two years, many of the blogs I had been following have died, or have gone private, and I wondered if they "got old". I guess many of them probably died of old age and boredom. They had outlived their purpose.
Blogs with a theme, like photos, political comment or current events, seem to last longer than personal blogs. When they die, it's often because their readership got too large, trolls moved in, the comments area took on a life of its own, becoming virtually a chat room, and the blog owner finally lost patience with mediating arguments, taking abuse from idiots, and cleaning up the comments. So they close and lock the doors. Sometimes they open shop again in a different "storefront", under a different name.
Some personal blogs start out in the "I went here, I did that" vein, then some late night, the owner drops a bomb, a personal revelation that scares him or her, and they disappear. It appears to me that the need to make the revelation, to come clean, was probably the impetus for the blog in the first place, but the owner wasn't ready yet, took too long to get to it, and in the meantime built up a readership that they suddenly realized were NOT the people they really wanted to reveal this stuff to. Panic, end of blog.
Something I saw a lot of on AOL was scammer blogs, filled with sob stories of mistreatment, misfortune, and how bravely the blog owner is coping. They eventually build a loyal following of syncophants who will valiantly defend their hero against anyone who questions the inconsistencies in the stories, the blatant impossibilities, the similarities to old novels. Then comes the "it would make so much difference if I had a ....". I watched one woman scam a new computer with all the bells and whistles out of her readership. She was working on a car (her old one being too unreliable to pick up her emotionally disabled son at the residental facility for his Christmas visit home, etc, sob sob), when she suddenly went private. I guess she had her base of suckers, and didn't want any more of those nasty "why don't you look for a job" or "how come you can go visit a boyfriend in another state when you can't feed your child" hecklers. Easier to milk her victims in private, without interference.
And then there's the folks who talk about their life which (oh, wow!) intersects with the lives of others (no kidding!), or a job, and the others find the blog, and have fits. What they don't realize is that although they recognize themselves in entries, nobody else would recognize them! Only another friend in common or coworker could recognize them, and then if what it written is true and known, how can they reasonably object? I mean, is the blog owner not allowed to have observations? An opinion? Is it a law that you have to keep your opinions to yourself? And don't give me that "to the whole world!" crap. Nobody knows who you ARE! But the blogger gets so much guff he or she has to censor the blog out of existence.
I don't tell very many people who know me how to find this blog, but if anyone put even an ounce of thought into it they'd know exactly what to look for. And I don't care. Anything I may have said about anyone else is the truth as I see it, and certainly my opinion, and I am a very open person, so they already know what that opinion is. There should be no shocks. (Well, maybe the ditz from an entry or two back, but everyone knows she's a ditz, so it wouldn't be shocking to anyone else, and she's such a ditz that even given the date and the others at the table, she wouldn't recognize herself, and of all the people we know in common, she's the only one who would be stupid enough to explain it to the ditz. So, I'm safe.)
So, blogs grow up, learn, mature, and then either commit suicide, are murdered, or have fulfilled their purpose and die of old age.
Mine is going to limp on forever, through dementia, if necessary. Just like me. Something exciting might happen at any moment, and neither the blog nor I want to miss it.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
940 Called to Rochester
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Jay's eldest sister called this evening. I haven't talked with her in ages. Haven't seen her in more than a year. There seems to be a problem with one of Jay's father's caregivers, so she's going to be in Rochester next week to find out what's going on, and asked if I'd like to join her there. The problem? Strange charges showing up on the credit cards, the doctor called her and said he suspects emotional if not physical abuse, the vet called her and said the dog is losing weight, etc. Dad's got 24-hour care, there are several caretakers, so it may be a problem in more than one area.
I have to work at the museum on Monday, but I can drive to Rochester on Tuesday (a 6-hour drive) and return on Thursday. It will be nice to see both of them.
I just hope nothing critical happens in Orlando while I'm gone.
Jay's eldest sister called this evening. I haven't talked with her in ages. Haven't seen her in more than a year. There seems to be a problem with one of Jay's father's caregivers, so she's going to be in Rochester next week to find out what's going on, and asked if I'd like to join her there. The problem? Strange charges showing up on the credit cards, the doctor called her and said he suspects emotional if not physical abuse, the vet called her and said the dog is losing weight, etc. Dad's got 24-hour care, there are several caretakers, so it may be a problem in more than one area.
I have to work at the museum on Monday, but I can drive to Rochester on Tuesday (a 6-hour drive) and return on Thursday. It will be nice to see both of them.
I just hope nothing critical happens in Orlando while I'm gone.
939 I'm Tired of Looking Tired
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Every time I leave the house with no makeup on, and not just lately, it's been since my early thirties, people tell me I look tired. Or sick. I don't wear that much makeup - spot coverup on my scars, eyebrow pencil and brown eyeliner and mascara, and that's about it. Sometimes lipstick, sometimes powder, depending on how fancy I feel. Never base or rouge.
My main problem, I guess, is that my eyes are light, my eyebrows are scanty and blonde, almost not there, and my eyelashes, although long enough, are also blonde. So without makeup I look pale and washed out.
Two of the four recessed floodlights in the kitchen burned out today, so I went to the grocery store this evening to buy some. They didn't have any of the type I need, so I just got yogurt and bread. The checkout lady, one of my favorites, ask me what was wrong. I said "Nothing, why?", and she said I looked tired. I said no, that I just wasn't wearing any makeup. She proceded to tell me that I was even moving more slowly, like I was tired. I said no, I'm really ok. She said I even said that in a tired way.
I had been just fine when I went in. By the time I left, I did feel tired. She convinced me.
Sigh.
I'm half tempted to get eyebrows and eyeliner tattooed on, but I'm afraid they'd screw it up and I'd be stuck with a mess. Plus as I get older I might want the eyebrows lighter, and I don't know how that would work. Sister has tattooed eyeliner. I'll have to check hers out better next time I see her.
Sheesh. Wouldn't that hurt? What do you look like until it heals?
Every time I leave the house with no makeup on, and not just lately, it's been since my early thirties, people tell me I look tired. Or sick. I don't wear that much makeup - spot coverup on my scars, eyebrow pencil and brown eyeliner and mascara, and that's about it. Sometimes lipstick, sometimes powder, depending on how fancy I feel. Never base or rouge.
My main problem, I guess, is that my eyes are light, my eyebrows are scanty and blonde, almost not there, and my eyelashes, although long enough, are also blonde. So without makeup I look pale and washed out.
Two of the four recessed floodlights in the kitchen burned out today, so I went to the grocery store this evening to buy some. They didn't have any of the type I need, so I just got yogurt and bread. The checkout lady, one of my favorites, ask me what was wrong. I said "Nothing, why?", and she said I looked tired. I said no, that I just wasn't wearing any makeup. She proceded to tell me that I was even moving more slowly, like I was tired. I said no, I'm really ok. She said I even said that in a tired way.
I had been just fine when I went in. By the time I left, I did feel tired. She convinced me.
Sigh.
I'm half tempted to get eyebrows and eyeliner tattooed on, but I'm afraid they'd screw it up and I'd be stuck with a mess. Plus as I get older I might want the eyebrows lighter, and I don't know how that would work. Sister has tattooed eyeliner. I'll have to check hers out better next time I see her.
Sheesh. Wouldn't that hurt? What do you look like until it heals?
938 The Warden's Dilemma
Saturday, October 21, 2006
This week's book is The Warden Wore Pink, Tekla Dennison Miller's experiences as the first female warden of a Michigan male prison. I am enjoying her stories, like the incident of the car bombs.
There was reason to believe that one of five cars belonging to the warden and her staff had been rigged to blow up. The police sent a bomb squad. The owners of the cars were given a choice:
All five opted for choice #2.
The comic relief in her rendition of the story is provided by the media.
I've been thinking about it for four days now, and I still don't know what I would have chosen. If there was a bomb, they had an idea who would have been responsible for planting it. I might have let the car sit there indefinitely, until the culprit had been apprehended.
These five, after the police search, one by one, started their cars.
Eek! I don't know if I would have had that much faith or courage.
What would you have done?
This week's book is The Warden Wore Pink, Tekla Dennison Miller's experiences as the first female warden of a Michigan male prison. I am enjoying her stories, like the incident of the car bombs.
There was reason to believe that one of five cars belonging to the warden and her staff had been rigged to blow up. The police sent a bomb squad. The owners of the cars were given a choice:
- The police could absolutely guarantee that there was no bomb by stripping the cars down to the bare metal. "But we won't put them back together again."
- They could be reasonably sure there's no bomb by searching without stripping the cars completely, but "you'll have to start the cars yourself when we are finished." (This was 1977 - no remote starters)
- They would simply explode the cars.
All five opted for choice #2.
The comic relief in her rendition of the story is provided by the media.
I've been thinking about it for four days now, and I still don't know what I would have chosen. If there was a bomb, they had an idea who would have been responsible for planting it. I might have let the car sit there indefinitely, until the culprit had been apprehended.
These five, after the police search, one by one, started their cars.
Eek! I don't know if I would have had that much faith or courage.
What would you have done?
Friday, October 20, 2006
937 End of the Week
Friday, October 20, 2006
Catching up. Wednesday I went to the maritime museum and visited the Amistad. One of the crew members made a pretty strong pass. I deflected it. Last evening was the Third Thursday dinner. There were four of us - me, Roman, First Woman, and Super-Ditz. It was very enjoyable, some good and funny conversation.
After Super-Ditz left I'm afraid the three of us remaining made fun of her - not something I like to do, but , oh, she's SUCH a ditz it's irresistible. First Woman speculated that maybe she "puts on" the ditziness, but after considering that a while, we decided no, the woman is, well, I'm being nice calling her ditzy. She actually seems more just plain stupid.
She says things and holds opinions that when you hear them, you laugh, thinking she's making a joke. Then you realize she's serious. For example, she doesn't understand why we haven't nuked Iraq, and it's useless to attempt to explain to her why that's a very bad idea , because she hasn't the vaguest idea what's going on there or why. Her thinking is linear: war - nuke - end of war - what's the problem? She votes. That's scary. And yes, she's a Mensan. That's scarier.
After dinner Roman and I wandered around the mall a bit. At the cars we hugged, and I really didn't want to let go (I think he was holding on, too, he was stroking my hair), and he was about to kiss me, when I decided it was more than time to define the bounds of a friendship. I told him how I felt about him, BUT that there would be no more physical intimacy because I refuse to put myself into that position again. I just can't do that any more. Of course, there were a lot more words wrapped around it. We need to get past being uncomfortable. We need rules. Boundaries.
And I felt ok driving home.
Today I had lunch with Piper. He has embarked on a major weight loss and body building program. He's starting to look a lot better. I hope it has nothing to do with me. That way lies disappointment. I really don't see him that way at all. But he's starting to imply again that his relationship with the woman he lives with is platonic. Today he even said that he's free. I'll bet you a few hundred thousand that she doesn't see it that way, and from what I've heard of her, I wouldn't want to attract her anger.
May called this evening. I haven't heard from her since Moonlight Madness, Last June 11th. I had been worried about her that evening, and I followed her most of the way home to make sure she made it ok, and then the next day she called NJ, the hostess of Moonlight Madness, and furiously "tore her a new one", told her that she was never going to any more of her parties ever again. She was angry that I had followed her home, and blamed NJ. The whole thing was completely unreasonable. She and NJ have been good friends for at least twenty years.
NJ called me to warn me that May was angry and might call me to chew me out, but she never did. I figured she was even madder at me than at NJ and that's why she didn't call.
This is the woman whom I was so worried about back in June. It's very difficult to help her because she denies any problems and refuses all invitations (except for the twice-yearly parties at NJ's).
So I haven't called her, because I'd figured she wouldn't want to talk with me, and I'd given up on her anyway. There's only so much you can do.
So, she called this evening. She even called at a decent hour (she's been known to call people at 3 am). She sounded sober, sensible, and in good spirits. One problem is that she wants to stay on the phone forever, and she starts telling the same stories over and over, but I had a good excuse to cut the conversation short after 45 minutes - I hadn't heard from my sister about our nephew today, and I wanted to call her before 10 pm. So, anyway, that was good, knowing that she seems ok.
Then I tried to call Sister. We have either talked or I'd gotten email from her every day since Nephew's accident. Her last email was yesterday, and then she said he had developed pneumonia. Nothing today. So I called her cell phone just before 10 pm, and it went directly to voice mail. I didn't leave a message.
Things aren't good at all, so it's not a good sign that I've heard nothing today. Nephew's intracranial pressure, with the shunt, has been in the low 20s. That's not too bad. Adults can be conscious in the low 20s. When it goes over 30, the blood supply can be cut off and brain cells die. He's been at or just above 30 for brief periods. When it goes over 40, major damage is guaranteed. At some point in the past two days, they tried taking him off the paralytic meds, and he started thrashing around, and the pressure went over 60. Sister didn't know how long it was so high, but it doesn't take more than a few minutes to turn his brain to mush. Another ominous sign is that his blood pressure has remained pretty steady. When the intracranial pressure goes up, the blood pressure should also go up, in an attempt to force blood through the brain. Sister thinks it's a good sign that it didn't. I haven't corrected her. The pneumonia may be a blessing.
Sister gave me Nephew's mother's address (ex-sister-in-law) and suggested I send her a note. I haven't because for one thing, I don't know what to say - this is one area in which I am a major klutz, I never know what to say about any sensitive thing, I tend to giggle at funerals - and second, I'm afraid that by the time a snail-mail note got to her, the situation may have changed so much that whatever I say would be the wrong thing. I don't know what I should do. I've seen her exactly once in 37 years (at my mother's funeral, when she and Nephew were the cause of my giggles) so it's not like she's wondering why she hasn't heard from me.
Sigh. I gotta remember to pick up some duct tape. I've got too many warts, and they don't seem to be going away themselves.
Catching up. Wednesday I went to the maritime museum and visited the Amistad. One of the crew members made a pretty strong pass. I deflected it. Last evening was the Third Thursday dinner. There were four of us - me, Roman, First Woman, and Super-Ditz. It was very enjoyable, some good and funny conversation.
After Super-Ditz left I'm afraid the three of us remaining made fun of her - not something I like to do, but , oh, she's SUCH a ditz it's irresistible. First Woman speculated that maybe she "puts on" the ditziness, but after considering that a while, we decided no, the woman is, well, I'm being nice calling her ditzy. She actually seems more just plain stupid.
She says things and holds opinions that when you hear them, you laugh, thinking she's making a joke. Then you realize she's serious. For example, she doesn't understand why we haven't nuked Iraq, and it's useless to attempt to explain to her why that's a very bad idea , because she hasn't the vaguest idea what's going on there or why. Her thinking is linear: war - nuke - end of war - what's the problem? She votes. That's scary. And yes, she's a Mensan. That's scarier.
After dinner Roman and I wandered around the mall a bit. At the cars we hugged, and I really didn't want to let go (I think he was holding on, too, he was stroking my hair), and he was about to kiss me, when I decided it was more than time to define the bounds of a friendship. I told him how I felt about him, BUT that there would be no more physical intimacy because I refuse to put myself into that position again. I just can't do that any more. Of course, there were a lot more words wrapped around it. We need to get past being uncomfortable. We need rules. Boundaries.
And I felt ok driving home.
Today I had lunch with Piper. He has embarked on a major weight loss and body building program. He's starting to look a lot better. I hope it has nothing to do with me. That way lies disappointment. I really don't see him that way at all. But he's starting to imply again that his relationship with the woman he lives with is platonic. Today he even said that he's free. I'll bet you a few hundred thousand that she doesn't see it that way, and from what I've heard of her, I wouldn't want to attract her anger.
May called this evening. I haven't heard from her since Moonlight Madness, Last June 11th. I had been worried about her that evening, and I followed her most of the way home to make sure she made it ok, and then the next day she called NJ, the hostess of Moonlight Madness, and furiously "tore her a new one", told her that she was never going to any more of her parties ever again. She was angry that I had followed her home, and blamed NJ. The whole thing was completely unreasonable. She and NJ have been good friends for at least twenty years.
NJ called me to warn me that May was angry and might call me to chew me out, but she never did. I figured she was even madder at me than at NJ and that's why she didn't call.
This is the woman whom I was so worried about back in June. It's very difficult to help her because she denies any problems and refuses all invitations (except for the twice-yearly parties at NJ's).
So I haven't called her, because I'd figured she wouldn't want to talk with me, and I'd given up on her anyway. There's only so much you can do.
So, she called this evening. She even called at a decent hour (she's been known to call people at 3 am). She sounded sober, sensible, and in good spirits. One problem is that she wants to stay on the phone forever, and she starts telling the same stories over and over, but I had a good excuse to cut the conversation short after 45 minutes - I hadn't heard from my sister about our nephew today, and I wanted to call her before 10 pm. So, anyway, that was good, knowing that she seems ok.
Then I tried to call Sister. We have either talked or I'd gotten email from her every day since Nephew's accident. Her last email was yesterday, and then she said he had developed pneumonia. Nothing today. So I called her cell phone just before 10 pm, and it went directly to voice mail. I didn't leave a message.
Things aren't good at all, so it's not a good sign that I've heard nothing today. Nephew's intracranial pressure, with the shunt, has been in the low 20s. That's not too bad. Adults can be conscious in the low 20s. When it goes over 30, the blood supply can be cut off and brain cells die. He's been at or just above 30 for brief periods. When it goes over 40, major damage is guaranteed. At some point in the past two days, they tried taking him off the paralytic meds, and he started thrashing around, and the pressure went over 60. Sister didn't know how long it was so high, but it doesn't take more than a few minutes to turn his brain to mush. Another ominous sign is that his blood pressure has remained pretty steady. When the intracranial pressure goes up, the blood pressure should also go up, in an attempt to force blood through the brain. Sister thinks it's a good sign that it didn't. I haven't corrected her. The pneumonia may be a blessing.
Sister gave me Nephew's mother's address (ex-sister-in-law) and suggested I send her a note. I haven't because for one thing, I don't know what to say - this is one area in which I am a major klutz, I never know what to say about any sensitive thing, I tend to giggle at funerals - and second, I'm afraid that by the time a snail-mail note got to her, the situation may have changed so much that whatever I say would be the wrong thing. I don't know what I should do. I've seen her exactly once in 37 years (at my mother's funeral, when she and Nephew were the cause of my giggles) so it's not like she's wondering why she hasn't heard from me.
Sigh. I gotta remember to pick up some duct tape. I've got too many warts, and they don't seem to be going away themselves.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
936 Halloween "Decoration"?
Looking for something to do for Halloween, guaranteed to freak out your guests? Check out Triggur's idea.
935 Hafla, November 11
As a service to local (within 100 miles) aficionados, I am reproducing here the entire text of the invitation to the biggest, bestest, friendliest Hafla in the Mid-Hudson Valley.
Greetings Bellydance Lovers!
Our Hudson Valley Hafla will be happening on November 11, 2006 in Kingston, NY. Be sure to register soon to reserve your seat! And we have to know how much food to make. ;)
Here's all the information you need to know to come to this awesome event!
Crimson Gypsy Dance Productions Presents
Hudson Valley Hafla
Saturday, November 11, 2006
7:00 - 10:00 p.m. - doors open at 6:30 p.m.
White Eagle's Benevolent Society
487 Delaware Avenue - Kingston, NY 12401
The Evening Hafla will feature:
Prices:
General Admission - $20 in advance, $25 at the door.
Children 12 and under free.
Performers - $10, advance registration required.
Teachers who are performing get in for FREE! Advance registration required.
Hafla Information Webpage
www.crimsongypsy.com/dance/hafla.htm
Printable Registration Form
www.crimsongypsy.com/dance/haflaregistration.htm
[Edit - Willow's phone number and email address were here, but I have removed them for this post. If you need further information, contact me, Silk, through a comment, and I'll help.]
Website: www.crimsongypsy.com/dance
If you are looking for a local Hudson Valley Bellydance Teacher, look no further. The Hudson Valley has it all, Egyptian, Cabaret, American Tribal, Tribal Fusion, Sacred Goddess Temple Dance - so many styles are represented in the Hudson Valley! If you've been curious about trying a different style of bellydance or didn't know where to find classes, you can find local teacher contact information on Willow's Bellydance Class page - www.crimsongypsy.com/dance/classes.htm
All local teachers are listed there with the style of bellydance they teach and their contact information and websites! Check it out. There are bellydance classes EVERY night of the week, and with the lineup of amazing teachers in our area, you can't go wrong with any one of them! There is a bellydance style and teacher for everyone here.
That's it for now. But you can be sure there will be more exciting events coming up down the road. I'll be here to keep you posted on the bellydance events and happenings around the Hudson Valley. For more information and to be part of the network, join the Hudson Valley Bellydance Tribe at tribes.tribe.net/hvbellydance
Until next time, happy shimmies!
Peace, Love and Blessings,
Willow
-----------------------------------------
Greetings Bellydance Lovers!
Our Hudson Valley Hafla will be happening on November 11, 2006 in Kingston, NY. Be sure to register soon to reserve your seat! And we have to know how much food to make. ;)
Here's all the information you need to know to come to this awesome event!
Crimson Gypsy Dance Productions Presents
Hudson Valley Hafla
Saturday, November 11, 2006
7:00 - 10:00 p.m. - doors open at 6:30 p.m.
White Eagle's Benevolent Society
487 Delaware Avenue - Kingston, NY 12401
The Evening Hafla will feature:
- A LIVE DJ with plenty of OPEN DANCING for everyone.
- Performances by local teachers, dancers and students.
- Refreshments, Middle Eastern Appetizers and a light buffet will be served.
- Vendors selling sumptuous Middle Eastern Treasures!
- A cash bar will be available downstairs.
- Students and Teachers, Soloists and Troupes - All Styles - are welcome to perform!
- Middle Eastern Drummers and Musicians are welcome!
- Guests are welcome to come enjoy the Hafla. Bring your family and friends - whoever will enjoy an evening of bellydancing and fun!
Prices:
General Admission - $20 in advance, $25 at the door.
Children 12 and under free.
Performers - $10, advance registration required.
Teachers who are performing get in for FREE! Advance registration required.
Hafla Information Webpage
www.crimsongypsy.com/dance/hafla.htm
Printable Registration Form
www.crimsongypsy.com/dance/haflaregistration.htm
[Edit - Willow's phone number and email address were here, but I have removed them for this post. If you need further information, contact me, Silk, through a comment, and I'll help.]
Website: www.crimsongypsy.com/dance
******************************
If you are looking for a local Hudson Valley Bellydance Teacher, look no further. The Hudson Valley has it all, Egyptian, Cabaret, American Tribal, Tribal Fusion, Sacred Goddess Temple Dance - so many styles are represented in the Hudson Valley! If you've been curious about trying a different style of bellydance or didn't know where to find classes, you can find local teacher contact information on Willow's Bellydance Class page - www.crimsongypsy.com/dance/classes.htm
All local teachers are listed there with the style of bellydance they teach and their contact information and websites! Check it out. There are bellydance classes EVERY night of the week, and with the lineup of amazing teachers in our area, you can't go wrong with any one of them! There is a bellydance style and teacher for everyone here.
That's it for now. But you can be sure there will be more exciting events coming up down the road. I'll be here to keep you posted on the bellydance events and happenings around the Hudson Valley. For more information and to be part of the network, join the Hudson Valley Bellydance Tribe at tribes.tribe.net/hvbellydance
Until next time, happy shimmies!
Peace, Love and Blessings,
Willow
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
934 What Kind of Brain....
(Yeah, ok, I'm bored.)
You scored 45 Right-Brain, 45 Left-Brain, and 36 Dual-Thinking! |
Which category did you score highest in? That's your dominant brain hemisphere. Only about 2% of the population are "whole brain" thinkers. Most people have a strong preference for either left brain or right brain thinking. If you scored highest in: Left brain: You're more likely to use logic when making decisions. You enjoy analyzing situations, and don't mind paying attention to detail. You're effective at recognizing patterns and developing strategies, and tend to be cautious about taking risks. You may not have confidence in your ability to draw pictures well. Right brain: You're an intuitive thinker, and can see the "big picture." You're more likely to be artistic and creative. You are also more likely to understand and enjoy symbolism, spirituality, and philosophy. You enjoy drawing pictures. Dual-brain: Your brain hemispheres communicate with each other effectively, making you highly adaptable to many situations. Read the other two descriptions and evaluate how the ability to think of both the literal and the figurative have helped you make difficult decisions and to learn tough topics in your past. |
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| Link: The What Kind of Brain Are You Test written by MsTerious1 on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
933 Jack and the Cow
One day, when Daughter was about two and a half years old, she sauntered into the kitchen pulling her wheeled riding horsey.
Daughter: "Hi Man. My name Jack. This my cow."
Me: "Oh, my. What a nice cow."
Daughter: "You give me magic beans for cow?"
Me: "Why yes. That's such a nice looking cow, I'll give you six magic beans for her."
Daughter: "Ok."
Me: (Counting six pretend beans into her palm.)
Daughter: (Holding the palm with the beans under the cow's mouth) "Look cow. Man give me beans for you."
Cow: "(munch munch munch) Mmmmmm. Goooooood beans."
And then Daughter and Cow wandered out of the kitchen.
I figured next time I told her a story, I'd better be more specific.
Daughter: "Hi Man. My name Jack. This my cow."
Me: "Oh, my. What a nice cow."
Daughter: "You give me magic beans for cow?"
Me: "Why yes. That's such a nice looking cow, I'll give you six magic beans for her."
Daughter: "Ok."
Me: (Counting six pretend beans into her palm.)
Daughter: (Holding the palm with the beans under the cow's mouth) "Look cow. Man give me beans for you."
Cow: "(munch munch munch) Mmmmmm. Goooooood beans."
And then Daughter and Cow wandered out of the kitchen.
I figured next time I told her a story, I'd better be more specific.
932 Emotional IQ Test
| Expressive You scored 80% on validity, 54% on Maturity, 33% on Sublimation, and 100% on Wisdom! |
| You were straight foward and open in responding to the test therefore results are valid. You are a genuinely open person who has a great deal of awareness of the complexity involved in emotional situations and in being close with others. You tend to be dominated by whatever you feel at the time and you are a very expressive person. The key is that you do not allow your emotions to dominate you and you make decisions that are mature and well thought out. As a result, others know the way you feel and your relationships tend to be close, deep and satisfying. Folks always know where they stand with you and that is a real source of strength for you in your life. |
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| Link: The Emotional IQ Test written by serenity737 on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
931 Amistad
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
It's raining today. Blah day. I don't "do" rain well.
The recreation of the 19th century schooner La Amistad has been at the Maritime Museum for a few days. I worked yesterday at the museum from noon to six, but Monday is the crew's day off, so I didn't get to go on board. Many of the crew members visited the museum, so I talked with a few of them. Tomorrow they'll have a special time for volunteers to visit, after the school groups and before the general public, so I'll go then.
The following images are scans from the brochure. For more information, see the Amistad website.
(Visit sponsored by The Bruderhof Foundation, Rondout Savings Bank, and Ulster Federal Savings Union. Donors: Central Husdon Gas and Electric, and River Radiology.)
It's raining today. Blah day. I don't "do" rain well.
The recreation of the 19th century schooner La Amistad has been at the Maritime Museum for a few days. I worked yesterday at the museum from noon to six, but Monday is the crew's day off, so I didn't get to go on board. Many of the crew members visited the museum, so I talked with a few of them. Tomorrow they'll have a special time for volunteers to visit, after the school groups and before the general public, so I'll go then.
The following images are scans from the brochure. For more information, see the Amistad website.
(Visit sponsored by The Bruderhof Foundation, Rondout Savings Bank, and Ulster Federal Savings Union. Donors: Central Husdon Gas and Electric, and River Radiology.)
Monday, October 16, 2006
930 Nephew
Monday, October 16, 2006
Nephew, earlier this year. He's 37 years old. He has "our" family nose and cheeks, and his mother's eyes.
When he was a child, starting at about age 3, whenever anyone asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he always answered, "I want to be a fireman!"
And everyone smiled and patted him on the head.
When he was a teenager, and people asked him what he wanted to do, he always said "I want to be a fireman!" And people nodded, and figuratively patted him on the head. "No, really. What do you really want to do?" Eventually he just said "I don't know."
Then he started college, on some business track that he had been guided into, like with a lot of accounting. He was living with my mother (his grandmother). He obviously wasn't happy. So my mother sat him down one night and asked him what was wrong. He said he hated the classes he was taking, and saw no future in any of it. She asked him "What do you really want to do?"
She said he looked up with tears in his eyes, and wailed "I want to be a fireman." Mom helped him to change academic track. And it was good.
He is an Orlando fire fighter.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
929 Fashion and Glasses
Sunday, October 15, 2006
I currently have two pairs of glasses. I always have two, because I'm so blind I can't chance being without. These two are very similar, same style, just slightly different color.
It's time for new. They're looking a little battered, but I refuse to buy new frames right now. The fashionistas have declared that we must all wear straight-across narrow frames, regardless of our facial shape or visual needs. I HATE the shape! I've visited every shop in the area, and that's ALL they have.
Why do they think we all want the same thing?
That straight narrow shape is not good for my face. They just emphasize the width of my nose. But worse, I like a deep lens because my neck is a bit delicate. With a deep lens (I have bifocals) I can look up (distance) or down (near) without moving my head, just my eyes. With a narrow lens, I am forced to tilt my head to (for example) see the keyboard, or the dinner plate, and that will almost guarantee a krick in my neck.
If you need glasses to see, a narrow lens reduces your visual field. That's never good.
I hate those skinny frames! I think they look stupid. But they've been out long enough now that almost everyone has them, and my deep lenses now look sadly old-fashioned.
On the other hand, they've been out long enough that almost everyone has had to buy them, so we're ripe for the manufacturers to change the style, so all the herd-followers will have to buy new ones. Money, money.
Daughter has new glasses, and she got the "frameless" kind. I hadn't been able to find frameless or half-frame in like 15 years, and I love that style, so maybe (I hope!) that's the direction they're moving. You can have almost any shape lens with frameless. I just hope I can hold out one more year (or however long it takes for a new style to show up in this backward area).
Why do we allow designers to dictate what we wear? Arise! Revolt! Glasses are not a fashion accessory and should not be treated as such. For some of us they are a necessity, and our needs and preferences should be considered.
I currently have two pairs of glasses. I always have two, because I'm so blind I can't chance being without. These two are very similar, same style, just slightly different color.
It's time for new. They're looking a little battered, but I refuse to buy new frames right now. The fashionistas have declared that we must all wear straight-across narrow frames, regardless of our facial shape or visual needs. I HATE the shape! I've visited every shop in the area, and that's ALL they have.
Why do they think we all want the same thing?
That straight narrow shape is not good for my face. They just emphasize the width of my nose. But worse, I like a deep lens because my neck is a bit delicate. With a deep lens (I have bifocals) I can look up (distance) or down (near) without moving my head, just my eyes. With a narrow lens, I am forced to tilt my head to (for example) see the keyboard, or the dinner plate, and that will almost guarantee a krick in my neck.
If you need glasses to see, a narrow lens reduces your visual field. That's never good.
I hate those skinny frames! I think they look stupid. But they've been out long enough now that almost everyone has them, and my deep lenses now look sadly old-fashioned.
On the other hand, they've been out long enough that almost everyone has had to buy them, so we're ripe for the manufacturers to change the style, so all the herd-followers will have to buy new ones. Money, money.
Daughter has new glasses, and she got the "frameless" kind. I hadn't been able to find frameless or half-frame in like 15 years, and I love that style, so maybe (I hope!) that's the direction they're moving. You can have almost any shape lens with frameless. I just hope I can hold out one more year (or however long it takes for a new style to show up in this backward area).
Why do we allow designers to dictate what we wear? Arise! Revolt! Glasses are not a fashion accessory and should not be treated as such. For some of us they are a necessity, and our needs and preferences should be considered.
928 Nephew
Sunday, October 15, 2006
The nephew isn't better, but he's not worse, either. He has a shunt to release pressure. With the shunt open, the intracranial pressure remains in the low 20s. When they close the shunt, it rapidly shoots over 30. I have to wonder why they'd experiment with closing it. Sheesh. It's sort of like testing whether water is boiling by sticking your finger in it.
He's still described as in a coma, but a nurse asked him to give her a "thumbs up", and he did. The hospital has restricted his visitation, and have asked people to not touch him or talk at all, even to each other, when they are in his room. I sort of do and sort of don't understand that. With the fire department folks sitting vigil, he was getting a lot of visitors, and maybe they were thinking that if he is aware, it's tiring him.
So, we wait.
The nephew isn't better, but he's not worse, either. He has a shunt to release pressure. With the shunt open, the intracranial pressure remains in the low 20s. When they close the shunt, it rapidly shoots over 30. I have to wonder why they'd experiment with closing it. Sheesh. It's sort of like testing whether water is boiling by sticking your finger in it.
He's still described as in a coma, but a nurse asked him to give her a "thumbs up", and he did. The hospital has restricted his visitation, and have asked people to not touch him or talk at all, even to each other, when they are in his room. I sort of do and sort of don't understand that. With the fire department folks sitting vigil, he was getting a lot of visitors, and maybe they were thinking that if he is aware, it's tiring him.
So, we wait.
927 Sunday
Sunday, October 15, 2006
I went to Rakkasah yesterday, mainly to see Willow dance. She was, as usual, terrific. The audience response was extremely positive, especially considering that it was improvisation to a live band, as opposed to a rehearsed routine to recorded music.
I didn't get there until after 6 pm, but it seemed like all the best dancers were from 6 to 11, so even though I was there for such a short time, I was satisfied. Others who were there were staying through today, but when I was about to put my makeup on in the hotel room this morning, I suddenly decided I didn't want to, and I wanted to go home. I don't know why. I just felt tired, drained. My feet hurt because I had worn the wrong shoes Saturday, and I hadn't brought any others.
I almost fell asleep on the 2.5 hour drive home. I wore my bedroom slippers to drive home. And no makeup.
I got home about 1:30, lay across the bed to read a bit, and fell asleep. I didn't wake up until after 5 pm. This is highly unusual for me.
When I got to the hotel room last night, according to the thermostat it was 70 degrees F in the room, and it felt cold to me. I boosted it to 75, and still felt cold all night. When I got home, the thermostat said it was 75 in my house, and I felt cold. I've boosted it to 77, and I still feel cold. I had about convinced myself that there was something wrong with my home thermostat, that it was registering high, but now I wonder. It's not likely that the hotel thermostat was also registering high. I think I'm just feeling cold. My hands, feet, arms, legs, face - sometimes it feels like my nose is about to fall off. I get shivers. I don't think it's a circulation problem, 'cause everything's still pink.
A few days ago I felt like I had a fever, you know, that "loggy" feeling?, so I took my temperature. It was 96.2 oral. I thought maybe there was something wrong with the thermometer, so I tried again with a different one. Same result. I have always run a bit low - 97.7 to 98.2 is normal for me - but this is unusually low.
Thyroid? Insulin? I guess I should do a little research. My internal thermostat might have gotten reset this summer when the A/C was screwed up and it got into the 90s in the house.
Right now I'm too tired to think about it. (Hmmm. That sounds thyroid, too. Could also explain why I haven't been able to lose any more weight.) Funniest thing is that when I kick myself into gear, I'm fine as long as I keep moving. It's only when I stop that I feel so tired.
Whatever.
I went to Rakkasah yesterday, mainly to see Willow dance. She was, as usual, terrific. The audience response was extremely positive, especially considering that it was improvisation to a live band, as opposed to a rehearsed routine to recorded music.
I didn't get there until after 6 pm, but it seemed like all the best dancers were from 6 to 11, so even though I was there for such a short time, I was satisfied. Others who were there were staying through today, but when I was about to put my makeup on in the hotel room this morning, I suddenly decided I didn't want to, and I wanted to go home. I don't know why. I just felt tired, drained. My feet hurt because I had worn the wrong shoes Saturday, and I hadn't brought any others.
I almost fell asleep on the 2.5 hour drive home. I wore my bedroom slippers to drive home. And no makeup.
I got home about 1:30, lay across the bed to read a bit, and fell asleep. I didn't wake up until after 5 pm. This is highly unusual for me.
When I got to the hotel room last night, according to the thermostat it was 70 degrees F in the room, and it felt cold to me. I boosted it to 75, and still felt cold all night. When I got home, the thermostat said it was 75 in my house, and I felt cold. I've boosted it to 77, and I still feel cold. I had about convinced myself that there was something wrong with my home thermostat, that it was registering high, but now I wonder. It's not likely that the hotel thermostat was also registering high. I think I'm just feeling cold. My hands, feet, arms, legs, face - sometimes it feels like my nose is about to fall off. I get shivers. I don't think it's a circulation problem, 'cause everything's still pink.
A few days ago I felt like I had a fever, you know, that "loggy" feeling?, so I took my temperature. It was 96.2 oral. I thought maybe there was something wrong with the thermometer, so I tried again with a different one. Same result. I have always run a bit low - 97.7 to 98.2 is normal for me - but this is unusually low.
Thyroid? Insulin? I guess I should do a little research. My internal thermostat might have gotten reset this summer when the A/C was screwed up and it got into the 90s in the house.
Right now I'm too tired to think about it. (Hmmm. That sounds thyroid, too. Could also explain why I haven't been able to lose any more weight.) Funniest thing is that when I kick myself into gear, I'm fine as long as I keep moving. It's only when I stop that I feel so tired.
Whatever.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
926 Nephew
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Update on my nephew in Orlando: He "popped a wheelie" on his motorcycle (whether it was on purpose or not is unknown), and went over backward, striking the back of his head on the pavement. Then apparently the front of the motorcycle hit his face. His girlfriend was following him in a car, so he got 911 assistance immediately. His skull is fractured, and his brain is swelling. He apparently wasn't moving too fast at the time, so he has no other injuries. The doctors are not encouraging, but that may just be preparing the family for the worst.
Naturally, being me, I asked my sister whether they had opened his skull to relieve pressure, what medications he was on, and so on. Naturally, being her, my sister didn't know.
On a different front, I have changed the comment processing so that I have to approve comments before they are posted, so if you leave a comment, you won't see it for a while. Don't worry - it will eventually appear. I did this because someone from my past has contacted me through a comment on an archived entry, and she's not sure I am who she thinks I am (I am!), so she didn't leave contact information. Naturally, I don't want to leave specifics as to my name or other identifying info in a comment either. So - If I have to approve comments before they are posted, she can give me her email address in a comment, I won't post the comment, and then we can get more specific outside the public eye.
Update on my nephew in Orlando: He "popped a wheelie" on his motorcycle (whether it was on purpose or not is unknown), and went over backward, striking the back of his head on the pavement. Then apparently the front of the motorcycle hit his face. His girlfriend was following him in a car, so he got 911 assistance immediately. His skull is fractured, and his brain is swelling. He apparently wasn't moving too fast at the time, so he has no other injuries. The doctors are not encouraging, but that may just be preparing the family for the worst.
Naturally, being me, I asked my sister whether they had opened his skull to relieve pressure, what medications he was on, and so on. Naturally, being her, my sister didn't know.
On a different front, I have changed the comment processing so that I have to approve comments before they are posted, so if you leave a comment, you won't see it for a while. Don't worry - it will eventually appear. I did this because someone from my past has contacted me through a comment on an archived entry, and she's not sure I am who she thinks I am (I am!), so she didn't leave contact information. Naturally, I don't want to leave specifics as to my name or other identifying info in a comment either. So - If I have to approve comments before they are posted, she can give me her email address in a comment, I won't post the comment, and then we can get more specific outside the public eye.
Friday, October 13, 2006
925 Positive Vibes Requested
Friday, October 13, 2006
Please send positive thoughts in the direction of Orlando, Florida. My brother's son, the fireman, had a motorcycle accident last night and is in a coma. I have no other details at this time.
Please send positive thoughts in the direction of Orlando, Florida. My brother's son, the fireman, had a motorcycle accident last night and is in a coma. I have no other details at this time.
924 Things I've done...
Yeah, these things are silly, but I feel like I have to do them anyway just to "see what I get". Sorta like opening the prize package in the cracker jacks box - you know it's junk, but you have to see it anyway. And then compare it to what your buddy got.
Meme lifted from True. Items in bold are things that I've done. I took it a step farther by "explaining" some.
Meme lifted from True. Items in bold are things that I've done. I took it a step farther by "explaining" some.
- Bought everyone in the bar a drink.
- Swam with wild dolphins
- Climbed a mountain. I think climbing Red Rock before there was a trail should count.
- Took a Ferrari for a test drive
- Rode in an airplane.
- Been inside the Great Pyramid.
- Held a tarantula.
- Took a candlelit bath with someone. I suspect the questions means a romantic episode. But I'm counting the time our electricity was out for almost two weeks, and we had to heat snow on a camp stove to bathe. You bet Jay and I shared a candlelit bath!
- Said “I love you’ and meant it.
- Hugged a tree.
- Bungee jumped.
- Visited Paris.
- Watched a lightning storm at sea.
- Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise.
- Saw the Northern Lights.
- Went to a huge sports game.
- Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa. Nope. But I've been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and I've climbed to the top of the Washington Monument.
- Grew and ate your own vegetables.
- Touched an iceberg. ...But I've touched a glacier. That's the mother of icebergs....
- Slept under the stars.
- Changed a baby’s diaper.
- Took a trip in a hot air balloon.
- Watched a meteor shower.
- Got drunk on champagne.
- Gave more than you can afford to charity.
- Looked up at the night sky through a telescope.
- Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment.
- Had a food fight.
- Bet on a winning horse.
- Asked out a stranger.
- Had a snowball fight.
- Screamed as loudly as you possibly could.
- Held a lamb.
- Saw a total eclipse.
- Rode a roller coaster.
- Hit a home run.
- Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking.
- Adopted an accent for an entire day.
- Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment.
- Had two hard drives for your computer.
- Visited all 50 states.
- Took care of someone who was drunk.
- Had amazing friends.
- Danced with a stranger in a foreign country.
- Watched wild whales.
- Stole a sign.
- Backpacked in Europe.
- Took a roadtrip.
- Went rock climbing. Not the kind with the ropes and stuff.
- Midnight walk on the beach. ... and the sand fleas ate us alive!
- Went sky diving.
- Visited Ireland. Wales, but not Ireland. Tsk. I guess Ireland just has a better tourist board.
- Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love.
- In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them.
- Had a stranger ask you to dance.
- Visited Japan. This is a sore point. I was promised a trip to Japan if I accepted the last internal transfer. They renegued.
- Milked a cow.
- Alphabetized your CDs.
- Pretended to be a superhero.
- Sang karaoke.
- Lounged around in bed all day.
- Went scuba diving.
- Kissed in the rain.
- Kissed on a first date. Not if I considered it a "first date".
- Played in the mud.
- Played in the rain. When I was teaching high school math my students used to laugh at my sailing paper boats in the gutters during summer showers.
- Went to a drive-in theater.
- Visited the Great Wall of China.
- Started a business.
- Fell in love and not had your heart broken.
- Toured ancient sites.
- Took a martial arts class.
- Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight.
- Got married.
- Been in a movie.
- Crashed a party.
- Got divorced.
- Went without food for 5 days.
- Made cookies from scratch.
- Won first prize in a costume contest.
- Won first prize in a limbo contest.
- Rode a gondola in Venice.
- Got a tattoo.
- Rafted the Snake River.
- Was on television news programs as an “expert”.
- Got flowers for no reason.
- Performed on stage. Amateur.
- Have been to Las Vegas.
- Recorded music.
- Ate alligator.
- Had a one-night stand.
- Bought a house.
- Have been in a combat zone.
- Buried one/both of your parents.
- Looked out onto the Atlantic Ocean.
- Looked out onto the Pacific Ocean.
- Have been on a cruise ship.
- Spoke more than one language fluently.
- Performed in Rocky Horror.
- Raised children.
- Followed your favorite band/singer on tour.
- Picked up and moved to another city to just start over.
- Walked the Golden Gate Bridge.
- Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking. Doesn't everyone sing along with Miss American Pie? People in the next car recognize it even if they can't hear it, and they join in!
- Had plastic surgery. Removal of a wen on my nose, and reduction of hooded eyelids. It must have been plastic surgery, 'cause insurance wouldn't pay for it.
- Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived.
- Thanked God that He got you home safely.
- Lost over 100 pounds. Not all at once. Does it count if I lost the same ten pounds ten times?
- Held someone while they were having a flashback.
- Piloted an airplane.
- Petted a stingray.
- Broke someone’s heart.
- Helped an animal give birth.
- Won money on a T.V. game show.
- Broke a bone. My own, and someone else's.
- Went on an African photo safari.
- Bailed a friend out of jail.
- Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced. They pierced four holes on my belly when they removed my gall bladder. Does that count?
- Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol.
- Ate mushrooms that were gathered in the wild.
- Rode a horse.
- Had major surgery.
- Had a snake as a pet.
- Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours.
- Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states.
- Rode a mechanical bull
- Visited all 7 continents.
- Took a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days.
- Had a specific prayer answered.
- Ate kangaroo meat.
- Ate sushi.
- Had your picture in the newspaper.
- Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about.
- Went back to school.
- Parasailed.
- Ate fried green tomatoes. I missed them this summer, because unless you grow them yourself, it's almost impossible to find green tomatoes.
- Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey.
- Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
- Skipped all your school reunions.
- Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language.
- Was elected to public office.
- Wrote your own computer language. Not quite. I wrote a compiler.
- Had a true spiritual experience.
- Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream.
- Had to put someone you love into hospice care.
- Built your own PC from parts.
- Changed a tire.
- Skinny dipped.
- Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you.
- Have been friends with someone longer than 30 years.
- Dyed your hair.
- Have been a DJ.
- Shaved your head.
- Traveled to a tropical island.
- Caused a car accident.
- Faced a fear.
- Saved someone’s life.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
923 Ah, Youth
Thursday, October 12, 2006
I found this photo today. It's me in 1994. I was 50 years old. I'm surprised at how much I've aged in only twelve years. Now I'm starting to think "facelift" again. (No, that's thinking about again. Not having again. I've never had a facelift, although I did have excess eyelid tissue removed in about 1991 or so.)
I'm annoyed with the Blogger technical folks. There's a "search" field up there in the header. If you put "Daughter" in that field, and click on "Search This Blog", you get only the latest three posts! Even if I use advanced search and specify a wide range of dates, I get only the latest three.
Considering that I use this blog as my external memory, this is a big problem. I want to be able to look for the history of complaints about the van, for example. Or the days I put in volunteer time. Or whatever. (Luckily, I copy entries to a script file, and I can search there, but it's still annoying.)
"Help" natters about feeds. It will return results only since you've been providing feeds. I do provide an RSS feed (otherwise Bloglines wouldn't find me), and have since the beginning, so that's not the problem. Also, it used to work! It used to return a full list of hits, all the way to the beginning.
I sent an email to blogsearch-support@google.com, and got back canned responses (two, to my one email) advising me to read the "Help". Apparently they didn't even read my email, wherein I said I am doing everything Help says I should, and have since the beginning.
So - anyone reading this who also uses Blogger - does search work for you on your blog? I've tried it on several, and I consistently get only three hits (well, except once when I searched one blog for the word "not", and got four hits. You KNOW there were more than that!) Maybe the magic number is not three entries, but one month? But then if it is a time limit, why do they offer an unlimited time span in the advanced search, and then ignore it?
Any suggestions?
Anyone willing to pick up the gauntlet and fight it out with the Google/Blogger folks?
I found this photo today. It's me in 1994. I was 50 years old. I'm surprised at how much I've aged in only twelve years. Now I'm starting to think "facelift" again. (No, that's thinking about again. Not having again. I've never had a facelift, although I did have excess eyelid tissue removed in about 1991 or so.)
I'm annoyed with the Blogger technical folks. There's a "search" field up there in the header. If you put "Daughter" in that field, and click on "Search This Blog", you get only the latest three posts! Even if I use advanced search and specify a wide range of dates, I get only the latest three.
Considering that I use this blog as my external memory, this is a big problem. I want to be able to look for the history of complaints about the van, for example. Or the days I put in volunteer time. Or whatever. (Luckily, I copy entries to a script file, and I can search there, but it's still annoying.)
"Help" natters about feeds. It will return results only since you've been providing feeds. I do provide an RSS feed (otherwise Bloglines wouldn't find me), and have since the beginning, so that's not the problem. Also, it used to work! It used to return a full list of hits, all the way to the beginning.
I sent an email to blogsearch-support@google.com, and got back canned responses (two, to my one email) advising me to read the "Help". Apparently they didn't even read my email, wherein I said I am doing everything Help says I should, and have since the beginning.
So - anyone reading this who also uses Blogger - does search work for you on your blog? I've tried it on several, and I consistently get only three hits (well, except once when I searched one blog for the word "not", and got four hits. You KNOW there were more than that!) Maybe the magic number is not three entries, but one month? But then if it is a time limit, why do they offer an unlimited time span in the advanced search, and then ignore it?
Any suggestions?
Anyone willing to pick up the gauntlet and fight it out with the Google/Blogger folks?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
922 Where Are the Snakes?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
I saw a road-killed snake yesterday, curled up in the center of my lane. It looked like a large blacksnake. That's when I realized that's the first wild snake I've seen in years.
Where are all the snakes?
It occurs to me that I haven't seen a snake in my front yard in three or four years. Used to be that there were always garter snakes around. I'd see them in the flower bed near the front door when I went out to the car, or in the back yard when I went to the basement door. Always slithering away from the mower when I cut the grass. Of course, I haven't done the mowing myself in five years, but I DO still walk around on the grass....
I'd often see a snake in the woods when I walked (having grown up on a mountain with rattlesnakes and copperheads galore, I tend to be very conscious of the places snakes like, movements in the leaves, the smell of them (copperheads smell like cucumbers, a large rattler has a musky tangy smell, possibly the urine, or the musk they lay for marking trails...)). I'd usually see at least one or two snakes, large or small, run over somewhere on the roads every month, spring through fall. In the spring, there'd be shed snakeskins under the bushes, and I'd drape them over tree branches. Birds collected them to weave into their nests.
Not lately.
Turtles are missing, too.
I used to often see turtles crossing the roads in the spring, when they'd be looking for mates and for places to lay eggs. It used to be so common that I carried a snowshovel in my car so I could help big snappers across before they got hit. You'd see a lot of squashed turtles on the road.
One time, a few years ago, right out here where my street meets the highway, I saw a turtle crossing in the middle of my lane. A big female box turtle. I pulled over, and was running back down the road to move her across, when a car came from the other direction, and the S.O.B. actually crossed the center line to hit her. I was furious. When I realized he was trying to hit her on purpose, I actually wished she'd have a very hard shell and flip his car. Then I wished I had a gun. Then I cried. I intensely dislike people like that. Someone should run THEM down.
Anyway, I haven't seen a turtle on the road, live or dead, in a long time. I've been to ponds where painted turtles live, and they're still there, but they seem to be fewer. And smaller.
Where have they all gone?
Secondary question - if the snakes are scarce, why aren't there more crickets and mice? Ten years ago we fought a constant battle in this house against mice and crickets, and in the yard against moles. We appreciated the assistance of the garter snakes and the blacksnakes in our war. (Jay had seriously suggested catching a blacksnake and setting it loose in the basement, but dropped the idea when I pointed out that the snake would knock down all the insulation in the basement ceiling. Otherwise I sorta liked the idea, too.)
We've got fewer mice and crickets. I had only one cricket in the house this year.
So which disappeared first - the prey or the hunter?
I saw a road-killed snake yesterday, curled up in the center of my lane. It looked like a large blacksnake. That's when I realized that's the first wild snake I've seen in years.
Where are all the snakes?
It occurs to me that I haven't seen a snake in my front yard in three or four years. Used to be that there were always garter snakes around. I'd see them in the flower bed near the front door when I went out to the car, or in the back yard when I went to the basement door. Always slithering away from the mower when I cut the grass. Of course, I haven't done the mowing myself in five years, but I DO still walk around on the grass....
I'd often see a snake in the woods when I walked (having grown up on a mountain with rattlesnakes and copperheads galore, I tend to be very conscious of the places snakes like, movements in the leaves, the smell of them (copperheads smell like cucumbers, a large rattler has a musky tangy smell, possibly the urine, or the musk they lay for marking trails...)). I'd usually see at least one or two snakes, large or small, run over somewhere on the roads every month, spring through fall. In the spring, there'd be shed snakeskins under the bushes, and I'd drape them over tree branches. Birds collected them to weave into their nests.
Not lately.
Turtles are missing, too.
I used to often see turtles crossing the roads in the spring, when they'd be looking for mates and for places to lay eggs. It used to be so common that I carried a snowshovel in my car so I could help big snappers across before they got hit. You'd see a lot of squashed turtles on the road.
One time, a few years ago, right out here where my street meets the highway, I saw a turtle crossing in the middle of my lane. A big female box turtle. I pulled over, and was running back down the road to move her across, when a car came from the other direction, and the S.O.B. actually crossed the center line to hit her. I was furious. When I realized he was trying to hit her on purpose, I actually wished she'd have a very hard shell and flip his car. Then I wished I had a gun. Then I cried. I intensely dislike people like that. Someone should run THEM down.
Anyway, I haven't seen a turtle on the road, live or dead, in a long time. I've been to ponds where painted turtles live, and they're still there, but they seem to be fewer. And smaller.
Where have they all gone?
Secondary question - if the snakes are scarce, why aren't there more crickets and mice? Ten years ago we fought a constant battle in this house against mice and crickets, and in the yard against moles. We appreciated the assistance of the garter snakes and the blacksnakes in our war. (Jay had seriously suggested catching a blacksnake and setting it loose in the basement, but dropped the idea when I pointed out that the snake would knock down all the insulation in the basement ceiling. Otherwise I sorta liked the idea, too.)
We've got fewer mice and crickets. I had only one cricket in the house this year.
So which disappeared first - the prey or the hunter?
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
921 First Week
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Every year I am grateful when the first week of October passes with no personal disasters. Jay's back gave out completely in the first week of October. His head-on automobile accident was in the first week of October. Notice that he was being sued for that accident (three million!) came in the first week of the next October. His first seizure. The MRI that showed his first relapse. The first signs of loss of his left side. The start of the final infection. Every year, the first week of October, something awful happened. Yeah, awful things happened other times, too, but there was always something really bad the first week in October.
Since he's been gone, there have been five more Octobers. A few of them have had minor disasters (like last October, the beginning of the end with Roman, I just didn't know it at the time), but nothing I couldn't recover from. No total disasters.
That's good. Sigh of relief.
I don't know how long it will be before I can consider the first week of October as just another week.
Every year I am grateful when the first week of October passes with no personal disasters. Jay's back gave out completely in the first week of October. His head-on automobile accident was in the first week of October. Notice that he was being sued for that accident (three million!) came in the first week of the next October. His first seizure. The MRI that showed his first relapse. The first signs of loss of his left side. The start of the final infection. Every year, the first week of October, something awful happened. Yeah, awful things happened other times, too, but there was always something really bad the first week in October.
Since he's been gone, there have been five more Octobers. A few of them have had minor disasters (like last October, the beginning of the end with Roman, I just didn't know it at the time), but nothing I couldn't recover from. No total disasters.
That's good. Sigh of relief.
I don't know how long it will be before I can consider the first week of October as just another week.
Monday, October 09, 2006
920 Too Many Words
Monday, October 9, 2006
My back was giving me trouble again today, causing some intense stomach cramps, so I didn't do much of anything except read and nap. I've got to stop falling asleep on my stomach at night. If I fall asleep reading in bed, it bends my back the wrong way.
I read a lot of blogs (I use Bloglines.com, so it's easy), and one thing that impresses me is how some people can say so much in so few words. Paint entire pictures in one sentence.
I can't do that. I'm too wordy. Maybe I should cut, weed, trim, before hitting "post".
That's if I want to write well. I'm not sure that's what I want, though.
I write the way I speak, and yeah, I do tend to be a bit wordy when speaking. I don't talk much, I tend to be too quiet, but when I do talk, well, Daughter often rolls her eyes.
So I thought about that a while. Why so wordy?
Because I don't like to be misunderstood.
I want people to fully understand what I'm saying.
Many times in the past I've gotten into big trouble when someone misquoted me, or attributed untrue motives to me.
When other writers paint pictures in one sentence, I bring my own beliefs and prejudices to the interpretation. The picture is generated by my mind, not really by theirs. It may or may not look anything like what they meant to convey.
Artists don't seem to mind this - that people may bring different understandings.
I guess I'm not an artist. I'd rather be boring and understood than exciting and misunderstood.
So there.
My back was giving me trouble again today, causing some intense stomach cramps, so I didn't do much of anything except read and nap. I've got to stop falling asleep on my stomach at night. If I fall asleep reading in bed, it bends my back the wrong way.
------------------------------------------
I read a lot of blogs (I use Bloglines.com, so it's easy), and one thing that impresses me is how some people can say so much in so few words. Paint entire pictures in one sentence.
I can't do that. I'm too wordy. Maybe I should cut, weed, trim, before hitting "post".
That's if I want to write well. I'm not sure that's what I want, though.
I write the way I speak, and yeah, I do tend to be a bit wordy when speaking. I don't talk much, I tend to be too quiet, but when I do talk, well, Daughter often rolls her eyes.
So I thought about that a while. Why so wordy?
Because I don't like to be misunderstood.
I want people to fully understand what I'm saying.
Many times in the past I've gotten into big trouble when someone misquoted me, or attributed untrue motives to me.
When other writers paint pictures in one sentence, I bring my own beliefs and prejudices to the interpretation. The picture is generated by my mind, not really by theirs. It may or may not look anything like what they meant to convey.
Artists don't seem to mind this - that people may bring different understandings.
I guess I'm not an artist. I'd rather be boring and understood than exciting and misunderstood.
So there.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
919 Touring Houses
Sunday, October 8, 2006
Today I toured these buildings:
I discovered that the Coykendall Coach House is the home of the Coach House Players, the local amateur theater group. In 1970, I joined the group, worked on scenery for a play, and then Ex#1 informed me we were moving to St. Louis. I never even got to see that play. I've been thinking about rejoining, so today I did! I mentioned that I wanted to paint scenery, hammer nails, sew costumes, and learn lighting. The guy I talked to was very happy to hear that. Most people who join want to be on stage. I don't.
The one I wanted to see most was the Cordts Mansion. It's a lot bigger than it looks in the photo - it extends quite a bit back from the front. Back in about 1994 or 1995, two young men had purchased it, planning to open a B&B. It was in very bad shape then - peeling wallpaper and paint, dangerous staircase, so on. But they were enthusiastic about its potential, and had made a good start on the ground floor. It had been included on a Victorian house tour Jay and I went on then.
So I was looking forward to see what had been done with it.
I don't know what the young men accomplished. I heard that it had in fact been a B&B for a short time. There are several parlors, and something like ten large bedrooms. The current owner had purchased it in 2001, and has done a lot of interior decorating.
The owner is apparently fabulously wealthy, owns plantations and homes all over, spends only a few weeks a year in this house. He has furnished the house with antiques, mostly Renaissance Revival, a lot of heavy baroque, some Chinese. Many huge pieces. There was even a full-sized copy of David (with fig leaf). Most of it is pretty fantastic, but the overall effect is overwhelmingly excessive. It wasn't one or two spectacular pieces in a room with more subdued supporting pieces - everything was spectacular. Just too much too much. Several of the bedrooms have a color scheme, but a bit overdone. The rose bedroom, for example, is too much pink. Everywhere, everything. The only thing in the room that wasn't some shade of rose was a beige lamp, which stuck out like a sore thumb. The blue bedroom was downright depressing.
A lesson in decorating.
The Griffiths Thompson House was the most beautiful inside. Again it was full of antiques, but more livable pieces, lighter, warmer, cosier.
In most of the houses, the owners were not there. Instead, there were Heritage docents. Two of the houses did have owners present, and I had to giggle. You know Mrs. Bucket of Keeping Up Appearances? Heh heh. Never heard so much syncophantic name-dropping and boot-licking in my life. I think some people went home dreaming of being invited to tea at the manor house.
Today I toured these buildings:
I discovered that the Coykendall Coach House is the home of the Coach House Players, the local amateur theater group. In 1970, I joined the group, worked on scenery for a play, and then Ex#1 informed me we were moving to St. Louis. I never even got to see that play. I've been thinking about rejoining, so today I did! I mentioned that I wanted to paint scenery, hammer nails, sew costumes, and learn lighting. The guy I talked to was very happy to hear that. Most people who join want to be on stage. I don't.
The one I wanted to see most was the Cordts Mansion. It's a lot bigger than it looks in the photo - it extends quite a bit back from the front. Back in about 1994 or 1995, two young men had purchased it, planning to open a B&B. It was in very bad shape then - peeling wallpaper and paint, dangerous staircase, so on. But they were enthusiastic about its potential, and had made a good start on the ground floor. It had been included on a Victorian house tour Jay and I went on then.
So I was looking forward to see what had been done with it.
I don't know what the young men accomplished. I heard that it had in fact been a B&B for a short time. There are several parlors, and something like ten large bedrooms. The current owner had purchased it in 2001, and has done a lot of interior decorating.
The owner is apparently fabulously wealthy, owns plantations and homes all over, spends only a few weeks a year in this house. He has furnished the house with antiques, mostly Renaissance Revival, a lot of heavy baroque, some Chinese. Many huge pieces. There was even a full-sized copy of David (with fig leaf). Most of it is pretty fantastic, but the overall effect is overwhelmingly excessive. It wasn't one or two spectacular pieces in a room with more subdued supporting pieces - everything was spectacular. Just too much too much. Several of the bedrooms have a color scheme, but a bit overdone. The rose bedroom, for example, is too much pink. Everywhere, everything. The only thing in the room that wasn't some shade of rose was a beige lamp, which stuck out like a sore thumb. The blue bedroom was downright depressing.
A lesson in decorating.
The Griffiths Thompson House was the most beautiful inside. Again it was full of antiques, but more livable pieces, lighter, warmer, cosier.
In most of the houses, the owners were not there. Instead, there were Heritage docents. Two of the houses did have owners present, and I had to giggle. You know Mrs. Bucket of Keeping Up Appearances? Heh heh. Never heard so much syncophantic name-dropping and boot-licking in my life. I think some people went home dreaming of being invited to tea at the manor house.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
918 I Feel Blech
Saturday, October 8, 2006
I've been feeling very contented, even happy lately. Getting out and exploring new places with the Pilot Log deliveries has been unexpectedly fun. I'm feeling very positive.
However, my body is not happy. For the past few weeks I've had a lot of joint and muscle pain. It seems to have started high in my neck, moved down my back, and is now all over. My knees complain when I stand from sitting. My shoulders ache. Sometimes my arms feel too heavy to lift. My feet ache, and every once in a while there's a sudden arch cramp. I had pain in my lower back that made it hard to sleep last night and there must have been a pinched nerve in there because I had really bad abdominal cramps all evening and through the night. Moving around today seemed to help it, but there's a residual headache. And I've got that heavy feeling in the sides of my jaw and neck that sometimes means I'm fighting off a virus.
At home alone I feel like crawling into bed, pulling the covers over my head, and giving up. So tired. But when I get out, I'm fine as long as I keep moving.
Maybe it's that the weather is changing. I hate cold. I hate being cold. I hate drafts.
Maybe it's that the house is closed up tight, and the furnace is slowly poisoning me.
Maybe I am in fact fighting off some horrible virus.
Maybe this is my old fibromyalgia, and this is how I used to feel all the time, and I just felt better the past year because of the Roman-generated hormonal surges, and I had forgotten how I used to feel, and now it's back. Unfortunately, this is perfectly possible. I know I used to complain that I had constant pain all the time, and this past year I really did feel better.
Maybe my body is trying to tell me I need more chocolate.
I don't know, but I wish whatever it is it would go away.
Or explain itself.
I've been feeling very contented, even happy lately. Getting out and exploring new places with the Pilot Log deliveries has been unexpectedly fun. I'm feeling very positive.
However, my body is not happy. For the past few weeks I've had a lot of joint and muscle pain. It seems to have started high in my neck, moved down my back, and is now all over. My knees complain when I stand from sitting. My shoulders ache. Sometimes my arms feel too heavy to lift. My feet ache, and every once in a while there's a sudden arch cramp. I had pain in my lower back that made it hard to sleep last night and there must have been a pinched nerve in there because I had really bad abdominal cramps all evening and through the night. Moving around today seemed to help it, but there's a residual headache. And I've got that heavy feeling in the sides of my jaw and neck that sometimes means I'm fighting off a virus.
At home alone I feel like crawling into bed, pulling the covers over my head, and giving up. So tired. But when I get out, I'm fine as long as I keep moving.
Maybe it's that the weather is changing. I hate cold. I hate being cold. I hate drafts.
Maybe it's that the house is closed up tight, and the furnace is slowly poisoning me.
Maybe I am in fact fighting off some horrible virus.
Maybe this is my old fibromyalgia, and this is how I used to feel all the time, and I just felt better the past year because of the Roman-generated hormonal surges, and I had forgotten how I used to feel, and now it's back. Unfortunately, this is perfectly possible. I know I used to complain that I had constant pain all the time, and this past year I really did feel better.
Maybe my body is trying to tell me I need more chocolate.
I don't know, but I wish whatever it is it would go away.
Or explain itself.
917 Antiques Fair
Saturday, October 8, 2006
Went to the antiques fair today. There were 181 booths, and this year there seemed to be a lot more business conducted than last year - every aisle I went up or down had someone trundling out a huge piece of furniture.
I bought a marquisite ring, sterling silver intertwining leaves, for $15, and a amethyst ring, a large pinkish cabuchon surrounded by darker purple cut stones, for $10. Neither antique, but very pretty. I also bought a 150-year-old round crochet/netting tablecloth with gathered fine linen inserts. Very unusual and very beautiful, and perfect for the big table in my living room. It had only one broken thread, in a spot where it's barely noticeable, and one spot where there are three very small brown stains. Otherwise it looked like it had never been out of the cedar chest.
There was a lot of Triffari jewelry in the cases, with pretty hefty prices. (Triffari is "good" costume jewelry from about the 50s and 60s. Not exactly antique, but apparently collectible.) I have a lot of Triffari. Wow. An accidental investment.
I bought my ticket for the historic house tours tomorrow. The newspaper blurb led me to think that I could visit whatever houses I wanted on either Saturday or Sunday. There were two houses I wanted to visit on this side of the river, and three on the other side. But it turns out that today was the six or eight houses open on this side, and tomorrow is the houses on the other side. Ouch. I guess I'll have to wait until next year to get to the houses on this side. Worse, the tickets were $50 a day! So it would have cost $100 and two days to visit all the houses. I had thought that for my $50 I could pick and choose.
Gotta remember to set the alarm tonight ...
Went to the antiques fair today. There were 181 booths, and this year there seemed to be a lot more business conducted than last year - every aisle I went up or down had someone trundling out a huge piece of furniture.
I bought a marquisite ring, sterling silver intertwining leaves, for $15, and a amethyst ring, a large pinkish cabuchon surrounded by darker purple cut stones, for $10. Neither antique, but very pretty. I also bought a 150-year-old round crochet/netting tablecloth with gathered fine linen inserts. Very unusual and very beautiful, and perfect for the big table in my living room. It had only one broken thread, in a spot where it's barely noticeable, and one spot where there are three very small brown stains. Otherwise it looked like it had never been out of the cedar chest.
There was a lot of Triffari jewelry in the cases, with pretty hefty prices. (Triffari is "good" costume jewelry from about the 50s and 60s. Not exactly antique, but apparently collectible.) I have a lot of Triffari. Wow. An accidental investment.
I bought my ticket for the historic house tours tomorrow. The newspaper blurb led me to think that I could visit whatever houses I wanted on either Saturday or Sunday. There were two houses I wanted to visit on this side of the river, and three on the other side. But it turns out that today was the six or eight houses open on this side, and tomorrow is the houses on the other side. Ouch. I guess I'll have to wait until next year to get to the houses on this side. Worse, the tickets were $50 a day! So it would have cost $100 and two days to visit all the houses. I had thought that for my $50 I could pick and choose.
Gotta remember to set the alarm tonight ...
Friday, October 06, 2006
916 Mansion Museums
Friday, October 6, 2006
I delivered the last of the Pilot Logs and a batch of rack cards to the Mills, Wilderstein, Vanderbilt, and Roosevelt Mansions, the Norrie Point Marina, and the Rhinebeck and Staatsburg libraries today. I enjoyed seeing the mansions again, and it was even easier than I expected to get them to take the brochures because I asked them if they had some of their own brochures that I could take back to the Maritime Museum, and they all leapt at the opportunity to trade.
Wilderstein has had a lot of exterior work. It's looking really good. I also noticed that they now have marked trails, too. I'll have to go back someday and check that out.
This weekend there's an antiques fair at the Rhinebeck Fairgrounds, and a tour of historic private homes in Rhinebeck, Rhinecliff, and the Kingston Rondout. Tickets are limited for the house tours. I didn't reserve by phone ahead of time, so tomorrow morning I'm going to try to get house tour tickets for Sunday, when they go on sale in Rhinebeck, then go to the Antiques Fair. I prefer to hit the fair the first day, before all the best stuff disappears.
I've been searching for side tables for the living room for years. The upholstered furniture is mostly Renaissance Revival (and a 1860's carved cameo sofa). I've been haunting antiques auctions looking for Ren Rev marble-topped tables, but every one I've seen has gone for about three times what I was willing to pay, even when they were in terrible condition.
On my travels yesterday, I saw an Indonesian import store and decided to stop in. They had my tables! They're not antique, but they are exactly what I want. Dark heavy wood, carved beautifully, 4-post-pedestal with a finial in the bottom center, round white marble top. Sturdy and stable. Both tables for about 1/3 of what I'd pay for one antique marble-topped table - assuming I could even find one. I bought them.
Oh, and I forgot - remember the guy who stood me up on Monday? I got an email from him on Wednesday, and he did apologize and had a good excuse. We'll try again next Monday.
I delivered the last of the Pilot Logs and a batch of rack cards to the Mills, Wilderstein, Vanderbilt, and Roosevelt Mansions, the Norrie Point Marina, and the Rhinebeck and Staatsburg libraries today. I enjoyed seeing the mansions again, and it was even easier than I expected to get them to take the brochures because I asked them if they had some of their own brochures that I could take back to the Maritime Museum, and they all leapt at the opportunity to trade.
Wilderstein has had a lot of exterior work. It's looking really good. I also noticed that they now have marked trails, too. I'll have to go back someday and check that out.
This weekend there's an antiques fair at the Rhinebeck Fairgrounds, and a tour of historic private homes in Rhinebeck, Rhinecliff, and the Kingston Rondout. Tickets are limited for the house tours. I didn't reserve by phone ahead of time, so tomorrow morning I'm going to try to get house tour tickets for Sunday, when they go on sale in Rhinebeck, then go to the Antiques Fair. I prefer to hit the fair the first day, before all the best stuff disappears.
I've been searching for side tables for the living room for years. The upholstered furniture is mostly Renaissance Revival (and a 1860's carved cameo sofa). I've been haunting antiques auctions looking for Ren Rev marble-topped tables, but every one I've seen has gone for about three times what I was willing to pay, even when they were in terrible condition.
On my travels yesterday, I saw an Indonesian import store and decided to stop in. They had my tables! They're not antique, but they are exactly what I want. Dark heavy wood, carved beautifully, 4-post-pedestal with a finial in the bottom center, round white marble top. Sturdy and stable. Both tables for about 1/3 of what I'd pay for one antique marble-topped table - assuming I could even find one. I bought them.
Oh, and I forgot - remember the guy who stood me up on Monday? I got an email from him on Wednesday, and he did apologize and had a good excuse. We'll try again next Monday.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
914 Nice Drives
Thursday, October 5, 2006
Today I delivered Pilot Logs to an aerospace company in Woodstock. I was looking forward to that, as I had heard a lot about this company, but didn't know where it was. Woodstock isn't a "corporate" kind of place. Sure enough, the plant was tucked back in the woods on its own road. If you didn't have the address, you'd never know it was there.
It was another beautiful day (although a bit chilly), so I decided to find Cooper Lake, a high lake in the mountains north of Woodstock, very pretty, and then I explored a bit. I got "lost" a few times when I took roads that my map said went through the mountains and met a county road further up, but when I took the roads, they turned to gravel, then dirt, then died. But it was a beautiful scenic drive anyway.
Way back in the late 60s, when I first arrived in this area (before moving away, away, away, and finally coming back in the 80s), every guy I dated took me down a dirt mountain road that was absolutely beautiful, and at the same time absolutely terrifying. On the driver's side was sheer rock. On the passenger side was a steep dropoff into a deep valley. We were high up on the side of a mountain, and there were like three other mountains on the other side of the narrow deep valley, crowding close. No guardrails. Barely wide enough for getting by oncoming cars. The road is closed from November to April.
Yesterday, driving route 9W near Bear Mountain, I was reminded of that mountain road. I never knew exactly where it was. All I could remember about it was that it was a back road out of a small hamlet or village. I mentally flipped through all the villages I could think of that might be candidates, and came up zero.
Today, driving through the mountains, I thought of that road again, and how I'd like to find it.
I eventually found a way through to route 214, that goes to Hunter and Tannersville. I headed for Tannersville, intending to take 23A, another very scenic drive, to Catskill. I thought maybe I'd stop at Kaaterskill Falls. I hadn't been to the falls in years. I had forgotten that 23A east of Tannersville is closed for bridge work.
Checking my map again, I noticed that route 16, Platt Clove Road, out of Tannersville, meets route 33 in West Saugerties, and that'll get me home. So I took it.
That is The Road! I found it, entirely by chance! Absolutely amazing! Tannersville as the village would never have occurred to me.
What's really weird is that I have a friend who lives just off route 33, so I've been up that way several times in the past few years, but never went up past her house far enough to recognize "The" road.
This sort of thing has happened several times in the past three weeks. Finding places I'd thought I'd never find again. I'm loving it.
Now, I have a request for whoever or whatever is guiding me: About forty years ago, I was potting around in the Fleischmanns area, took a road through a wide valley, and found a church. The church was a simple box with a squarish steeple on the front, and a steeply pitched roof. Unpainted varnished golden wood. What was remarkable was that it was dripping with hand-carved gingerbread everywhere. It was beautiful. A few weeks after I first found it, I took a friend to see it, and we couldn't find it. I tried several times back then, marking roads on the map and systematically checking them off, but I was never able to find it again.
I feel encouraged to go look for it now. Like if I just head up there and wander, it will reveal itself.
Today I delivered Pilot Logs to an aerospace company in Woodstock. I was looking forward to that, as I had heard a lot about this company, but didn't know where it was. Woodstock isn't a "corporate" kind of place. Sure enough, the plant was tucked back in the woods on its own road. If you didn't have the address, you'd never know it was there.
It was another beautiful day (although a bit chilly), so I decided to find Cooper Lake, a high lake in the mountains north of Woodstock, very pretty, and then I explored a bit. I got "lost" a few times when I took roads that my map said went through the mountains and met a county road further up, but when I took the roads, they turned to gravel, then dirt, then died. But it was a beautiful scenic drive anyway.
Way back in the late 60s, when I first arrived in this area (before moving away, away, away, and finally coming back in the 80s), every guy I dated took me down a dirt mountain road that was absolutely beautiful, and at the same time absolutely terrifying. On the driver's side was sheer rock. On the passenger side was a steep dropoff into a deep valley. We were high up on the side of a mountain, and there were like three other mountains on the other side of the narrow deep valley, crowding close. No guardrails. Barely wide enough for getting by oncoming cars. The road is closed from November to April.
Yesterday, driving route 9W near Bear Mountain, I was reminded of that mountain road. I never knew exactly where it was. All I could remember about it was that it was a back road out of a small hamlet or village. I mentally flipped through all the villages I could think of that might be candidates, and came up zero.
Today, driving through the mountains, I thought of that road again, and how I'd like to find it.
I eventually found a way through to route 214, that goes to Hunter and Tannersville. I headed for Tannersville, intending to take 23A, another very scenic drive, to Catskill. I thought maybe I'd stop at Kaaterskill Falls. I hadn't been to the falls in years. I had forgotten that 23A east of Tannersville is closed for bridge work.
Checking my map again, I noticed that route 16, Platt Clove Road, out of Tannersville, meets route 33 in West Saugerties, and that'll get me home. So I took it.
That is The Road! I found it, entirely by chance! Absolutely amazing! Tannersville as the village would never have occurred to me.
What's really weird is that I have a friend who lives just off route 33, so I've been up that way several times in the past few years, but never went up past her house far enough to recognize "The" road.
This sort of thing has happened several times in the past three weeks. Finding places I'd thought I'd never find again. I'm loving it.
Now, I have a request for whoever or whatever is guiding me: About forty years ago, I was potting around in the Fleischmanns area, took a road through a wide valley, and found a church. The church was a simple box with a squarish steeple on the front, and a steeply pitched roof. Unpainted varnished golden wood. What was remarkable was that it was dripping with hand-carved gingerbread everywhere. It was beautiful. A few weeks after I first found it, I took a friend to see it, and we couldn't find it. I tried several times back then, marking roads on the map and systematically checking them off, but I was never able to find it again.
I feel encouraged to go look for it now. Like if I just head up there and wander, it will reveal itself.
913 Peeve - Pretext
Current peeve: Every time someone on a news program mentions the HP spying scandal, I get annoyed. The investigators impersonated telephone account owners to get copies of their phone records without their knowledge or permission. They are calling this "pretexting".
Pretext is not a verb! Pretext is a noun! The verb form for "pretext" would be "pretend". The miscreants "pretended" to be the account owners, or, better, "impersonated" the owners. They "employed a pretext" to acquire the information.
It is not ok by me to "verb a noun" when there is a perfectly good verb available.
"Google" is a noun, and I have used it as a verb, "to Google some topic", but the difference is that Google is a very new word, and we are creating ways to use it. The only suitable verb to use instead of "to Google" would be a modified phrase, "to search using Google".
"Pretext" is an old word. Don't mess with my old words!
And don't give me garbage about evolving language. Idiots have evolved "problematic" to the point where it is now useless.
Fowler is spinning in his grave....
Pretext is not a verb! Pretext is a noun! The verb form for "pretext" would be "pretend". The miscreants "pretended" to be the account owners, or, better, "impersonated" the owners. They "employed a pretext" to acquire the information.
It is not ok by me to "verb a noun" when there is a perfectly good verb available.
"Google" is a noun, and I have used it as a verb, "to Google some topic", but the difference is that Google is a very new word, and we are creating ways to use it. The only suitable verb to use instead of "to Google" would be a modified phrase, "to search using Google".
"Pretext" is an old word. Don't mess with my old words!
And don't give me garbage about evolving language. Idiots have evolved "problematic" to the point where it is now useless.
Fowler is spinning in his grave....
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
912 Odd Musings
Wednesday, October 4, 2006
Today I delivered a handful of Pilot's Logs to a marina about 9 miles south of the Bear Mountain bridge. Five and a half hours, a little over 150 miles. It was a beautiful day for the drive (although it would have been much nicer to be out of the car), sunny and high 70s. Route 9W along the section just above and below Bear Mountain is very scenic. I pulled into overlooks several times on the way home, including one that overlooks West Point.
I got into an odd train of thought on the Throughway on the way south, concerning infinity. (I've never heard this argument before, so there must be something wrong with it....)
No even numbers (except 2) are prime,
all prime numbers are odd,
odd numbers can therefore be grouped as prime or not prime,
and all non-prime odd numbers are the product of odd numbers.
So all numbers greater than 2 are
Today I delivered a handful of Pilot's Logs to a marina about 9 miles south of the Bear Mountain bridge. Five and a half hours, a little over 150 miles. It was a beautiful day for the drive (although it would have been much nicer to be out of the car), sunny and high 70s. Route 9W along the section just above and below Bear Mountain is very scenic. I pulled into overlooks several times on the way home, including one that overlooks West Point.
I got into an odd train of thought on the Throughway on the way south, concerning infinity. (I've never heard this argument before, so there must be something wrong with it....)
No even numbers (except 2) are prime,
all prime numbers are odd,
odd numbers can therefore be grouped as prime or not prime,
and all non-prime odd numbers are the product of odd numbers.
So all numbers greater than 2 are
- Even, factors are even x even;
- Even, factors are even x odd;
- Odd, factors are odd x odd; or
- Odd and prime
- Therefore there are three times as many even products as there are odd non-prime products.
- Since there are as many odd numbers as even, and only 1/3 of odd numbers are non-prime products, then two thirds of all odd numbers must be prime.
- Therefore the average difference between prime numbers should be less than 4.
- But if you look at a list of the first 1,000 prime numbers, the 1000th prime number is 7919.
- That's an average difference of almost 8.
- There are 105,097,565 prime numbers between 2 and 2,147,483,647 (ref. here).
- That's an average difference of about 20.
- It's reasonable to assume that the difference increases as the numbers go up (primes get more scarce because non-prime multipliers get more common).
- Therefore, there's a huge (impossible) clump of prime numbers up there somewhere taking up the slack,
- or there's a fallacy in the argument - can you spot it?
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
911 Hotel Reservations
[Update 10/04/06 - I just tried again, and I got a non-smoking room.]
I just reserved a room for Saturday night of Rakkasah East. The Rakkasah web site says they negotiated "a very special rate of $82 per night for 1-4 people in the room". I used the AAA discount, and got a room for 1-5 people (two double beds and a couch, I guess) for $79. The only problem was that they didn't have any non-smoking rooms at that rate. I may try again tomorrow. If I can get a non-smoking room I will cancel this one.
What makes me think I might be able to get a non-smoking room tomorrow? Because of my experiences last night.
Last night I went to the hotel website, and requested a room etc. The ONLY things they had available for the AAA discount were a honeymoon package (champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, breakfast for two), for $119, or a deluxe room for somewhere over $230. So I thought well, maybe they don't consider all rooms when you want a discount. So I backed up and tried without the AAA discount. Same result, and the difference in price was small. Ok, I guess I'll take the honeymoon package, with the AAA discount. Only this time, the search results were "no rooms available on that date". They were both taken while I futzed around?
Hmmmmm.
So I tried tonight, and suddenly there are a multitude of rooms available, but all are smoking. I wonder if they had cancellations, or what?
Yes, I smoke. No, I don't want a smoking room. Why? Because I don't care to smoke indoors. And I've stayed at this hotel before, and there is NO ventilation to the outside. The hall where the smoking rooms are smells bad, and the smokers' rooms are so bad that when I get home I have to launder all the clothes I took, even if I didn't wear them.
I just reserved a room for Saturday night of Rakkasah East. The Rakkasah web site says they negotiated "a very special rate of $82 per night for 1-4 people in the room". I used the AAA discount, and got a room for 1-5 people (two double beds and a couch, I guess) for $79. The only problem was that they didn't have any non-smoking rooms at that rate. I may try again tomorrow. If I can get a non-smoking room I will cancel this one.
What makes me think I might be able to get a non-smoking room tomorrow? Because of my experiences last night.
Last night I went to the hotel website, and requested a room etc. The ONLY things they had available for the AAA discount were a honeymoon package (champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, breakfast for two), for $119, or a deluxe room for somewhere over $230. So I thought well, maybe they don't consider all rooms when you want a discount. So I backed up and tried without the AAA discount. Same result, and the difference in price was small. Ok, I guess I'll take the honeymoon package, with the AAA discount. Only this time, the search results were "no rooms available on that date". They were both taken while I futzed around?
Hmmmmm.
So I tried tonight, and suddenly there are a multitude of rooms available, but all are smoking. I wonder if they had cancellations, or what?
Yes, I smoke. No, I don't want a smoking room. Why? Because I don't care to smoke indoors. And I've stayed at this hotel before, and there is NO ventilation to the outside. The hall where the smoking rooms are smells bad, and the smokers' rooms are so bad that when I get home I have to launder all the clothes I took, even if I didn't wear them.
910 Got the Van Back
Quoting directly from the report:
"Cust. states vehicle stalls out instermittenly, check engine light comes on intermittenly.
Roadtested vehicle, confirmed vehicle stalls intermittenly, using computer diagnosis found code for no cam signal at pcm [Silk - powertrain control module - the onboard "computer" I guess] and 1/2 oxygen sensor stays at center, using wiring diagram tested wiring from cam sensor to pcm, tightened pins in pcm connector for cam sensor and oxygen sensor wiring, cleaned pcm connectors and installed diaelectric grease, removed cam sensor, installed sim card to set correct spacing between cam sensor and cam gear tone wheel, test drove six miles, no stalling, codes, or trip failures present, technician test drove vehicle home for two days and experienced stalling. [Silk- !!!!!!! Italics mine.] Tested, called star and ordered new pcm and wiring connectors (clips broken)"
So, we'll see how long the fix lasts. I think I will avoid long trips or crossing the river with it for a while yet.
"Cust. states vehicle stalls out instermittenly, check engine light comes on intermittenly.
Roadtested vehicle, confirmed vehicle stalls intermittenly, using computer diagnosis found code for no cam signal at pcm [Silk - powertrain control module - the onboard "computer" I guess] and 1/2 oxygen sensor stays at center, using wiring diagram tested wiring from cam sensor to pcm, tightened pins in pcm connector for cam sensor and oxygen sensor wiring, cleaned pcm connectors and installed diaelectric grease, removed cam sensor, installed sim card to set correct spacing between cam sensor and cam gear tone wheel, test drove six miles, no stalling, codes, or trip failures present, technician test drove vehicle home for two days and experienced stalling. [Silk- !!!!!!! Italics mine.] Tested, called star and ordered new pcm and wiring connectors (clips broken)"
So, we'll see how long the fix lasts. I think I will avoid long trips or crossing the river with it for a while yet.
909 Free AOL
Well, I decided to change my AOL account to a free account, since what I'm paying for is a dial-up number I never use (I have a separate service), and technical assistance I never call.
I hesitated at first because I didn't know what else I might lose. I use AOL for my main email accounts because it's pretty usable and has good spam controls, but I almost never surf the internet through AOL because it was so horribly slow.
Surprise. With the free AOL, the spam controls appear to be less effective - I'm getting three or four spam emails a day now, as opposed to the prior zero. That's still pretty good!
Bigger surprise - internet loading is MUCH faster now - almost as fast as Firefox and Netscape.
Biggest surprise - no new advertising. No new pop-ups. Nice and quiet. Looks the same as it always has.
Cool.
I hesitated at first because I didn't know what else I might lose. I use AOL for my main email accounts because it's pretty usable and has good spam controls, but I almost never surf the internet through AOL because it was so horribly slow.
Surprise. With the free AOL, the spam controls appear to be less effective - I'm getting three or four spam emails a day now, as opposed to the prior zero. That's still pretty good!
Bigger surprise - internet loading is MUCH faster now - almost as fast as Firefox and Netscape.
Biggest surprise - no new advertising. No new pop-ups. Nice and quiet. Looks the same as it always has.
Cool.
908 Comfort Zone
Thinking about books that kick you out of your comfort zone. The book that did it for me was Norman Mailer's The Executioner's Song (1979), about the life of Gary Gilmore.
Gilmore is the guy who wouldn't defend himself against a murder-during-robbery charge, insisted that he be executed immediately with no appeals, and, against the preferences of Utah, insisted that he be executed by firing squad.
The Wikipedia entry for him implies that he never attempted to reform after getting out of prison (a robbery conviction), but Mailer's book describes his attempts to "do it right". He wanted to have all the good things that right living brought others. However, things never seemed to work out for him.
I read the book in 1979 or 1980. I was 35 or 36 then, and I was not particularly naive, not sheltered. But the book was a revelation to me. I found it very disturbing. It shook me. Maybe I was more sheltered than I thought. I never knew that there were people who think like Gary Gilmore thought. To know that there were people out there who think like him, whose thinking is so foreign to me, frightened me more than any horror movie could have.
I guess my father being an Air Force officer, and being raised in a military family, I was raised among intelligent middle-class people. My high school classmates weren't for the most part middle class, but they were old-style central European stock mountain folk, with old-fashioned values. In college, and later working for The Company, again it was all intelligent middle-class people. Yeah, some of them weren't nice, and some were downright crazy, but at least they all knew the rules, and "how things work". We all had pretty much the same understanding.
Maybe today, with exposure to courtroom shows, Jerry Springer and his ilk, we see more of "the other side", and maybe if I were 35 and reading the book now, maybe I wouldn't be so shocked.
Gary Gilmore never understood why he couldn't succeed in "regular" life. He looked around at other people, friends, relatives, and saw that they had homes, TVs, cars, jobs they liked, all the things he wanted but couldn't have. His conclusion was that other people had luck that he didn't have. That other people gave each other "breaks", but that no one would give him a break. It angered him that he was (in his mind) treated differently.
It was very long ago, so I can't think of any specifics to him, so I'll give some made up "fer'zamples". He gets a job, and one day he doesn't feel like going in. He doesn't have a phone, so he doesn't call in either. He gets fired. In his mind, the boss didn't give him a break. Others had been working there for years, and obviously they must feel like not going in sometimes, but they don't get fired. And his not calling in isn't his fault because, hey!, he doesn't have a phone! What do people want from him?
He gets a good deal on a car. He runs out of money (having lost another job, maybe?), and so misses some payments. The car gets repossessed. He gets angry because how could anyone expect him to make the payments when he has no money? Again, they didn't give him a break. Got turned down for a loan because of rotten credit? Again, they won't give him a break.
When he looked at the success of other people, he didn't see commitment or responsibility - he saw luck and breaks. He didn't understand commitment and responsibility, the relationship between actions and consequences. He felt entitled to the same things everyone else had, and felt that "the man" was denying him those things for some reason he couldn't figure out. He felt that he was being singled out for unfair treatment.
Actually, I guess the book wouldn't have the same effect on me now. Roman teaches morning GED classes, older kids and young adults required by the county to attend, and those kids all seem to think like Gilmore. It frustrates Roman to no end, because there doesn't seem to be any way to get through to them. I listen to his frustrations, and sympathize with him, but I don't know how to fix it, either.
Gilmore is the guy who wouldn't defend himself against a murder-during-robbery charge, insisted that he be executed immediately with no appeals, and, against the preferences of Utah, insisted that he be executed by firing squad.
The Wikipedia entry for him implies that he never attempted to reform after getting out of prison (a robbery conviction), but Mailer's book describes his attempts to "do it right". He wanted to have all the good things that right living brought others. However, things never seemed to work out for him.
I read the book in 1979 or 1980. I was 35 or 36 then, and I was not particularly naive, not sheltered. But the book was a revelation to me. I found it very disturbing. It shook me. Maybe I was more sheltered than I thought. I never knew that there were people who think like Gary Gilmore thought. To know that there were people out there who think like him, whose thinking is so foreign to me, frightened me more than any horror movie could have.
I guess my father being an Air Force officer, and being raised in a military family, I was raised among intelligent middle-class people. My high school classmates weren't for the most part middle class, but they were old-style central European stock mountain folk, with old-fashioned values. In college, and later working for The Company, again it was all intelligent middle-class people. Yeah, some of them weren't nice, and some were downright crazy, but at least they all knew the rules, and "how things work". We all had pretty much the same understanding.
Maybe today, with exposure to courtroom shows, Jerry Springer and his ilk, we see more of "the other side", and maybe if I were 35 and reading the book now, maybe I wouldn't be so shocked.
Gary Gilmore never understood why he couldn't succeed in "regular" life. He looked around at other people, friends, relatives, and saw that they had homes, TVs, cars, jobs they liked, all the things he wanted but couldn't have. His conclusion was that other people had luck that he didn't have. That other people gave each other "breaks", but that no one would give him a break. It angered him that he was (in his mind) treated differently.
It was very long ago, so I can't think of any specifics to him, so I'll give some made up "fer'zamples". He gets a job, and one day he doesn't feel like going in. He doesn't have a phone, so he doesn't call in either. He gets fired. In his mind, the boss didn't give him a break. Others had been working there for years, and obviously they must feel like not going in sometimes, but they don't get fired. And his not calling in isn't his fault because, hey!, he doesn't have a phone! What do people want from him?
He gets a good deal on a car. He runs out of money (having lost another job, maybe?), and so misses some payments. The car gets repossessed. He gets angry because how could anyone expect him to make the payments when he has no money? Again, they didn't give him a break. Got turned down for a loan because of rotten credit? Again, they won't give him a break.
When he looked at the success of other people, he didn't see commitment or responsibility - he saw luck and breaks. He didn't understand commitment and responsibility, the relationship between actions and consequences. He felt entitled to the same things everyone else had, and felt that "the man" was denying him those things for some reason he couldn't figure out. He felt that he was being singled out for unfair treatment.
Actually, I guess the book wouldn't have the same effect on me now. Roman teaches morning GED classes, older kids and young adults required by the county to attend, and those kids all seem to think like Gilmore. It frustrates Roman to no end, because there doesn't seem to be any way to get through to them. I listen to his frustrations, and sympathize with him, but I don't know how to fix it, either.
907 Feeding Cats
I've had cats all my life: Snowball, Smokey, Suzie, Peggy, Tigger, Obsidian (Siddy Kitty), Scruffy, and the current Miss Thunderfoot (Thunder). That doesn't look like 50 years worth, but most of my non-leukemia kitties lived 18 to 22 years.
Several people lately in bloggerland and real life have been having tooth problems with their cats. This seems to be the season for it.
One thing I've painfully learned is that their diet, kidneys, heart, and teeth/gums are closely related, in a delicate circle. A problem in one area will cascade to everything else. Tartar on the teeth can cause gum problems which can cause heart or kidney failure. Kidney problems can cause bleeding receding gums which will lead to more infection, which can cause heart failure or exacerbate the kidney problems. Heart problems can cause kidney problems, which cause gum problems, which ... and on and on, 'round and 'round.
Dry cat food helps to keep their teeth clean, but the less expensive dry foods are high in ash (whatever THAT is) and other things that can lead to kidney failure, which ... etc. The more expensive dry foods are better, but I haven't had a cat yet who would eat them. If you are going to feed mostly canned food, to avoid the ash, vets say you should brush the cat's teeth. Yeah, sure. Cats aren't as eager to please as dogs. They'll love you, but they won't compromise their own integrity. If you insist on brushing a cat's teeth, she'll start plotting to kill you in your sleep. And cats won't happily chew on bones or nylon chew toys to clean their teeth, like dogs will.
The healthiest way to feed a house cat, I conclude, is to throw them a live mouse or wounded bird a few times a day. Gives them a perfectly balanced diet (they get the partially digested vegetable matter they need from the prey's intestines), bones to keep their teeth clean, and some exercise.
Ick.
I have a friend who dearly loves her multiple cats, and when one dies, which they do with distressing frequency, usually of heart disease, occasionally of kidney or thyroid disease, she and her husband both are cast into months-long depressions. I was visiting one day when she fed the cats. She opened those little cans, the ones with the pull tops, Fancy Feast?, and then just set the cans on the floor. I was shocked. I dump the food out onto a flat dish, and Miss Thunderfoot additionally insists that I break it up for her, and shape it into a pointed mound (reshaping is required as she eats it down).
My friend's cats licked like mad to get the food out of those tiny cans, and licked all around the (sharp!) edges to get the last bits. I couldn't believe it. This woman is a Mensan. Has it not occurred to her that her cats probably cut their tongues regularly? I have several times cut my fingers on those cans washing them for recycling. I didn't say anything, I know that she would not have reacted well, but I felt so sorry for those cats. My only consolation is that her cats are rescues, so it's still better than what might have been.
Miss Thunderfoot gets a Mommy-recipe dry mix of weight, age, and hairball formulations, and once a day she gets a small can of moist (formed into a pointed mound) of which she eats about half . About twice a day she demands (by sitting in front of the refrigerator and calling) an ounce of skim or 2% milk (she refuses 4%). Not only is she unusual in that she tolerates milk, but it seems to help her move hair through, so that she passes it rather than throwing up hairballs. I think she's about 11 now. At her last annual checkup in July, the vet said she does have some deposits on her teeth, but not much, and no more than she's had the past several years.
Either she and I have very good luck (since I know what I should do, but don't do it), or she's secretly catching and munching mice.
Ick.
Several people lately in bloggerland and real life have been having tooth problems with their cats. This seems to be the season for it.
One thing I've painfully learned is that their diet, kidneys, heart, and teeth/gums are closely related, in a delicate circle. A problem in one area will cascade to everything else. Tartar on the teeth can cause gum problems which can cause heart or kidney failure. Kidney problems can cause bleeding receding gums which will lead to more infection, which can cause heart failure or exacerbate the kidney problems. Heart problems can cause kidney problems, which cause gum problems, which ... and on and on, 'round and 'round.
Dry cat food helps to keep their teeth clean, but the less expensive dry foods are high in ash (whatever THAT is) and other things that can lead to kidney failure, which ... etc. The more expensive dry foods are better, but I haven't had a cat yet who would eat them. If you are going to feed mostly canned food, to avoid the ash, vets say you should brush the cat's teeth. Yeah, sure. Cats aren't as eager to please as dogs. They'll love you, but they won't compromise their own integrity. If you insist on brushing a cat's teeth, she'll start plotting to kill you in your sleep. And cats won't happily chew on bones or nylon chew toys to clean their teeth, like dogs will.
The healthiest way to feed a house cat, I conclude, is to throw them a live mouse or wounded bird a few times a day. Gives them a perfectly balanced diet (they get the partially digested vegetable matter they need from the prey's intestines), bones to keep their teeth clean, and some exercise.
Ick.
I have a friend who dearly loves her multiple cats, and when one dies, which they do with distressing frequency, usually of heart disease, occasionally of kidney or thyroid disease, she and her husband both are cast into months-long depressions. I was visiting one day when she fed the cats. She opened those little cans, the ones with the pull tops, Fancy Feast?, and then just set the cans on the floor. I was shocked. I dump the food out onto a flat dish, and Miss Thunderfoot additionally insists that I break it up for her, and shape it into a pointed mound (reshaping is required as she eats it down).
My friend's cats licked like mad to get the food out of those tiny cans, and licked all around the (sharp!) edges to get the last bits. I couldn't believe it. This woman is a Mensan. Has it not occurred to her that her cats probably cut their tongues regularly? I have several times cut my fingers on those cans washing them for recycling. I didn't say anything, I know that she would not have reacted well, but I felt so sorry for those cats. My only consolation is that her cats are rescues, so it's still better than what might have been.
Miss Thunderfoot gets a Mommy-recipe dry mix of weight, age, and hairball formulations, and once a day she gets a small can of moist (formed into a pointed mound) of which she eats about half . About twice a day she demands (by sitting in front of the refrigerator and calling) an ounce of skim or 2% milk (she refuses 4%). Not only is she unusual in that she tolerates milk, but it seems to help her move hair through, so that she passes it rather than throwing up hairballs. I think she's about 11 now. At her last annual checkup in July, the vet said she does have some deposits on her teeth, but not much, and no more than she's had the past several years.
Either she and I have very good luck (since I know what I should do, but don't do it), or she's secretly catching and munching mice.
Ick.
Monday, October 02, 2006
906 Stood Up!
Monday, October 2, 2006
I was supposed to meet a guy from an oline dating service today, at 4 pm, on the patio of a restaurant in Rhinebeck. I went, got there about 3:55, and waited (reading my book) until 4:20. No show.
This may be the first time in my entire life that I've been stood up (except times when Roman said he'd call me and then didn't, which FELT like being stood up). Actually, with the online dating stuff, I'm surprised it hasn't happened before, since you never know what's really on the other end of those emails. So far everyone has been pretty ok (except for the usual weight, age, and health deceptions).
So at 4:20 I decided to leave. I thought I might stop by Piper's office on my way home, since I hadn't seen him in over a week, so I called him to make sure he'd be there. When I told him where I was (one of his favorite restaurants), and laughed that I'd been stood up, he said "Stay there! I'll be there in 10 minutes!", and he was.
So we went in and had some soup and an hour's good conversation. It was probably more fun than if Mystery Man had shown up.
(And no, there wasn't a single person there who even remotely could have been the culprit, and there were no teenagers giggling about the lady who fell for their fake profile and showed up to be humiliated (which I wasn't anyway), and there was no email or phone message when I got home (and I won't email him to ask, if there was an honest error, he'll have to contact me) - so 'tis a mystery. I do have a phone number he sent me, but I never call these guys or give them my phone number until AFTER I've met them, because with my phone number (even if cell or unlisted) they can get my full name and home address (yeah, I'm sure, 'cause I've done it myself), and, for a few dollars, even more details. One must be careful....)
--------------------------
Just saw some photos of Anna Nichol taken in the hospital just after the birth of her baby. She's actually very pretty without makeup, and with her hair pulled back (instead of those tortured hairstyles she usually has).
Which reminds me - Piper says I should cut my hair to mid-neck length. I told him to go to hell.
I was supposed to meet a guy from an oline dating service today, at 4 pm, on the patio of a restaurant in Rhinebeck. I went, got there about 3:55, and waited (reading my book) until 4:20. No show.
This may be the first time in my entire life that I've been stood up (except times when Roman said he'd call me and then didn't, which FELT like being stood up). Actually, with the online dating stuff, I'm surprised it hasn't happened before, since you never know what's really on the other end of those emails. So far everyone has been pretty ok (except for the usual weight, age, and health deceptions).
So at 4:20 I decided to leave. I thought I might stop by Piper's office on my way home, since I hadn't seen him in over a week, so I called him to make sure he'd be there. When I told him where I was (one of his favorite restaurants), and laughed that I'd been stood up, he said "Stay there! I'll be there in 10 minutes!", and he was.
So we went in and had some soup and an hour's good conversation. It was probably more fun than if Mystery Man had shown up.
(And no, there wasn't a single person there who even remotely could have been the culprit, and there were no teenagers giggling about the lady who fell for their fake profile and showed up to be humiliated (which I wasn't anyway), and there was no email or phone message when I got home (and I won't email him to ask, if there was an honest error, he'll have to contact me) - so 'tis a mystery. I do have a phone number he sent me, but I never call these guys or give them my phone number until AFTER I've met them, because with my phone number (even if cell or unlisted) they can get my full name and home address (yeah, I'm sure, 'cause I've done it myself), and, for a few dollars, even more details. One must be careful....)
--------------------------
Just saw some photos of Anna Nichol taken in the hospital just after the birth of her baby. She's actually very pretty without makeup, and with her hair pulled back (instead of those tortured hairstyles she usually has).
Which reminds me - Piper says I should cut my hair to mid-neck length. I told him to go to hell.
905 Messy
Monday, October 2, 2006
Roba, of "And Far Away", in this post shows a photo of a relatively neat bookcase, complaining of the mess and that she can't find anything. She has decided to start a contest for the messiest living space. Man, that girl don't KNOW from messy!!!
Here's my entry:
This is my den/computer room. In my defense, you can't reorganize and store unless you first pull everything out so you can see and sort it. Right now pretty much my entire house looks like this. Under that pile in the background there's a beautiful little Victorian settee. Someday I'll find it again.
Roba, of "And Far Away", in this post shows a photo of a relatively neat bookcase, complaining of the mess and that she can't find anything. She has decided to start a contest for the messiest living space. Man, that girl don't KNOW from messy!!!
Here's my entry:
This is my den/computer room. In my defense, you can't reorganize and store unless you first pull everything out so you can see and sort it. Right now pretty much my entire house looks like this. Under that pile in the background there's a beautiful little Victorian settee. Someday I'll find it again.
904 Deadly Beauty
I'm reading Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye, and came across a comment that physical beauty is probably one of "the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought."
That stopped me cold.
I think it may be true. And not just for beauty of the body, but beauty in general - of scenery, possessions, ideas.
Appearance of beauty. Possession of beauty. Search for beauty. It sounds virtuous, but I think perhaps it's not.
It may be an evil trap.
That stopped me cold.
I think it may be true. And not just for beauty of the body, but beauty in general - of scenery, possessions, ideas.
Appearance of beauty. Possession of beauty. Search for beauty. It sounds virtuous, but I think perhaps it's not.
It may be an evil trap.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
903 Rainy Days and Sundays
Sunday, October 1, 2006
Rainy yesterday, rainy today. About mid-60s out there. One of the big craft fairs was in Rhinebeck this weekend (we ain't talking pipe cleaners here, folks), there was an antiques auction last night, and I was supposed to deliver some more Pilot Logs to the mansion museums this weekend. But rain puts me to sleep. I didn't do anything except write a bunch of emails, read a bunch of blogs, and do a little online flirting.
I ran a few errands this evening, and met Daughter in the village for a quick nibble. She was on her way home after a weekend visit to an old friend upstate.
I've boosted the heat up to 75 in the house, and I'm still cold. I guess I'm going to have to give up and put shoes on. The weather man said "extra blanket" weather coming, so I guess I get to put the down featherbed and comforter back on the bed - the only good thing about winter as far as I'm concerned. They are unbelievably thick and fluffy, and it's like snuggling deep into a warm cloud. (If you don't know what a featherbed is, it's a comforter-like down mattress topper. It goes under the bottom sheet and you sorta sink into it.)
Autumn is coming fast this year. Leaf peak is usually mid-October. We don't have a lot of color this year, but the leaves are already falling pretty heavily. I wonder if there will be any leaves left on the trees by mid-October.
What's with the "turn of the month" and the guys on the dating sites? All of a sudden I'm getting all kinds of nibbles again. It happens near the end of every month. Payday? Does the end of the month remind them time is passing? There's a 49-year-old attorney 50 miles away, a 58-year-old moustache 15 miles away, a 53-year-old "Sagatarius" [sic] 23 miles away, a 46-year-old 15 miles away who is interested in "a meaningful overnight relationship", a 48-year-old plumber 26 miles away. And several others more divergent in age or farther away.
I'm meeting the moustache tomorrow.
Rainy yesterday, rainy today. About mid-60s out there. One of the big craft fairs was in Rhinebeck this weekend (we ain't talking pipe cleaners here, folks), there was an antiques auction last night, and I was supposed to deliver some more Pilot Logs to the mansion museums this weekend. But rain puts me to sleep. I didn't do anything except write a bunch of emails, read a bunch of blogs, and do a little online flirting.
I ran a few errands this evening, and met Daughter in the village for a quick nibble. She was on her way home after a weekend visit to an old friend upstate.
I've boosted the heat up to 75 in the house, and I'm still cold. I guess I'm going to have to give up and put shoes on. The weather man said "extra blanket" weather coming, so I guess I get to put the down featherbed and comforter back on the bed - the only good thing about winter as far as I'm concerned. They are unbelievably thick and fluffy, and it's like snuggling deep into a warm cloud. (If you don't know what a featherbed is, it's a comforter-like down mattress topper. It goes under the bottom sheet and you sorta sink into it.)
Autumn is coming fast this year. Leaf peak is usually mid-October. We don't have a lot of color this year, but the leaves are already falling pretty heavily. I wonder if there will be any leaves left on the trees by mid-October.
What's with the "turn of the month" and the guys on the dating sites? All of a sudden I'm getting all kinds of nibbles again. It happens near the end of every month. Payday? Does the end of the month remind them time is passing? There's a 49-year-old attorney 50 miles away, a 58-year-old moustache 15 miles away, a 53-year-old "Sagatarius" [sic] 23 miles away, a 46-year-old 15 miles away who is interested in "a meaningful overnight relationship", a 48-year-old plumber 26 miles away. And several others more divergent in age or farther away.
I'm meeting the moustache tomorrow.
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