Tuesday, March 27, 2007
[Later edit - I Googled "'Green pepper' mango", and found out it's a coal miner, northeastern Pennsylvania thing. I come by it honestly. See http://www.foodreference.com/html/fmango.html, scroll down to the green comment.]
I'm home.
The ceremony and reception were beautiful. There were probably close to 200 people. They had a full-fledged wedding, their children and grandchildren were the attendants. Flowers everywhere. Their colors were peach, cream, and brown.
The reception was at a fire hall, which was also sumptuously decorated, candles and flowers, chocolate, peach, and cream candies in bowls on the tables, and the absolutely most beautiful wedding cake I've ever seen. Photos when The Rabbi sends them.
They did all the work themselves, which I found amazing. Mrs. Rabbi (note - he's not a rabbi, he's a Methodist minister. "The Rabbi" was his nickname in college, because of one incident, but it stuck because he taught us a lot about how we should "be") even cooked all the food!
It was obvious that they are well loved. They've had some legal and financial problems over the past two years, one of those dramas that people can get caught up in through no fault of their own, the kind of thing where "friends" fall away rapidly. It's a tribute to them that they still have so many who love and support them.
I had one of those "small world" moments. There's a couple, E and B, whom I see often at Daughter and Hercules's, in central New Jersey. E is Hercules's best friend. They were roommates in college. I walked into the fire hall, and directly in front of me, at the end of the nearest table, the first people I saw, were E and B. I walked up to them, and we all three said, in unison, "What the hell are YOU doing here?!" Turns out B works with Mrs. Rabbi. Of course, E had to immediately call Daughter and tell her. Small world.
With so many people there, I'd had no time to talk to The Rabbis, other than in the receiving line, and his tour from table to table. When people started leaving, I asked the daughter if they could use another pair of hands cleaning up, and she said that would be nice, so I stayed and filled garbage cans. There had been little nylon bags filled with wildflower seeds at each place (Love Grows), and a lot of people didn't take them, so I ended up with 45 of them. I'll plant them in my woods and on the bank, and send a picture when they bloom.
Cleaning up took like two hours, and gave me a chance to spend some time with the couple.
Something very odd happened that's still bothering me. I'll probably approach it later.
The next morning I left the hotel at 10:30 am and headed for home. The sky was very cloudy, 53 degrees. The weather report said rain in the late afternoon and evening. I wanted to take a detour and visit Ricketts Glen if I could, but not in rain. I wouldn't be able to visit much more than the first falls, but that's where Jay's ashes are, so that's all I needed. I decided to make the decision when I got to Bloomsburg.
At Bloomsburg, it was still 53 degrees and cloudy, so I struck off northeast, headed for the falls. When I got to Benton, I stopped for lunch at the Cozy Corner. The Cozy Corner was an ice cream parlor 50 years ago. I used to get ice cream or a hot dog there when I was in fourth grade.
I had another small world experience in the Cozy Corner. The waitress was telling some tourists what was on the garden cheese steak, and she said, "... and mangos." The tourista was surprised, "Mangos? The fruit?" The waitress got flustered, and struggled to remember the other name, "Oh, yeah, peppers. Sweet green peppers. We call them mangos."
My mother always called them mangos. I didn't know any other name for them until I went to college, and I still think of them as mangos. I'd never before met anyone else who called them mangos, not that I was aware of, anyway.
I've driven through Benton a few times in the past two decades, but hadn't walked the streets in more than 40 years. I decided to walk the few blocks of the main street, and try to find the house we'd once lived in.
Over the years, and three of my father's transfers to the area, we had lived in five different houses in the village. I had on prior trips located four of the houses, but not the fifth, and that one was the best. It was the largest and nicest house we'd ever lived in, with a wrap-around porch, an impressive circular staircase, and a glass "conservatory" on the side. It was on a northeast corner on Main street. There was a long sidewalk, with umbrella trees (mulberries trimmed back to the trunk every fall) on either side.
As I walked, I studied every corner house. I know that in 50 years there would be changes, but none of the houses looked at all possible. It's not like it had been torn down and replaced, none of the houses was less than 80 years old. The sidewalks were all very short, too short for the umbrella trees, but then I realized the street must have been widened at some point. Only one house had a conservatory, but the rest of the house didn't feel at all right.
That's sad. That's the house where we had the roosters. Aunt Irene had given us chicks for Easter one year. A year later, my mother was walking around muttering "They're supposed to die! They aren't supposed to grow up!" They slept in a shack out back, and otherwise had the run of town. They used to follow us everywhere.
I passed "the doctor's house", the only brick building in town, and remembered Lady. Lady was the doctor's fat old white English Bulldog. She sat on the doorstep all day, and when someone stopped at the end of the walk, she'd waddle slowly down the walk, then, schnuffling and schnorting, she would close her eyes and present her head for scratching.
Lady was the old-style bulldog, with a huge chest that bowed her front legs out and almost useless tiny hindquarters. Today's bulldogs have real hind legs. All my life I've had a fondness for toads. I've paid kids to catch toads for me, so I can install them in my garden. Yesterday, for the first time, I realized that I like toads because they remind me of Lady.
I headed on up the road to Ricketts Glen. Now, I'd seen no snow anywhere. As I approached the Glen, I noticed snow in sheltered spots. When I got to the Glen, I had to climb over a 3-foot snowbank to read the "NOTICE!" The falls trail was "closed to all except experienced ice climbers", who had to register at the park office. Minimum equipment required included crampons and rope, and "ice axes are highly recommended."
Hmmm. I should have known. I've seen the trail sheathed in ice from the mist from the falls, forty years ago, before there was even a real trail. It's impressive, and scary. And very beautiful if you can get to it. The ice probably won't be gone until early May, if then.
I walked to the beginning of the falls trail anyway. The path was packed snow that had thawed and refrozen to the point of ice. Very slippery. The bridge over the creek was festooned with yellow "do not enter" tape, as were several points up the falls trail. So I stopped, looked up the creek, and shouted "I love you, sweetheart. I'll be back later", and left.
I got home about 6 pm.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
1183 Nobody's Listening 2
Saturday, March 24, 2007
This morning, when I left the house to drive to Pennsylvania, I walked out the door saying, "Anniversary card, gift wrap, stockings". I had picked out a long dress to wear tomorrow evening, but was out of knee-high sheer stockings. (I insist on washing them in the washing machine, so they don't last long. Hey, I put them in a net bag with my trouser socks! Wadda ya want from me!)
I drove down the road repeating "Card, wrap, stockings." I parked at the pharmacy saying, "Card, wrap, stockings". I walked into the drug store and said, "Card, wrap, -------?" A woman walking by noticed the stunned look on my face, and I said "I KNEW I shoulda wrote it down!" I walked up and down every aisle hoping something would jog my memory, but nada. I did get the card and wrap, and ribbon, and was smart enough to have packed tape and scissors. I somehow had the idea that what I was missing started with a "C", and almost walked out of there with cough medicine before I remembered I don't have a cold. I even studied the disposable cameras. I don't know why I associated "C" with stockings.
I got 150 miles down the road when out of the blue, I shouted, "Stockings!" Yeah, Roman, sometimes I talk to myself and no one's listening.
So the first order of business tomorrow will be to find stockings.
.
This morning, when I left the house to drive to Pennsylvania, I walked out the door saying, "Anniversary card, gift wrap, stockings". I had picked out a long dress to wear tomorrow evening, but was out of knee-high sheer stockings. (I insist on washing them in the washing machine, so they don't last long. Hey, I put them in a net bag with my trouser socks! Wadda ya want from me!)
I drove down the road repeating "Card, wrap, stockings." I parked at the pharmacy saying, "Card, wrap, stockings". I walked into the drug store and said, "Card, wrap, -------?" A woman walking by noticed the stunned look on my face, and I said "I KNEW I shoulda wrote it down!" I walked up and down every aisle hoping something would jog my memory, but nada. I did get the card and wrap, and ribbon, and was smart enough to have packed tape and scissors. I somehow had the idea that what I was missing started with a "C", and almost walked out of there with cough medicine before I remembered I don't have a cold. I even studied the disposable cameras. I don't know why I associated "C" with stockings.
I got 150 miles down the road when out of the blue, I shouted, "Stockings!" Yeah, Roman, sometimes I talk to myself and no one's listening.
So the first order of business tomorrow will be to find stockings.
.
1182 Back Home in the Mountains!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
I'm sitting in a motel room (hotel? motel? the doors open to an interior hall, not to the parking lot, so technically I think it's a hotel) in central Pennsylvania, in the mountains, slightly northwest of State College (that's really the name of the town where Penn State is, honest).
The desk clerk/manager had bad teeth and no hair. The guest who recommended a restaurant had bad hair and no teeth. They both had nice eyes. I'm back in my mountains - my kinda people. Not pretentious and very friendly.
Pennsylvania is miles and miles of miles and miles. If you take route 80 through the state, you'd swear there's nothing here but mountains (friendly rounded walk-up-able ones), trees, and deer. I'd forgotten how nice Pa. feels. I'm starting to feel crowded in the Hudson Valley. Too many people.
It was 5.5 hours of driving, which was less than I thought it would be. When Daughter was in college, it took me 6 hours to get to State College. In the early days of Jay's illness, when Daughter needed something delivered or picked up, I would often drive to State College in the morning, and then back home in the evening. It's all highway, no towns, no villages, no turns, no nothing, and it really didn't feel so far.
I had dinner in a Dutch Pantry up the way (wow! I'm turning back into a Pennsylvanian! Pretty soon it'll be "up the ways a piece"!), and I was bouncing up and down in my seat over the menu. Creamed corn fritters! Stuffed cabbage! Wet-bottom Shoo-fly Pie! (I gotta buy a whole pie before I leave Monday. Wet-bottom. Dry-bottom is yuck. I'm a shoo-fly connoisseur.) Buncha other stuff I haven't seen on a menu in ages! I bet they'll have scrapple on the breakfast menu. I won't eat it, but it'll be nice to see it there. (Note - Firefox doesn't like scrapple either. Firefox is insisting I've misspelled "scrappers".)
My friend The Rabbi and his wife are renewing their vows tomorrow evening, followed by a 40th anniversary party, so I've got the morning and afternoon to futz around. I could call them and tell them I'm here, but then they might feel obligated to invite me over, and I'm sure they have all kinds of things to do tomorrow, so I'm not going to call. I will see him tomorrow evening for the first time in 43 years. We rediscovered each other two years ago thanks to the internet.
Daughter is feeling much better. I advised her to take it easy anyway. "Heck, fake it if you have to. It may be the only vacation you get this year."
As of July 2006, "I brake for Shoofly Pie" is the official bumper sticker of the state of Pennsylvania.
.
I'm sitting in a motel room (hotel? motel? the doors open to an interior hall, not to the parking lot, so technically I think it's a hotel) in central Pennsylvania, in the mountains, slightly northwest of State College (that's really the name of the town where Penn State is, honest).
The desk clerk/manager had bad teeth and no hair. The guest who recommended a restaurant had bad hair and no teeth. They both had nice eyes. I'm back in my mountains - my kinda people. Not pretentious and very friendly.
Pennsylvania is miles and miles of miles and miles. If you take route 80 through the state, you'd swear there's nothing here but mountains (friendly rounded walk-up-able ones), trees, and deer. I'd forgotten how nice Pa. feels. I'm starting to feel crowded in the Hudson Valley. Too many people.
It was 5.5 hours of driving, which was less than I thought it would be. When Daughter was in college, it took me 6 hours to get to State College. In the early days of Jay's illness, when Daughter needed something delivered or picked up, I would often drive to State College in the morning, and then back home in the evening. It's all highway, no towns, no villages, no turns, no nothing, and it really didn't feel so far.
I had dinner in a Dutch Pantry up the way (wow! I'm turning back into a Pennsylvanian! Pretty soon it'll be "up the ways a piece"!), and I was bouncing up and down in my seat over the menu. Creamed corn fritters! Stuffed cabbage! Wet-bottom Shoo-fly Pie! (I gotta buy a whole pie before I leave Monday. Wet-bottom. Dry-bottom is yuck. I'm a shoo-fly connoisseur.) Buncha other stuff I haven't seen on a menu in ages! I bet they'll have scrapple on the breakfast menu. I won't eat it, but it'll be nice to see it there. (Note - Firefox doesn't like scrapple either. Firefox is insisting I've misspelled "scrappers".)
My friend The Rabbi and his wife are renewing their vows tomorrow evening, followed by a 40th anniversary party, so I've got the morning and afternoon to futz around. I could call them and tell them I'm here, but then they might feel obligated to invite me over, and I'm sure they have all kinds of things to do tomorrow, so I'm not going to call. I will see him tomorrow evening for the first time in 43 years. We rediscovered each other two years ago thanks to the internet.
Daughter is feeling much better. I advised her to take it easy anyway. "Heck, fake it if you have to. It may be the only vacation you get this year."
As of July 2006, "I brake for Shoofly Pie" is the official bumper sticker of the state of Pennsylvania.
.
Friday, March 23, 2007
1181 Bonked a Car
Friday, March 23, 2007
Talked to Daughter and Hercules at 7pm. She's feeling a little better. She took a bath (she prefers showers, but she wasn't sure she could stand that long), and had been able to hold down water and saltines for a few hours. She said that when she called me at 2, she was very frightened by how weak she was.
Right after I got off the phone with them, I went to the deli, and backed into another woman's car. She was sitting at the edge of the road getting ready to pull out, and when I backed out of my space, I curved around and my offside rear bumper scraped along her offside rear bumper. I DID look, but somehow completely missed her. The Aerio has a very high rear end, and I guess the tail lights on her black car were below where I could see.
I now have some black paint on the side of my bumper, and she has white paint on hers. My car is otherwise fine, but the plastic cover over her tail light is broken. There are no other dents or scrapes on either car. (My first thought when I heard the crunch was "Oh %^&@! I gotta drive to Pa. tomorrow!")
Oddly enough, an off-duty town cop was sitting in his car in the lot and saw the whole thing, which actually is good, since nobody will exaggerate damage now. And the woman's husband owns a body shop in Kingston. He called this evening, and said he'd just charge for the part (assuming there's no internal damage, that is).
I don't intend to inform the insurance company.
.
Talked to Daughter and Hercules at 7pm. She's feeling a little better. She took a bath (she prefers showers, but she wasn't sure she could stand that long), and had been able to hold down water and saltines for a few hours. She said that when she called me at 2, she was very frightened by how weak she was.
Right after I got off the phone with them, I went to the deli, and backed into another woman's car. She was sitting at the edge of the road getting ready to pull out, and when I backed out of my space, I curved around and my offside rear bumper scraped along her offside rear bumper. I DID look, but somehow completely missed her. The Aerio has a very high rear end, and I guess the tail lights on her black car were below where I could see.
I now have some black paint on the side of my bumper, and she has white paint on hers. My car is otherwise fine, but the plastic cover over her tail light is broken. There are no other dents or scrapes on either car. (My first thought when I heard the crunch was "Oh %^&@! I gotta drive to Pa. tomorrow!")
Oddly enough, an off-duty town cop was sitting in his car in the lot and saw the whole thing, which actually is good, since nobody will exaggerate damage now. And the woman's husband owns a body shop in Kingston. He called this evening, and said he'd just charge for the part (assuming there's no internal damage, that is).
I don't intend to inform the insurance company.
.
1180 Daughter Is Sick
Friday, March 23, 2007
I got a call from Daughter about 2pm. She was calling from the floor in her bathroom. She thinks it might be her milk sensitivity, because she ate some butter last night. I think it's Norovirus. At any rate, she's rapidly heading for dehydration, sounded very weak, was too weak to make it to the kitchen. She's afraid to eat or drink anything anyway, because the reaction is so violent.
I told her that I'd come, but I couldn't get there inside three hours, so she should call Hercules at work and tell him to come home, NOW.
Hercules, like many men, refuses to see illness in his mate. Plus, he doesn't like his schedule disrupted. She didn't have to tell me this - I see it on my own. At any rate, she was afraid to call him, afraid that he would be annoyed and unsympathetic.
So, in my role as new mother-in-law, *I* called him and told him to get his tail home, NOW!
He did. Wasn't that sweet?
He called at 3 to say that she's still on the floor. She had pulled two rugs under her, and she got cold, so she pulled a towel down on her. I told him to watch her, make her drink something, and if she gets unresponsive or incoherent, to call 911.
"Why is she still on the floor?"
"She wants to be close to the toilet in case she needs to throw up."
"In bed with a basin, or a large bowl, might be more comfortable."
"Oh. Yeah."
Men!
He is to call me at 7 pm to report her progress. If it's Noro, she should feel a little better by then.
Norovirus is highly contagious, and I almost hope he gets it. He might have a little more sympathy.
I was supposed to go to a movie with Mensa this evening ("Some Like it Hot", believe it or not, I'd never seen it), but the organizer called to say that the Bardavon had canceled the showing. I don't know why it was canceled, but it makes me more comfortable. I'd prefer to stay home while Daughter is sick , just in case, or at least if I'm out, be somewhere that the cell phone is not disruptive.
.
I got a call from Daughter about 2pm. She was calling from the floor in her bathroom. She thinks it might be her milk sensitivity, because she ate some butter last night. I think it's Norovirus. At any rate, she's rapidly heading for dehydration, sounded very weak, was too weak to make it to the kitchen. She's afraid to eat or drink anything anyway, because the reaction is so violent.
I told her that I'd come, but I couldn't get there inside three hours, so she should call Hercules at work and tell him to come home, NOW.
Hercules, like many men, refuses to see illness in his mate. Plus, he doesn't like his schedule disrupted. She didn't have to tell me this - I see it on my own. At any rate, she was afraid to call him, afraid that he would be annoyed and unsympathetic.
So, in my role as new mother-in-law, *I* called him and told him to get his tail home, NOW!
He did. Wasn't that sweet?
He called at 3 to say that she's still on the floor. She had pulled two rugs under her, and she got cold, so she pulled a towel down on her. I told him to watch her, make her drink something, and if she gets unresponsive or incoherent, to call 911.
"Why is she still on the floor?"
"She wants to be close to the toilet in case she needs to throw up."
"In bed with a basin, or a large bowl, might be more comfortable."
"Oh. Yeah."
Men!
He is to call me at 7 pm to report her progress. If it's Noro, she should feel a little better by then.
Norovirus is highly contagious, and I almost hope he gets it. He might have a little more sympathy.
I was supposed to go to a movie with Mensa this evening ("Some Like it Hot", believe it or not, I'd never seen it), but the organizer called to say that the Bardavon had canceled the showing. I don't know why it was canceled, but it makes me more comfortable. I'd prefer to stay home while Daughter is sick , just in case, or at least if I'm out, be somewhere that the cell phone is not disruptive.
.
1179 No One's Listening
Friday, March 23, 2007
I got an email from a friend, at the end of which he asks, "Do you ever talk to yourself and find that no one's listening?"
I've been trying for three days to think of a good comeback, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it's not simply a cute quip. It's actually very deep.
I talk to myself a lot, and the voice in my head is very logical and makes a lot of sense. However, the voice is that of my parents, councilors, advisors, managers, authorities. I know I should do as they tell me, but I don't want to. What I want is not always logical or sensible. What I want is sometimes even dangerous.
I rebel.
So yeah, I talk to myself, and no one's listening.
.
I got an email from a friend, at the end of which he asks, "Do you ever talk to yourself and find that no one's listening?"
I've been trying for three days to think of a good comeback, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it's not simply a cute quip. It's actually very deep.
I talk to myself a lot, and the voice in my head is very logical and makes a lot of sense. However, the voice is that of my parents, councilors, advisors, managers, authorities. I know I should do as they tell me, but I don't want to. What I want is not always logical or sensible. What I want is sometimes even dangerous.
I rebel.
So yeah, I talk to myself, and no one's listening.
.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
1178 New Glasses
Thursday, March 22, 2007
I've been reading through old journal entries. Even a year ago I had things to say: observations, philosophy, personal experiences that affected the course of my life. I had opinions and passion. Some of it was interesting to me, rereading, and I already know what it says!
Quite different from entries these days. I don't seem to be thinking much. It's like I'm on hold. Waiting. Listening to the uninspiring music in my head.
-------------------------------------------------
Today I got the Aerio checked out, and as expected, it was a loose heat shield. They removed it. Seems like every car I've ever owned eventually lost its heat shield. One of these days I'm going to park in high grass and burn a village down.
Then I went to the mall and got a major eye exam, four different kinds of drops, dilation, six different machines to peer into, the works. Conclusion: I don't have hardening of the eyeball or rotting of the retina. And just for fun, I got a definitive analysis of my eye color.
The doctor kept saying "Your eyes are such a beautiful color", so I asked him, "What color are they, exactly? There's always been some difference of opinion there, and you should be an expert." He said "Gray, uh, gray-blue, uh, gray-green? Gee, I don't know." So he said "Let's go back to the microscope, and I'll tell you exactly what you've got in there."
I don't know if it's common or rare, but he seemed to be surprised by what he found, or what he didn't find. I have some bits of brown right around the pupil, and some specks of definite green throughout the rest of the iris, but that's the only color there. NO blue, and NO gray. What was surprising is that most of the iris has NO COLOR at all! None. There's no pigment. He said that's what causes the silvery color, and also why they can be very different depending on what I'm wearing, and the ambient light.
(So, if I have mostly no pigment, why am I not more sensitive to strong light?) Anyway, he kept marveling over how light my eyes are. Oddly, they've never looked particularly light to me, but things do look different in a mirror. Mirrors affect color. Ladies with blue hair think it's steel gray.
I lucked out on the frames. Among the thousands of narrow frames, there was one small stand of rounder, deeper frames, and they were on sale! I bought two pairs (I am so dependant on my glasses, I always get two), one at $98, and the other at $87. The $87 ones were originally $250, and they're the ones you can bend every which way and they spring back. They're both half-frames, with the nylon thread around the bottom of the lens. The lenses, on the other hand, were $250 per pair.
The whole procedure took five hours, and cost $500 after the 30% discount AAA got me. I do have vision insurance through The Company health plan, but, well, nobody but a few private practice ophthalmologists accept it.
It takes ages for my eyes to "undilate", so that shot the rest of the day.
Dr. said there was a large change in my prescription, I'm a lot less nearsighted now (one of the few benefits of age) and it might take a few days for me to get used to the difference.
I notice no difference, other than that I can now read the newspaper.
.
I've been reading through old journal entries. Even a year ago I had things to say: observations, philosophy, personal experiences that affected the course of my life. I had opinions and passion. Some of it was interesting to me, rereading, and I already know what it says!
Quite different from entries these days. I don't seem to be thinking much. It's like I'm on hold. Waiting. Listening to the uninspiring music in my head.
-------------------------------------------------
Today I got the Aerio checked out, and as expected, it was a loose heat shield. They removed it. Seems like every car I've ever owned eventually lost its heat shield. One of these days I'm going to park in high grass and burn a village down.
Then I went to the mall and got a major eye exam, four different kinds of drops, dilation, six different machines to peer into, the works. Conclusion: I don't have hardening of the eyeball or rotting of the retina. And just for fun, I got a definitive analysis of my eye color.
The doctor kept saying "Your eyes are such a beautiful color", so I asked him, "What color are they, exactly? There's always been some difference of opinion there, and you should be an expert." He said "Gray, uh, gray-blue, uh, gray-green? Gee, I don't know." So he said "Let's go back to the microscope, and I'll tell you exactly what you've got in there."
I don't know if it's common or rare, but he seemed to be surprised by what he found, or what he didn't find. I have some bits of brown right around the pupil, and some specks of definite green throughout the rest of the iris, but that's the only color there. NO blue, and NO gray. What was surprising is that most of the iris has NO COLOR at all! None. There's no pigment. He said that's what causes the silvery color, and also why they can be very different depending on what I'm wearing, and the ambient light.
(So, if I have mostly no pigment, why am I not more sensitive to strong light?) Anyway, he kept marveling over how light my eyes are. Oddly, they've never looked particularly light to me, but things do look different in a mirror. Mirrors affect color. Ladies with blue hair think it's steel gray.
I lucked out on the frames. Among the thousands of narrow frames, there was one small stand of rounder, deeper frames, and they were on sale! I bought two pairs (I am so dependant on my glasses, I always get two), one at $98, and the other at $87. The $87 ones were originally $250, and they're the ones you can bend every which way and they spring back. They're both half-frames, with the nylon thread around the bottom of the lens. The lenses, on the other hand, were $250 per pair.
The whole procedure took five hours, and cost $500 after the 30% discount AAA got me. I do have vision insurance through The Company health plan, but, well, nobody but a few private practice ophthalmologists accept it.
It takes ages for my eyes to "undilate", so that shot the rest of the day.
Dr. said there was a large change in my prescription, I'm a lot less nearsighted now (one of the few benefits of age) and it might take a few days for me to get used to the difference.
I notice no difference, other than that I can now read the newspaper.
.
1177 Who's in Poughkeepsie?
I've had a visit here from someone in Poughkeepsie! And they came directly, not through a random search, so they knew where they were going.
Confess! Who are you?
.
Confess! Who are you?
.
1176 The Painting I'd Like to Step Into
As promised -
The painting I'd most like to step into for a visit is one of Cassius Coolidge's painting of dogs playing poker.
.
The painting I'd most like to step into for a visit is one of Cassius Coolidge's painting of dogs playing poker.
.
1175 What's Normal?
"Normalize" means "to make normal". When our historical relationship with another country has been one of mutual suspicion, distrust, and reprisal, why do "they" speak of improving the relationship as an attempt to normalize it? That always grates on my ears.
.
.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
1174 I Have a Printer!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
I ran a bunch of errands today.
I went to the bank and deposited a check for $1.37 - a dividend from one of those lots of stray stocks. It probably cost them more to cut and send the check. Got some cash for the weekend.
The Aerio has developed a rattly noise underneath. Probably a loose bolt, probably the exhaust system cover or something. With the six-hour drive into central Pa. coming up this weekend, I went looking for someplace that could put it on a lift and fix it. Don't want something important falling off on my trip. It took me three garages to find someone who can look at it before Saturday. Appointment tomorrow, 9:30 am.
Went shopping for an anniversary gift for the college friend and his wife, the folks I'll be visiting this weekend. I have determined that there is no nice lead crystal in all of Kingston. There are also no afghans. I ended up with a brass and glass world globe, where the countries are all different inset stones. Not at all what I wanted, but Piper has a smaller one on his desk, and I had always admired it.
Along the way I bought a set of Egyptian cotton sheets at one of the mall anchor stores, on sale, and two sheer tops. My arms look awful, because the skin on my upper arms hasn't tightened since I lost the weight, so I think this summer I'll mostly wear 3/4 sleeves. I want some very light sheer things I can wear over sleeveless stuff I already have. Old Navy had some gauzy picot knits with a wide deep neckline that seem perfect.
I visited an office supply store to buy the printer cable, and discovered that they had paper on sale, so I bought a box of 4 reams of paper that's usually $28 per box, for $7.
When I got home, I connected up the printer (the one that had been sitting over there unused for the past two-plus years), turned on the laptop, and ... it took off and installed the printer itself. It works perfectly.
Went to Epson.com to find out how much I can expect to pay for ink refills. ACK!!!!
.
I ran a bunch of errands today.
I went to the bank and deposited a check for $1.37 - a dividend from one of those lots of stray stocks. It probably cost them more to cut and send the check. Got some cash for the weekend.
The Aerio has developed a rattly noise underneath. Probably a loose bolt, probably the exhaust system cover or something. With the six-hour drive into central Pa. coming up this weekend, I went looking for someplace that could put it on a lift and fix it. Don't want something important falling off on my trip. It took me three garages to find someone who can look at it before Saturday. Appointment tomorrow, 9:30 am.
Went shopping for an anniversary gift for the college friend and his wife, the folks I'll be visiting this weekend. I have determined that there is no nice lead crystal in all of Kingston. There are also no afghans. I ended up with a brass and glass world globe, where the countries are all different inset stones. Not at all what I wanted, but Piper has a smaller one on his desk, and I had always admired it.
Along the way I bought a set of Egyptian cotton sheets at one of the mall anchor stores, on sale, and two sheer tops. My arms look awful, because the skin on my upper arms hasn't tightened since I lost the weight, so I think this summer I'll mostly wear 3/4 sleeves. I want some very light sheer things I can wear over sleeveless stuff I already have. Old Navy had some gauzy picot knits with a wide deep neckline that seem perfect.
I visited an office supply store to buy the printer cable, and discovered that they had paper on sale, so I bought a box of 4 reams of paper that's usually $28 per box, for $7.
When I got home, I connected up the printer (the one that had been sitting over there unused for the past two-plus years), turned on the laptop, and ... it took off and installed the printer itself. It works perfectly.
Went to Epson.com to find out how much I can expect to pay for ink refills. ACK!!!!
.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
1173 Too Tired
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
I'm very tired today. I haven't slept well in the past two weeks or more. It's not obsessive thoughts, the usual problem when I don't sleep, it's physical pain. My body aches. Hips, shoulders, neck. I can't get comfortable, I keep waking up, and in the morning I hurt. It may be the pillow. They die after a while....
Maybe there should have been at least two semicolons in the above paragraph. I probably should learn semicolon rules.
My goal for today was to get the printer hooked up to the laptop. I kept putting it off because the last time I installed a printer on the desktop, I screwed it up somehow. The PC knows it's there, the printer "burps" at the appropriate times, but when I try to send a file to it, I'm informed it's offline. I've been without a printer for about two and a half years. Saved a lot on ink and paper. It turns out you don't really have to print all the things you think you do. Only once did I have to print a large amount of info, and a friend let me use her computer. The rest has been just a few online travel tickets, and those I do at Piper's, or Roman's, or Daughter's.
At 9 pm I said ok, let's just do it, and discovered that I don't have a connector for the USB port. Ok. Safe for tonight. I'll have to go buy a cable tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
.
I'm very tired today. I haven't slept well in the past two weeks or more. It's not obsessive thoughts, the usual problem when I don't sleep, it's physical pain. My body aches. Hips, shoulders, neck. I can't get comfortable, I keep waking up, and in the morning I hurt. It may be the pillow. They die after a while....
Maybe there should have been at least two semicolons in the above paragraph. I probably should learn semicolon rules.
My goal for today was to get the printer hooked up to the laptop. I kept putting it off because the last time I installed a printer on the desktop, I screwed it up somehow. The PC knows it's there, the printer "burps" at the appropriate times, but when I try to send a file to it, I'm informed it's offline. I've been without a printer for about two and a half years. Saved a lot on ink and paper. It turns out you don't really have to print all the things you think you do. Only once did I have to print a large amount of info, and a friend let me use her computer. The rest has been just a few online travel tickets, and those I do at Piper's, or Roman's, or Daughter's.
At 9 pm I said ok, let's just do it, and discovered that I don't have a connector for the USB port. Ok. Safe for tonight. I'll have to go buy a cable tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
.
Monday, March 19, 2007
1172 Financial News
Monday, March 19, 2007
Ticklers from today's financial news:
Can I call it? I'd have felt really bad if I had sold out when I was supposed to. This doesn't mean it won't dip again, but the future looks better.
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Ticklers from today's financial news:
- Stocks spike on news of merger deals...
- Stocks spiker higher Monday as Wall Street joined overseas markets in riding a wave...
- ExxonMobil up on OPEC...
- Mergers warm Wall Street after subprime chills...
Can I call it? I'd have felt really bad if I had sold out when I was supposed to. This doesn't mean it won't dip again, but the future looks better.
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1171 Step In
Monday, March 19, 2007
Time to leave a comment!
If a famous painting could suddenly come alive, and if you could step into the painting, become a part of the scene, but invisible to the people in the scene, for perhaps a half hour or so, what painting would you want to visit?
The comment facility might ask you to log in with your Google id, but it's my understanding that if you select "anonymous", it skips the logging in part.
My second choice is the Vermeer painting of the woman standing at a window with the light flowing over her, reading a letter. I want to know what's in the letter, and I'd like to see the house and the neighborhood.
I'll tell my first choice on Wednesday.
.
Time to leave a comment!
If a famous painting could suddenly come alive, and if you could step into the painting, become a part of the scene, but invisible to the people in the scene, for perhaps a half hour or so, what painting would you want to visit?
The comment facility might ask you to log in with your Google id, but it's my understanding that if you select "anonymous", it skips the logging in part.
My second choice is the Vermeer painting of the woman standing at a window with the light flowing over her, reading a letter. I want to know what's in the letter, and I'd like to see the house and the neighborhood.
I'll tell my first choice on Wednesday.
.
1170 Financial Decisions
Monday, March 19, 2007
Talked with Daughter yesterday. Her father has agreed to retire, has signed the papers, and will be moving back east. His elderly mother's home has her old beauty parlor attached, and his sister has begun converting it into an apartment for him. The ball's rolling. I guess the main impetus was when his blood sugar got low enough that he was able to look around and realize all the things he had let go, like the taxes, car registration, and so on. Daughter was supposed to return last Saturday, but her flight had been canceled because of the snow, so she's returning Tuesday, late. I asked her what the weather was like there, and she said it's in the 70s. I was surprised. It's in the low 20s here, and near Boulder it's 70s?
According to both the thermostat and the thermometer on the desk, it's 74 in my house right now, and I'm still freezing. My hands and nose and legs are so cold. Maybe it's because there's no sun today. Maybe I'm not eating enough fats or something. I am literally shivering.
Piper told me last Wednesday that he wants me to sell all my odd lots of stock, and about half the large oil company blocks "by the end of the week", so we can transfer more into bonds and mutual funds. By the end of last week. He said that the recent severe drops in the market wouldn't affect the odd lots much (like, 3 shares of this cheap stock, 14 shares of that moribund albatross, most acquired through spinoffs), and that the oil stocks have held their value, so they'd be ok. Well, I got busy with other stuff, and it didn't happen.
I spent much of today gathering transfer agent contact information, and researching recent market activity on the stocks, intending to make the sell order calls this afternoon. And now I'm glad I didn't sell last week, and I think it'll be a while before I unload the oil stocks.
Yeah, the oil stocks didn't drop much in the "market correction", relative to the share price, not like other industries that got hit harder, but it still averages out to $7 per share. Considering that I was about to sell more than 2,000 shares, a drop of $7 is $14,000 !!! The drop in oil stocks is a temporary "ouch" reaction, and it's going to go back up, faster probably than the rest of the market. So, uh uh, I'm not going to sell right now. Piper will just have to wait.
Yeah, ok, why do I have a financial adviser if I won't listen to his advice?
He's not just looking at the stock sale prices - he's also looking at tax issues and the prices of the tax-free bonds and mutual funds he wants to buy. That's what he does. But I have a feeling that the oil stock will rise before the bonds and funds. Oil will be ahead of the average. If it takes two months (and I don't think it'll take that long), that's only two months of taxes. That's not so bad. I have this weird idea that I can take a $14,000 "loss" to buy less expensive bonds, and bonds don't grow, or I can "grow" $14,000 then buy $14,000 more bonds, which retain value. The latter makes more sense to me.
Piper's job is to recommend a conservative and cautious path. I'm willing to take a chance. We get along because he doesn't fuss at me when I do it.
.
Talked with Daughter yesterday. Her father has agreed to retire, has signed the papers, and will be moving back east. His elderly mother's home has her old beauty parlor attached, and his sister has begun converting it into an apartment for him. The ball's rolling. I guess the main impetus was when his blood sugar got low enough that he was able to look around and realize all the things he had let go, like the taxes, car registration, and so on. Daughter was supposed to return last Saturday, but her flight had been canceled because of the snow, so she's returning Tuesday, late. I asked her what the weather was like there, and she said it's in the 70s. I was surprised. It's in the low 20s here, and near Boulder it's 70s?
According to both the thermostat and the thermometer on the desk, it's 74 in my house right now, and I'm still freezing. My hands and nose and legs are so cold. Maybe it's because there's no sun today. Maybe I'm not eating enough fats or something. I am literally shivering.
Piper told me last Wednesday that he wants me to sell all my odd lots of stock, and about half the large oil company blocks "by the end of the week", so we can transfer more into bonds and mutual funds. By the end of last week. He said that the recent severe drops in the market wouldn't affect the odd lots much (like, 3 shares of this cheap stock, 14 shares of that moribund albatross, most acquired through spinoffs), and that the oil stocks have held their value, so they'd be ok. Well, I got busy with other stuff, and it didn't happen.
I spent much of today gathering transfer agent contact information, and researching recent market activity on the stocks, intending to make the sell order calls this afternoon. And now I'm glad I didn't sell last week, and I think it'll be a while before I unload the oil stocks.
Yeah, the oil stocks didn't drop much in the "market correction", relative to the share price, not like other industries that got hit harder, but it still averages out to $7 per share. Considering that I was about to sell more than 2,000 shares, a drop of $7 is $14,000 !!! The drop in oil stocks is a temporary "ouch" reaction, and it's going to go back up, faster probably than the rest of the market. So, uh uh, I'm not going to sell right now. Piper will just have to wait.
Yeah, ok, why do I have a financial adviser if I won't listen to his advice?
He's not just looking at the stock sale prices - he's also looking at tax issues and the prices of the tax-free bonds and mutual funds he wants to buy. That's what he does. But I have a feeling that the oil stock will rise before the bonds and funds. Oil will be ahead of the average. If it takes two months (and I don't think it'll take that long), that's only two months of taxes. That's not so bad. I have this weird idea that I can take a $14,000 "loss" to buy less expensive bonds, and bonds don't grow, or I can "grow" $14,000 then buy $14,000 more bonds, which retain value. The latter makes more sense to me.
Piper's job is to recommend a conservative and cautious path. I'm willing to take a chance. We get along because he doesn't fuss at me when I do it.
.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
1169 Green Eggs
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Sore today. Hips and thighs. Stiff. Three hours with the snowthrower yesterday. Yeah, it's self-propelled, but it's big and heavy, and yesterday's snow required a lot of turning and fighting the pull to the cutting side, and backing up when it got overwhelmed. A lot. Turning and pulling it backward requires that I throw my whole body into it.
Two hour bubble bath on the evening schedule.
This morning was the annual Green Eggs and Ham breakfast at NJ's, to celebrate St. Patrick's Day and Dr. Seuss's birthday. The scrambled eggs really are green. The champagne is not. There were maybe 14-15 of us there, and it was good. I am burping Bloody Mary.
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Sore today. Hips and thighs. Stiff. Three hours with the snowthrower yesterday. Yeah, it's self-propelled, but it's big and heavy, and yesterday's snow required a lot of turning and fighting the pull to the cutting side, and backing up when it got overwhelmed. A lot. Turning and pulling it backward requires that I throw my whole body into it.
Two hour bubble bath on the evening schedule.
This morning was the annual Green Eggs and Ham breakfast at NJ's, to celebrate St. Patrick's Day and Dr. Seuss's birthday. The scrambled eggs really are green. The champagne is not. There were maybe 14-15 of us there, and it was good. I am burping Bloody Mary.
.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Pet Food Recall
Saturday, March 17, 2007
If you have a pet, go to http://www.menufoods.com/recall/.
A major pet food manufacturer, who packs food for a gazillion brands, is recalling cat and dog foods. Pets have been suffering sudden fatal kidney failure after eating the recalled foods. Especially if you feed your beasty cut meat, or meat in gravy, in cans or foil packets, go look at the list of recalled foods.
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If you have a pet, go to http://www.menufoods.com/recall/.
A major pet food manufacturer, who packs food for a gazillion brands, is recalling cat and dog foods. Pets have been suffering sudden fatal kidney failure after eating the recalled foods. Especially if you feed your beasty cut meat, or meat in gravy, in cans or foil packets, go look at the list of recalled foods.
.
1168 Snow Tired
Saturday, March 17, 2007
It took me three hours to (partially) clear the driveway. The snow ranged from 12 to 18 inches, but it probably started out deeper, because it was heavily packed and crusted on top. Sleet or freezing rain at the end of the storm must have packed it.
It usually takes me 1.25 hours to clear it completely. Today I managed the length of the "road" side-to-side, but at the top of the drive, I managed only a big "Y", so I can pull the Aerio in, and turn it around to get out, but that's all. The van is still up to its door handles, and I think it's likely to stay that way now until thaw.
The main problem was that the snow was so dense the snow thrower couldn't throw it far. I start with the middle and clear out to the edges, but this time before I got halfway to the edges, the snow and what had been thrown on top of it got to be over three feet high, and it was just too hard to keep trying to push it farther over. When the snow thrower couldn't throw the snow over the bank, I had to give up.
I'm hoping it will all melt within the next two weeks.
---------------------------------------------------
Another one of those "misheard lyrics", like hearing "There's a bathroom on the right" instead of "There's a bad moon on the rise". Instead of "Lay, lady, lay. Lay across my big brass bed", I thought it said "Leah, Lady Leah, play it with my big brass band."
---------------------------------------------------
A motivational speaker on PBS this morning said that the common perception among youth is that older people are "conventional", but in reality, nobody is as conventional as teenagers. ("Conventional" was her word.) That teenagers feel they have to do, wear, be, speak exactly like "everyone else" to be accepted.
Yeah, that does seem to be true today, but in my experience it wasn't true in the sixties and seventies. Maybe it was because I went to a very small high school in a mountain area, and then taught in a small town high school. Has it changed? Is it harder to be different now? If so, why?
.
It took me three hours to (partially) clear the driveway. The snow ranged from 12 to 18 inches, but it probably started out deeper, because it was heavily packed and crusted on top. Sleet or freezing rain at the end of the storm must have packed it.
It usually takes me 1.25 hours to clear it completely. Today I managed the length of the "road" side-to-side, but at the top of the drive, I managed only a big "Y", so I can pull the Aerio in, and turn it around to get out, but that's all. The van is still up to its door handles, and I think it's likely to stay that way now until thaw.
The main problem was that the snow was so dense the snow thrower couldn't throw it far. I start with the middle and clear out to the edges, but this time before I got halfway to the edges, the snow and what had been thrown on top of it got to be over three feet high, and it was just too hard to keep trying to push it farther over. When the snow thrower couldn't throw the snow over the bank, I had to give up.
I'm hoping it will all melt within the next two weeks.
---------------------------------------------------
Another one of those "misheard lyrics", like hearing "There's a bathroom on the right" instead of "There's a bad moon on the rise". Instead of "Lay, lady, lay. Lay across my big brass bed", I thought it said "Leah, Lady Leah, play it with my big brass band."
---------------------------------------------------
A motivational speaker on PBS this morning said that the common perception among youth is that older people are "conventional", but in reality, nobody is as conventional as teenagers. ("Conventional" was her word.) That teenagers feel they have to do, wear, be, speak exactly like "everyone else" to be accepted.
Yeah, that does seem to be true today, but in my experience it wasn't true in the sixties and seventies. Maybe it was because I went to a very small high school in a mountain area, and then taught in a small town high school. Has it changed? Is it harder to be different now? If so, why?
.
Friday, March 16, 2007
1167 An Amazing Blog
"Days of my Life" (http://livesstrong.blogspot.com/) is written by a young lady, barely 15 years old, who lives in Iraq. It's a mix of her daily life's joys and boredoms, punctuated by moments of sheer terror.
Go. Read. Learn. Understand.
Go. Read. Learn. Understand.
1166 Parade and Snow
Friday, March 16, 2007
Wednesday, it was 75 F in Poughkeepsie. Today it's 23 F, and snowing.
FirstWoman and I were supposed to go to Saugerstock this evening for Monica's Kneepads. I called her late afternoon to tell her I already had six inches of snow in the driveway, and I wasn't going anywhere. She called an hour later to say that her car was stuck in her driveway - so I don't feel so guilty about canceling out on her again.
I went to a nursing home in Kingston this morning as part of a "swat team" to help with a St. Patrick's Day parade. The nursing home was surprisingly large. I was dispatched with balloons for the nursing stations, and couldn't find my way back to the commons.
The place was VERY decorated. The parade included "floats", shopping carts decorated by various residents' clubs. (I was amused that the shopping cart handles bore the names of various grocery stores.) The parade had a bagpipe corps, and close to 100 residents in wheelchairs, all of whom were pushed by volunteers or off-duty employees. The chairs and the people were also decorated. I saw some amusing hats. All the residents who weren't in the parade lined the halls, and the parade "followed the right wall" through the entire building.
I pushed the choral group's float.
I didn't see any residents who were not either in a wheelchair or using a walker. The resident in front of me in the parade, a frail-looking lady, was using a walker, and I was amazed that she walked so far so easily.
It had started snowing before I left there at noon.
I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a Vista for dummies-type book, and looked in Pier 1 for ideas for an anniversary gift for a friend, and by the time I got back to my street, I had a hard time getting up the hill. Almost didn't make it up the driveway - had to keep two wheels on the grass.
I had no gas for the snowthrower, and had planned to go buy some mid-afternoon, before the snow started (yeah, sure). The minivan had so much trouble getting up the hill, I was sure the Aerio wouldn't make it at all, being so much lighter, but by the time I had put warmer clothes and boots on, the snow was too deep for the van (only 4" clearance because it's a dropped-floor handicap van), and I was forced to take the Aerio.
I was very pleasantly surprised. Suzy had absolutely no trouble making it up the hill in five inches of snow, and no trouble with the driveway. It was like she didn't even notice. Good Girl!
.
Wednesday, it was 75 F in Poughkeepsie. Today it's 23 F, and snowing.
FirstWoman and I were supposed to go to Saugerstock this evening for Monica's Kneepads. I called her late afternoon to tell her I already had six inches of snow in the driveway, and I wasn't going anywhere. She called an hour later to say that her car was stuck in her driveway - so I don't feel so guilty about canceling out on her again.
I went to a nursing home in Kingston this morning as part of a "swat team" to help with a St. Patrick's Day parade. The nursing home was surprisingly large. I was dispatched with balloons for the nursing stations, and couldn't find my way back to the commons.
The place was VERY decorated. The parade included "floats", shopping carts decorated by various residents' clubs. (I was amused that the shopping cart handles bore the names of various grocery stores.) The parade had a bagpipe corps, and close to 100 residents in wheelchairs, all of whom were pushed by volunteers or off-duty employees. The chairs and the people were also decorated. I saw some amusing hats. All the residents who weren't in the parade lined the halls, and the parade "followed the right wall" through the entire building.
I pushed the choral group's float.
I didn't see any residents who were not either in a wheelchair or using a walker. The resident in front of me in the parade, a frail-looking lady, was using a walker, and I was amazed that she walked so far so easily.
It had started snowing before I left there at noon.
I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a Vista for dummies-type book, and looked in Pier 1 for ideas for an anniversary gift for a friend, and by the time I got back to my street, I had a hard time getting up the hill. Almost didn't make it up the driveway - had to keep two wheels on the grass.
I had no gas for the snowthrower, and had planned to go buy some mid-afternoon, before the snow started (yeah, sure). The minivan had so much trouble getting up the hill, I was sure the Aerio wouldn't make it at all, being so much lighter, but by the time I had put warmer clothes and boots on, the snow was too deep for the van (only 4" clearance because it's a dropped-floor handicap van), and I was forced to take the Aerio.
I was very pleasantly surprised. Suzy had absolutely no trouble making it up the hill in five inches of snow, and no trouble with the driveway. It was like she didn't even notice. Good Girl!
.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
1165 Thursday
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Busy day. Ran some errands in the morning, then to the museum where I spent the afternoon processing membership renewals (a job that really should be done by someone who gets PAID for it!) Back home, washed hair and changed clothes, then to Poughkeepsie for Third Thursday dinner.
After dinner, Roman and I and my new laptop went to Barnes & Noble (they have WiFi in the cafe), where Roman helped me with some questions I had about the laptop. He presented me with my very own fire engine red mini-mouse. They had to chase us out when they closed.
.
Busy day. Ran some errands in the morning, then to the museum where I spent the afternoon processing membership renewals (a job that really should be done by someone who gets PAID for it!) Back home, washed hair and changed clothes, then to Poughkeepsie for Third Thursday dinner.
After dinner, Roman and I and my new laptop went to Barnes & Noble (they have WiFi in the cafe), where Roman helped me with some questions I had about the laptop. He presented me with my very own fire engine red mini-mouse. They had to chase us out when they closed.
.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
1164 Dancing Fool
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Ballroom dance class this evening. I'm so frustrated by the whole topic.
I have never learned to dance, not really. Our parents never made any effort toward socializing us, and I went to a tiny high school in the middle of nowhere. We never had any dances, other than the prom, and everybody lived too far apart to just hang out and dance. We'd go to Manny's, occasionally, where there was a jukebox, but mostly we just sat around and listened to the music. Farm/mountain boys don't dance a lot. At the Russian hall we did folk dances and polkas.
In college there were weekly dances at the Husky Lounge, but I wasn't dating, and so I didn't dance much. The Twist was easy, and the Madison, and a few other mass dances. With my left/right learning disability, it was impossible for me to simply watch people and then do what they do. Still is.
I met Ex#1 at a college dance, but I don't think we ever actually danced. He was drafted during my senior year, we were married a few days after I graduated, he went to Germany and I went to a teaching job in Gettysburg, and for the next three years we were together only when he was on leave, and we never danced.
Between Ex#1 and Ex#2 I dated Amadeo. Amadeo was a dancer. The Cha Cha and Mambo were big. Also, Amadeo was short, just my size. He was a strong lead, and I learned with him. I was confident on the dance floor for the first time ever. We cleared the floor once in a club in New Haven, doing a combination Swing/Cha Cha. People cheered and clapped, and the band kept playing until we quit ourselves. I think back on that now, and can hardly believe it happened.
Then I married Ex#2. He didn't dance. Period.
In my 30s I took up Mid-Eastern dance, on the advice of my chiropractor, to help strengthen my back. That's when I learned something I didn't know - I not only have no sense of rhythm, I can't hear the beat! In Mid-Eastern dance, there are only a few common rhythms, and they are quite different. But even after 30 years and thousands of hours of listening and dancing, I still can't tell them apart. Well, I usually recognize a beladi (dum dum tek-a-tek dum tek-a-tek tek-a), but sometimes I confuse it with saidi (dum tek tek-a-dum dum tek-a-tek tek-a). The only one I consistently recognize is the ayub, or zar, which has a unique bouncing sound (dum, ka dum tek), but half the time I can't remember what it's called.
I was good, back when I was slender and muscular, and could do the floorwork. Not so good with the fast stuff, I could easily get off the beat, but with the slow, I hear I was the epitome of sensual. (Kashalamar was my rhythm. Too bad I didn't recognize it half the time.) I stopped dancing shortly after moving from Washington to here, in 1983, and didn't get back to it until 2005ish.
Jay was a competitive ballroom dancer, with trophies and everything, before he moved from Texas to here. When we were dating, we tried dancing once - a polka - and it was such a disaster we never danced again. He didn't seem to miss it. Without a club here, it just didn't come up, I guess. Maybe the Asperger's?
So here I am. Until New Year's Eve, I hadn't danced, "out", in public, in more than 20 years, and now I want to. I am extremely shy about dancing. I always feel so clumsy. I don't know what to do. I watch kids now, and I can't figure out what they're doing. It looks like they're just jumping up and down, and I can't (won't!) do that.
On New Year's Eve, I did my own thing, and several women told me that I move beautifully. I have graceful arms, and lots of smooth hip action, but my feet kind of get lost. In the ballroom dance class, several women said that I look so graceful, "you float". Complete strangers. I got an email from someone who had been at the dance at the Mensa gathering - I didn't go to the dance floor, but I did move to the music standing next to the table - and he said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, and I hope it doesn't come across as inappropriate, but you are one amazing dancer. I couldn't keep my eyes off you when you were moving to the music. I love to dance, but don't know many women who enjoy it. At our age, a lot of them have settled into a boring life and don't like doing anything physically exerting."
Wow. I'm impressed with me! (The "at our age" was a bonus. I think he's in his mid-forties.)
So, there's some possibility there. I've got something I should be able to work with.
The ballroom dance class was supposed to give me some "ah, so this is what you do with your feet", which can be modified to fit what's actually going on.
'Tain't working. It's destroying what little confidence I'd acquired over the past few months.
First off, I can't "hear" the beat. I can't tell a waltz from a rumba. I can't figure out how fast or slow you're supposed to go. It all sounds the same to me. I can't make my feet do what they're supposed to do. It's all a mixed up mish-mash. I can't even maintain an ordinary vanilla box step.
Maybe it would help if I had a strong partner. There is one guy in the class who came with his wife, but she broke her arm and is sitting out, so he has decided he's MY partner, and he's awful. He doesn't telegraph at all, and just changes direction suddenly, tromping all over me. Worse than no partner at all. Which is the alternative....
I don't know whether to keep going or not. I was just starting to feel hopeful and courageous about getting out on a dance floor, and this class is chewing away at that.
.
Ballroom dance class this evening. I'm so frustrated by the whole topic.
I have never learned to dance, not really. Our parents never made any effort toward socializing us, and I went to a tiny high school in the middle of nowhere. We never had any dances, other than the prom, and everybody lived too far apart to just hang out and dance. We'd go to Manny's, occasionally, where there was a jukebox, but mostly we just sat around and listened to the music. Farm/mountain boys don't dance a lot. At the Russian hall we did folk dances and polkas.
In college there were weekly dances at the Husky Lounge, but I wasn't dating, and so I didn't dance much. The Twist was easy, and the Madison, and a few other mass dances. With my left/right learning disability, it was impossible for me to simply watch people and then do what they do. Still is.
I met Ex#1 at a college dance, but I don't think we ever actually danced. He was drafted during my senior year, we were married a few days after I graduated, he went to Germany and I went to a teaching job in Gettysburg, and for the next three years we were together only when he was on leave, and we never danced.
Between Ex#1 and Ex#2 I dated Amadeo. Amadeo was a dancer. The Cha Cha and Mambo were big. Also, Amadeo was short, just my size. He was a strong lead, and I learned with him. I was confident on the dance floor for the first time ever. We cleared the floor once in a club in New Haven, doing a combination Swing/Cha Cha. People cheered and clapped, and the band kept playing until we quit ourselves. I think back on that now, and can hardly believe it happened.
Then I married Ex#2. He didn't dance. Period.
In my 30s I took up Mid-Eastern dance, on the advice of my chiropractor, to help strengthen my back. That's when I learned something I didn't know - I not only have no sense of rhythm, I can't hear the beat! In Mid-Eastern dance, there are only a few common rhythms, and they are quite different. But even after 30 years and thousands of hours of listening and dancing, I still can't tell them apart. Well, I usually recognize a beladi (dum dum tek-a-tek dum tek-a-tek tek-a), but sometimes I confuse it with saidi (dum tek tek-a-dum dum tek-a-tek tek-a). The only one I consistently recognize is the ayub, or zar, which has a unique bouncing sound (dum, ka dum tek), but half the time I can't remember what it's called.
I was good, back when I was slender and muscular, and could do the floorwork. Not so good with the fast stuff, I could easily get off the beat, but with the slow, I hear I was the epitome of sensual. (Kashalamar was my rhythm. Too bad I didn't recognize it half the time.) I stopped dancing shortly after moving from Washington to here, in 1983, and didn't get back to it until 2005ish.
Jay was a competitive ballroom dancer, with trophies and everything, before he moved from Texas to here. When we were dating, we tried dancing once - a polka - and it was such a disaster we never danced again. He didn't seem to miss it. Without a club here, it just didn't come up, I guess. Maybe the Asperger's?
So here I am. Until New Year's Eve, I hadn't danced, "out", in public, in more than 20 years, and now I want to. I am extremely shy about dancing. I always feel so clumsy. I don't know what to do. I watch kids now, and I can't figure out what they're doing. It looks like they're just jumping up and down, and I can't (won't!) do that.
On New Year's Eve, I did my own thing, and several women told me that I move beautifully. I have graceful arms, and lots of smooth hip action, but my feet kind of get lost. In the ballroom dance class, several women said that I look so graceful, "you float". Complete strangers. I got an email from someone who had been at the dance at the Mensa gathering - I didn't go to the dance floor, but I did move to the music standing next to the table - and he said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, and I hope it doesn't come across as inappropriate, but you are one amazing dancer. I couldn't keep my eyes off you when you were moving to the music. I love to dance, but don't know many women who enjoy it. At our age, a lot of them have settled into a boring life and don't like doing anything physically exerting."
Wow. I'm impressed with me! (The "at our age" was a bonus. I think he's in his mid-forties.)
So, there's some possibility there. I've got something I should be able to work with.
The ballroom dance class was supposed to give me some "ah, so this is what you do with your feet", which can be modified to fit what's actually going on.
'Tain't working. It's destroying what little confidence I'd acquired over the past few months.
First off, I can't "hear" the beat. I can't tell a waltz from a rumba. I can't figure out how fast or slow you're supposed to go. It all sounds the same to me. I can't make my feet do what they're supposed to do. It's all a mixed up mish-mash. I can't even maintain an ordinary vanilla box step.
Maybe it would help if I had a strong partner. There is one guy in the class who came with his wife, but she broke her arm and is sitting out, so he has decided he's MY partner, and he's awful. He doesn't telegraph at all, and just changes direction suddenly, tromping all over me. Worse than no partner at all. Which is the alternative....
I don't know whether to keep going or not. I was just starting to feel hopeful and courageous about getting out on a dance floor, and this class is chewing away at that.
.
1162 Validation
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Dr. Phil said something on his show the other day that stopped me cold. He just threw it out as a casual comment, and it's one of those things that "everyone knows", but until you hear someone say it, make it "real", it's just passed off.
He was talking to a husband who had hurt his wife's feelings somehow. The husband wished she'd just "get over it". (I think - I wasn't watching, just caught it in passing.) Anyway, Dr. Phil said something like "She will never get over this until she knows you fully understand what this did to her."
My head went ka-boing.
I have often been accused (by men, mainly) of not "letting it go". I do tend to hang on to some hurts and chew them over and over. Other hurts I do let go of. What's the difference? Yes, it does come down to whether or not I believe the other person fully understands the impact of their actions. If they understand, I can let it go. They don't even have to apologize - just understand how it affected me. Until they do understand, I do keep coming back to it, and a lot of men will refuse to look at it. They'll say "It's in the past", or "Don't go there", but it's not in the past. The effect is still with me! I want you to understand how I felt!
Your not wanting to understand makes me feel like you don't care.
That's probably why my sister and I are both still hung up on what our parents did to us (Sister more than I, actually). They are both dead now, but neither our mother nor our father ever recognized how their emotional and physical battering destroyed us kids. Sister and I have managed to salvage our self-respect, but both brothers have serious problems, and youngest sister drank herself to death. Sister and I can't "let go", because our parents never understood that they hurt us. And now they never will.
It's also why I still carry so much resentment toward Ex#2. He never understood my feelings about the crap he did, and didn't want to. There's no point in talking with him about any of it, because he still won't care how I feel. It's too threatening to him. So I carry around the resentment.
Ok. Now is there any way to drop it? I was able to release a lot of anger toward my parents by thinking, "Ok, they were sick. They didn't refuse to see, they were completely incapable of seeing." That won't work with Ex#2 because I know that although he does have some emotional problems, he IS capable of seeing. There were occasional glimpses of understanding. He's going to be a bit harder to let go of.
.
Dr. Phil said something on his show the other day that stopped me cold. He just threw it out as a casual comment, and it's one of those things that "everyone knows", but until you hear someone say it, make it "real", it's just passed off.
He was talking to a husband who had hurt his wife's feelings somehow. The husband wished she'd just "get over it". (I think - I wasn't watching, just caught it in passing.) Anyway, Dr. Phil said something like "She will never get over this until she knows you fully understand what this did to her."
My head went ka-boing.
I have often been accused (by men, mainly) of not "letting it go". I do tend to hang on to some hurts and chew them over and over. Other hurts I do let go of. What's the difference? Yes, it does come down to whether or not I believe the other person fully understands the impact of their actions. If they understand, I can let it go. They don't even have to apologize - just understand how it affected me. Until they do understand, I do keep coming back to it, and a lot of men will refuse to look at it. They'll say "It's in the past", or "Don't go there", but it's not in the past. The effect is still with me! I want you to understand how I felt!
Your not wanting to understand makes me feel like you don't care.
That's probably why my sister and I are both still hung up on what our parents did to us (Sister more than I, actually). They are both dead now, but neither our mother nor our father ever recognized how their emotional and physical battering destroyed us kids. Sister and I have managed to salvage our self-respect, but both brothers have serious problems, and youngest sister drank herself to death. Sister and I can't "let go", because our parents never understood that they hurt us. And now they never will.
It's also why I still carry so much resentment toward Ex#2. He never understood my feelings about the crap he did, and didn't want to. There's no point in talking with him about any of it, because he still won't care how I feel. It's too threatening to him. So I carry around the resentment.
Ok. Now is there any way to drop it? I was able to release a lot of anger toward my parents by thinking, "Ok, they were sick. They didn't refuse to see, they were completely incapable of seeing." That won't work with Ex#2 because I know that although he does have some emotional problems, he IS capable of seeing. There were occasional glimpses of understanding. He's going to be a bit harder to let go of.
.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
1161 WiFi in the Wilderness!
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
I'm sitting in the pizza parlor in the village writing this. Guess what? We've got WiFi in the village! Free and unlimited. Also unsafe, but ok, I can cope with that.
I stopped in to see Piper today. I was on my way to the museum when I saw his car parked in front of his office, and he's not supposed to be driving with his broken foot, so I was concerned.
Yeah, he's driving. Bad boy. But there are complications - his lady has just been diagnosed with breast cancer, will have surgery next week, I think. So I guess he thinks he has to take a load off her by getting himself around. I pointed out that she's going to need him long term, and that means he can't mess up his foot any more than it is. Can't delay healing, so no messing with it.
I pulled out the laptop to show it to him, and that's when I found out I could get a connection. So I was there most of the afternoon. Piper had to visit a customer across the street, so I was able to "pay for my keep" by answering phones and taking messages.
I intended to go to the museum today and handle the membership stuff, but got sidetracked by the sight of Piper's car. I guess that's the top "to do" for tomorrow.
------------------------------------
Later.
I got a small pizza with sausage, onion, and green pepper and brought it home. It's huge! I wonder if she gave me a medium by mistake. I've eaten 1/4 of it, two slices, and now I don't know what to do with the rest. I wonder if wild turkeys like pizza.
Something strange since Jay died. I never much cared for sugary desserts, especially things like chocolate cake. Chocolate cake, brownies, stuff like that, feel like they gum up my mouth. I don't like the heavy taste. Jay loved anything heavily chocolate, the gummier the better. I've also never much cared for Italian food in general (with the exception of warmed-over day-old leftover homemade spaghetti), and I didn't care for pizza in particular.
Jay had to have pizza once a week at least, or he suffered withdrawal. I usually ate a salad while I watched him scarf pizza.
Since he died, I have periodic strange cravings for chocolate cake, and for pizza, about twice or thrice a year. It'll start one day, and over three or four days it'll grow to where I can't think about anything else. So I have to go get some (cake or pizza). The strangest part is that I don't even enjoy it (well, sometimes maybe the cake), but I know I have to eat it or I will have no peace.
So that's why I don't know what to do with the leftover pizza. I won't want pizza again for three to six months, so there's no point in putting it in the refrigerator. I don't like pizza! (Next time I'll know better - the village pizza parlor now serves individual slices.)
I'm sitting in the pizza parlor in the village writing this. Guess what? We've got WiFi in the village! Free and unlimited. Also unsafe, but ok, I can cope with that.
I stopped in to see Piper today. I was on my way to the museum when I saw his car parked in front of his office, and he's not supposed to be driving with his broken foot, so I was concerned.
Yeah, he's driving. Bad boy. But there are complications - his lady has just been diagnosed with breast cancer, will have surgery next week, I think. So I guess he thinks he has to take a load off her by getting himself around. I pointed out that she's going to need him long term, and that means he can't mess up his foot any more than it is. Can't delay healing, so no messing with it.
I pulled out the laptop to show it to him, and that's when I found out I could get a connection. So I was there most of the afternoon. Piper had to visit a customer across the street, so I was able to "pay for my keep" by answering phones and taking messages.
I intended to go to the museum today and handle the membership stuff, but got sidetracked by the sight of Piper's car. I guess that's the top "to do" for tomorrow.
------------------------------------
Later.
I got a small pizza with sausage, onion, and green pepper and brought it home. It's huge! I wonder if she gave me a medium by mistake. I've eaten 1/4 of it, two slices, and now I don't know what to do with the rest. I wonder if wild turkeys like pizza.
Something strange since Jay died. I never much cared for sugary desserts, especially things like chocolate cake. Chocolate cake, brownies, stuff like that, feel like they gum up my mouth. I don't like the heavy taste. Jay loved anything heavily chocolate, the gummier the better. I've also never much cared for Italian food in general (with the exception of warmed-over day-old leftover homemade spaghetti), and I didn't care for pizza in particular.
Jay had to have pizza once a week at least, or he suffered withdrawal. I usually ate a salad while I watched him scarf pizza.
Since he died, I have periodic strange cravings for chocolate cake, and for pizza, about twice or thrice a year. It'll start one day, and over three or four days it'll grow to where I can't think about anything else. So I have to go get some (cake or pizza). The strangest part is that I don't even enjoy it (well, sometimes maybe the cake), but I know I have to eat it or I will have no peace.
So that's why I don't know what to do with the leftover pizza. I won't want pizza again for three to six months, so there's no point in putting it in the refrigerator. I don't like pizza! (Next time I'll know better - the village pizza parlor now serves individual slices.)
1160 It's Ageless
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
RussoRaven has posted a poem that really hits home. I'd love to post it here because it's so perfect for my own situation, but it's hers, so go read it, please. She said it so beautifully. Perfectly.
My "he" doesn't have the answers. Sometimes people just don't know why.
.
RussoRaven has posted a poem that really hits home. I'd love to post it here because it's so perfect for my own situation, but it's hers, so go read it, please. She said it so beautifully. Perfectly.
My "he" doesn't have the answers. Sometimes people just don't know why.
.
Monday, March 12, 2007
1159 Lost Day
Monday, March 12, 2007
Spent the entire day emailing file attachments to myself and setting up new folders on the laptop, in between restarting the Earthlink connection, that is.... It drops about every half hour.
Temp outside hit a high of 54, and the yard was full of turkeys. I sprinkled sunflower seeds for them.
.
Spent the entire day emailing file attachments to myself and setting up new folders on the laptop, in between restarting the Earthlink connection, that is.... It drops about every half hour.
Temp outside hit a high of 54, and the yard was full of turkeys. I sprinkled sunflower seeds for them.
.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
1158 Retest!
Having trouble getting used to the touchpad. I keep picking up the tv remote and running it over the desk, wondering why the cursor isn't moving....
1157 Yahoo Mail Explained
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Ok. Lots of other bloggers are having trouble with getting to their Yahoo mail. It's Yahoo's problem, not mine. Seems to be resolved now.
.
Ok. Lots of other bloggers are having trouble with getting to their Yahoo mail. It's Yahoo's problem, not mine. Seems to be resolved now.
.
1156 Death to Earthlink!
Sunday, March 11, 2007
I wrote the previous entry last night, but wasn't able to post it because either Blogger was down, or Earthlink refused to communicate with Blogger. Spellcheck not working was the first clue.
Earthlink has me tearing my hair out. I dialed in this afternoon at 1:19. So far, it has dropped the connection at 3:10, 3:28, 4:51, and 6:15. (It is now 6:34 pm). Mother is not happy.
For some reason, I can get to Yahoo.com, and it says I have five new items in my in-box, but I can't get to Yahoo mail. I tried three different browsers, and they all give me some blather about the page not supporting http protocols.
**** Ok, I just tried it, to get the exact text of the message, and this time it worked. Sigh.
I don't understand.
Um, is my keyboard supposed to be hot? It's quite warm on the right, over where I presume the battery is. I'm plugged in, not actually using the battery....
.
I wrote the previous entry last night, but wasn't able to post it because either Blogger was down, or Earthlink refused to communicate with Blogger. Spellcheck not working was the first clue.
Earthlink has me tearing my hair out. I dialed in this afternoon at 1:19. So far, it has dropped the connection at 3:10, 3:28, 4:51, and 6:15. (It is now 6:34 pm). Mother is not happy.
For some reason, I can get to Yahoo.com, and it says I have five new items in my in-box, but I can't get to Yahoo mail. I tried three different browsers, and they all give me some blather about the page not supporting http protocols.
**** Ok, I just tried it, to get the exact text of the message, and this time it worked. Sigh.
I don't understand.
Um, is my keyboard supposed to be hot? It's quite warm on the right, over where I presume the battery is. I'm plugged in, not actually using the battery....
.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
1155 Laptop Laments
Saturday, March 11, 2007
I like the touchpad, but I don't like the keyboard at all, especially the space bar, which requires pressing it below the level of the surround, which is already starting a callus on the side of my right thumb.
There's a potential problem with the touchpad - my nails grow very long very quickly, and the touchpad insists on skin, not nails. Either I'm going to have to trim my nails more often, or learn to arch my fingers funny.
After several days of no statistics, I gave up on SiteMeter, and just started a new account. The new one seems to be working, but oddly, it doesn't record my visits, even though I didn't turn that option off yet. Very strange.
I installed IrfanView. I don't know who's responsible, Internet Explorer or Windows Vista, but somebody wants to protect me too zealously, and I had to try three different sites before I was allowed to download the code. Annoying.
FireFox is next, later tonight. I can hardly wait.
Six free months of Earthlink (I'm still dialup, unfortunately) came with the system, so I planned to use that until I figured out what I want to move up to. The desktop has BiznessOnline, and I always thought that was slow and unreliable, but Earthlink seems much slower, and more unreliable. BiznessOnline drops the connection a few times a week. Earthlink drops it a few times an evening!
On the happier side, the browsers are solid, flash ads and fancy animation are no longer killing me. I haven't been able to do a search on eBay without hanging in almost two years. I can't wait to try it again.
Oops. Just tried Spellcheck, and got no response to clicking the button. Something's off.
.
I like the touchpad, but I don't like the keyboard at all, especially the space bar, which requires pressing it below the level of the surround, which is already starting a callus on the side of my right thumb.
There's a potential problem with the touchpad - my nails grow very long very quickly, and the touchpad insists on skin, not nails. Either I'm going to have to trim my nails more often, or learn to arch my fingers funny.
After several days of no statistics, I gave up on SiteMeter, and just started a new account. The new one seems to be working, but oddly, it doesn't record my visits, even though I didn't turn that option off yet. Very strange.
I installed IrfanView. I don't know who's responsible, Internet Explorer or Windows Vista, but somebody wants to protect me too zealously, and I had to try three different sites before I was allowed to download the code. Annoying.
FireFox is next, later tonight. I can hardly wait.
Six free months of Earthlink (I'm still dialup, unfortunately) came with the system, so I planned to use that until I figured out what I want to move up to. The desktop has BiznessOnline, and I always thought that was slow and unreliable, but Earthlink seems much slower, and more unreliable. BiznessOnline drops the connection a few times a week. Earthlink drops it a few times an evening!
On the happier side, the browsers are solid, flash ads and fancy animation are no longer killing me. I haven't been able to do a search on eBay without hanging in almost two years. I can't wait to try it again.
Oops. Just tried Spellcheck, and got no response to clicking the button. Something's off.
.
Friday, March 09, 2007
1154 Experts
Friday, March 9, 2007
Chris, over there at "Inane thoughts and insane ramblings", wrote about how "once a person deems themselves to have become an 'expert', he/she often assumes a position of arrogance", and what this sometimes (often!) leads to when it's in an online group.
Oh, my goodness yes! I've seen it. I haven't often been the recipient of flaming (although if I had written what I was actually thinking I might have been) because I usually lurk in new neighborhoods for a long time, finding out what the "rules" are, and who rules the roost, before I raise my head out of the foxhole. In most cases, once I get the lay of the land, I sneak out under cover of darkness and tiptoe away. It's a minefield out there.
In the past I have dropped in on online support groups and forums. There was a brain tumor forum, a long-term in-home caregiver forum, an Alzheimer's forum (when we were facing Jay's father's dementia), and a few bellydance forums, among others. In EVERY case, there was ONE person who seemed to be considered the doyen, the person who had all the answers, and who seemed to be constantly online. The expert.
They don't say "In my experience...", or "My opinion is...". It's always "This is so. Period." No, I'm not saying they have to qualify everything. You get it from the way they say it, they way they don't allow questioning or difference of opinion.
What's really weird is the way they acquire a following, sycophants, who worship the "expert", and will blister anyone who dares to contradict or question him or her.
When there's something I need to know about, I get into the research in a BIG way. A few days later, when I raise my head, I sometimes know more theory than professionals who have been in the field for years, because they know what they know, in the direction they're heading, but I now know what forty of their peers know, in multiple directions. And then I'm ready to talk with people with actual experience, to glean more, to ask about the conflicts and inconsistencies and holes and how it works "in the trenches" with real people, who are the real experts. Which is what got me to the forums.
Big mistake.
The Alzheimer's forum I visited was populated mostly by people who were lost and desperate for guidance. There was one woman who was obviously "The Expert", who doled out advice on everything. She was online 18 hours a day. She was often wrong. But woe be to any newcomer who questioned her pronouncements, "... but the doctor said...". The vicious wrath of her sycophants would descend. They'd point out her enormous experience in this area, her selfless willingness to be helpful.
No one was allowed to insult her by questioning her experience. She claimed to be the sole caregiver for her husband, who was in an advanced stage, with combativeness and wandering and incontinence - so howcum her sycophants didn't question her constant presence online? Especially when they themselves were doing the same thing for a loved one, and they could manage only a few minutes a day online? Is her husband tied to a chair all day?
I couldn't resist. I did question it. I retreated with my tail on fire.
I felt so sorry for those people who really did need expert help. Instead they got the pronouncement of some woman who just wanted to be the doyen, and got it simply by being the loudest and most constant voice. I suspect the Alzheimer's doyen had little or no direct experience with Alzheimer's, but was able to take over the forum simply by being able to be there full time. When you have an answer for every question, there are people out there who will think you're so wonderfully helpful, even though half your answers are bull poopy.
Chris commented on the arrogance of the "expert". I am amazed at the blind devotion of the sycophants.
I've noticed a similar phenomenon with "personal" bloggers whose life is a self-generated disaster. They attract a coterie of admirers who praise and flatter, believe the wildest stories and excuses, and will viciously attack any commenter who asks "Um, have you considered losing weight / getting a job / less partying more studying?" (Yeah, I admit I'm attracted to blogs that look like slow-motion train wrecks, but I don't praise the engineer.)
I don't understand.
(By the way, if you read Chis's piece, you'll notice a difference in our styles. He tends to be philosophical and objective. He's outside looking in. I get down dirty and personal. I'm inside fighting out.)
.
Chris, over there at "Inane thoughts and insane ramblings", wrote about how "once a person deems themselves to have become an 'expert', he/she often assumes a position of arrogance", and what this sometimes (often!) leads to when it's in an online group.
Oh, my goodness yes! I've seen it. I haven't often been the recipient of flaming (although if I had written what I was actually thinking I might have been) because I usually lurk in new neighborhoods for a long time, finding out what the "rules" are, and who rules the roost, before I raise my head out of the foxhole. In most cases, once I get the lay of the land, I sneak out under cover of darkness and tiptoe away. It's a minefield out there.
In the past I have dropped in on online support groups and forums. There was a brain tumor forum, a long-term in-home caregiver forum, an Alzheimer's forum (when we were facing Jay's father's dementia), and a few bellydance forums, among others. In EVERY case, there was ONE person who seemed to be considered the doyen, the person who had all the answers, and who seemed to be constantly online. The expert.
They don't say "In my experience...", or "My opinion is...". It's always "This is so. Period." No, I'm not saying they have to qualify everything. You get it from the way they say it, they way they don't allow questioning or difference of opinion.
What's really weird is the way they acquire a following, sycophants, who worship the "expert", and will blister anyone who dares to contradict or question him or her.
When there's something I need to know about, I get into the research in a BIG way. A few days later, when I raise my head, I sometimes know more theory than professionals who have been in the field for years, because they know what they know, in the direction they're heading, but I now know what forty of their peers know, in multiple directions. And then I'm ready to talk with people with actual experience, to glean more, to ask about the conflicts and inconsistencies and holes and how it works "in the trenches" with real people, who are the real experts. Which is what got me to the forums.
Big mistake.
The Alzheimer's forum I visited was populated mostly by people who were lost and desperate for guidance. There was one woman who was obviously "The Expert", who doled out advice on everything. She was online 18 hours a day. She was often wrong. But woe be to any newcomer who questioned her pronouncements, "... but the doctor said...". The vicious wrath of her sycophants would descend. They'd point out her enormous experience in this area, her selfless willingness to be helpful.
No one was allowed to insult her by questioning her experience. She claimed to be the sole caregiver for her husband, who was in an advanced stage, with combativeness and wandering and incontinence - so howcum her sycophants didn't question her constant presence online? Especially when they themselves were doing the same thing for a loved one, and they could manage only a few minutes a day online? Is her husband tied to a chair all day?
I couldn't resist. I did question it. I retreated with my tail on fire.
I felt so sorry for those people who really did need expert help. Instead they got the pronouncement of some woman who just wanted to be the doyen, and got it simply by being the loudest and most constant voice. I suspect the Alzheimer's doyen had little or no direct experience with Alzheimer's, but was able to take over the forum simply by being able to be there full time. When you have an answer for every question, there are people out there who will think you're so wonderfully helpful, even though half your answers are bull poopy.
Chris commented on the arrogance of the "expert". I am amazed at the blind devotion of the sycophants.
I've noticed a similar phenomenon with "personal" bloggers whose life is a self-generated disaster. They attract a coterie of admirers who praise and flatter, believe the wildest stories and excuses, and will viciously attack any commenter who asks "Um, have you considered losing weight / getting a job / less partying more studying?" (Yeah, I admit I'm attracted to blogs that look like slow-motion train wrecks, but I don't praise the engineer.)
I don't understand.
(By the way, if you read Chis's piece, you'll notice a difference in our styles. He tends to be philosophical and objective. He's outside looking in. I get down dirty and personal. I'm inside fighting out.)
.
1153 Cons3rvative Response to Wikipedia
Friday, March 9, 2007
[I've replaced some "e"s with "3"s again, to slow down random cons3rvative searchers.]
There's a blogger living a few miles from here who has found an interesting website, http://www.cons3rvapedia.com/Main_Page. It's a "cons3ervative alternative" to Wikipedia. His observations are at http://as3cular.com/index.php?070306.
Go read what he has to say about its founder, purpose, and worth. (His blog is safe. I can't, however, vouch for Cons3rvapedia, although I doubt you'd pick up any actual viruses there.).
[I've replaced some "e"s with "3"s again, to slow down random cons3rvative searchers.]
There's a blogger living a few miles from here who has found an interesting website, http://www.cons3rvapedia.com/Main_Page. It's a "cons3ervative alternative" to Wikipedia. His observations are at http://as3cular.com/index.php?070306.
Go read what he has to say about its founder, purpose, and worth. (His blog is safe. I can't, however, vouch for Cons3rvapedia, although I doubt you'd pick up any actual viruses there.).
1152 Bits
Friday, March 9, 2007
SiteMeter isn't working for me any more. It hasn't recorded any visits since 6 am Wednesday. I tested it by visiting the blog myself through Firefox and AOL, both of which will show up in the hit list, but no show even for those visits. I'm getting no updates at all. I logged in and out, checked the settings and account, everything I could think of, and it all looks good. Anyone else having any problem?
------------------------------------------
I ran errands yesterday, seven different stops, got a lot done. One of the stops was to the fuel oil bookkeeper. I prepay for my winter's fuel oil, which gets me a discounted price per gallon. I noticed that the previous delivery ticket said my credit balance after delivery was $416.74. Last week's delivery ticket said my starting credit was $173.51. Um, where'd the other $243.23 go?
They took the payment for my annual service contract out of my fuel oil credit. One of my stops earlier was to mail the check for the service contract, so she gave me credit for the double payment.
It annoys me that they debited my account for the service plan, without my permission. They've almost doubled the price since last year (but they cover more parts under the new plan), so there's another furnace service outfit that has been offering to take over service for less. I might have decided to switch to them. If I hadn't been vigilant, I could have been out the 200+ for a plan I didn't need, wouldn't have used, and didn't even know I had.
---------------------------------
I'm doing laundry today, and for the first time I'm grateful for my silty hard well water. With Daughter and Hercules looking for a house, I've been doing some research on communities in central NJ, and found something weird. Several communities have so much chlorine in the water that it's undrinkable unless it's left standing a while, and it bleaches laundry! Many people on town forums have complained about whole loads of dark clothes ruined.
Daughter is looking forward to having a washer down the hall, instead of having to go to the next block. I wonder how she'd feel about having to take dark loads to the next town!
----------------------------------
I read a bunch of stuff about the laptop yesterday, and I'm finding my way around it. It's getting easier.
I love the touch pad! You swoop the cursor around by sweeping your finger over the pad. The left and right mouse buttons are below it. Roman doesn't like it - he uses a wireless mouse at home and a minimouse (would that be a vole?) on the road.
One problem I had at first was that every once in a while, the system took off on its own, like I had clicked the left button or something. Roman laughed, he says that if you just tap the pad, that's a left click, and I must be accidentally tapping it, so he told me how to turn that off so you just use the buttons. But I'm having trouble dragging stuff because you have to hold the left button down with your thumb while moving the cursor on the pad with the other fingers. It's not too hard to drag up and down, but left to right is awkward.
In my reading last night I discovered that we've got "tap drag", too. If you tap the pad twice, it "grabs" whatever you're pointing at, and then you can swoop things around easily. Cool. So I turned tap back on. I like it! Scrolling is nifty, too. You just run your finger along the right side or bottom of the pad, and the page scrolls.
I don't know how on earth I'm going to get stuff moved from the old to the new system. Believe it or not, my biggest concern is bookmarks! I've got a gazillion of them, in AOL, Netscape, and Firefox, and I really hate the idea of starting all over. And the AOL saved mail. Don't know how to xfer that, either. I'm sure it's all in a folder somewhere, but I don't know where, what it's called. Searching for a phrase I know is in an email doesn't turn anything up.
.
SiteMeter isn't working for me any more. It hasn't recorded any visits since 6 am Wednesday. I tested it by visiting the blog myself through Firefox and AOL, both of which will show up in the hit list, but no show even for those visits. I'm getting no updates at all. I logged in and out, checked the settings and account, everything I could think of, and it all looks good. Anyone else having any problem?
------------------------------------------
I ran errands yesterday, seven different stops, got a lot done. One of the stops was to the fuel oil bookkeeper. I prepay for my winter's fuel oil, which gets me a discounted price per gallon. I noticed that the previous delivery ticket said my credit balance after delivery was $416.74. Last week's delivery ticket said my starting credit was $173.51. Um, where'd the other $243.23 go?
They took the payment for my annual service contract out of my fuel oil credit. One of my stops earlier was to mail the check for the service contract, so she gave me credit for the double payment.
It annoys me that they debited my account for the service plan, without my permission. They've almost doubled the price since last year (but they cover more parts under the new plan), so there's another furnace service outfit that has been offering to take over service for less. I might have decided to switch to them. If I hadn't been vigilant, I could have been out the 200+ for a plan I didn't need, wouldn't have used, and didn't even know I had.
---------------------------------
I'm doing laundry today, and for the first time I'm grateful for my silty hard well water. With Daughter and Hercules looking for a house, I've been doing some research on communities in central NJ, and found something weird. Several communities have so much chlorine in the water that it's undrinkable unless it's left standing a while, and it bleaches laundry! Many people on town forums have complained about whole loads of dark clothes ruined.
Daughter is looking forward to having a washer down the hall, instead of having to go to the next block. I wonder how she'd feel about having to take dark loads to the next town!
----------------------------------
I read a bunch of stuff about the laptop yesterday, and I'm finding my way around it. It's getting easier.
I love the touch pad! You swoop the cursor around by sweeping your finger over the pad. The left and right mouse buttons are below it. Roman doesn't like it - he uses a wireless mouse at home and a minimouse (would that be a vole?) on the road.
One problem I had at first was that every once in a while, the system took off on its own, like I had clicked the left button or something. Roman laughed, he says that if you just tap the pad, that's a left click, and I must be accidentally tapping it, so he told me how to turn that off so you just use the buttons. But I'm having trouble dragging stuff because you have to hold the left button down with your thumb while moving the cursor on the pad with the other fingers. It's not too hard to drag up and down, but left to right is awkward.
In my reading last night I discovered that we've got "tap drag", too. If you tap the pad twice, it "grabs" whatever you're pointing at, and then you can swoop things around easily. Cool. So I turned tap back on. I like it! Scrolling is nifty, too. You just run your finger along the right side or bottom of the pad, and the page scrolls.
I don't know how on earth I'm going to get stuff moved from the old to the new system. Believe it or not, my biggest concern is bookmarks! I've got a gazillion of them, in AOL, Netscape, and Firefox, and I really hate the idea of starting all over. And the AOL saved mail. Don't know how to xfer that, either. I'm sure it's all in a folder somewhere, but I don't know where, what it's called. Searching for a phrase I know is in an email doesn't turn anything up.
.
1151 Deer Roping
Friday, March 9, 2007
I got this from a joke site. Don't know who wrote it, but it tickled me because it is exactly what would happen if you rope a deer. Whoever wrote it must have had some experience. It is absolutely true that if a deer gets you down, it'll jump up and down on you. And they do bite. How do I know? Because a high school classmate did exactly what this guy tried (but not for venison, just for "fun"), with exactly the same results! (He should have known better.)
By the way, it may not be illegal to rope a deer, but it would be illegal to pen and keep it. You need a permit for that.
----------------------------------------------
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured since they congregated at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it shouldn't be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head to calm it down, then hog tie and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, who had seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.
After about 20 minutes the deer showed up - 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it, it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and received an education.
The first thing I learned is that while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope. That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and some dignity. A deer? Not a chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it.
As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I originally imagined. The only up side is that they do not have as much stamina as many animals. A brief 10 minutes later it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point I had lost my taste for corn fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of my rope. I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between that deer and me. At that moment, I hated the thing and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and several large knots I received when I cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks while it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize there might be a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn't want the deer to suffer a slow death so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand. Kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody so I was very surprised when I reached up to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head - almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts. The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It seemed like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds.
I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing up my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back legs and strike right about head and shoulder level with those surprisingly sharp hooves.
I learned a long time ago that when an animal like a horse strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape. This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and three times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.
Now when a deer paws at you and knocks you down it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are lying there crying like a little girl and covering your head. I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
Now for the local legend. I was pretty beat up. My scalp was split open, I had several large goose eggs, my wrist was bleeding pretty good and felt broken (it turned out to be just badly bruised) and my back was bleeding in a few places, though my insulated canvas jacket had protected me from most of the worst of it.
I drove to the nearest place, which was the co-op. I got out of the truck, covered in blood and dust . The guy who ran the place saw me through the window and came running out yelling "what happened". I have never seen any law in the state of Texas that would prohibit an individual from roping a deer. I suspect that this is an area they have overlooked entirely. Knowing, as I do, the lengths to which law enforcement personnel will go to exercise their power, I was concerned that they may find a way to twist the existing laws to paint my actions as criminal. I swear not wanting to admit that I had done something monumentally stupid played no part in my response. I told him "I was attacked by a deer."
I did not mention that at the time I had a rope on it. The evidence was all over my body. Deer prints on the back of my jacket where it had stomped all over me, and a large deer print on my face where it had struck me there. I asked him to call somebody to come get me. I didn't think I could make it home on my own. He did.
Later that afternoon, a game warden showed up at my house and wanted to know about the deer attack. Surprisingly, deer attacks are a rare thing and the warden was interested in the event. I tried to describe the attack as completely and accurately as I could. I was filling the grain hopper and this deer came out of nowhere and just started kicking the hell out of me and BIT me. It was obviously rabid or insane or something.
EVERYBODY for miles around knows about the deer attack (the guy at the co-op has a big mouth). For several weeks people dragged their kids in the house when they saw deer around and the local ranchers carried rifles when they filled their feeders. I have told several people the story, but NEVER anybody around here. I have to see these people every day and as an outsider - a "city folk" I have enough trouble fitting in without them snickering behind my back and whispering "there's the idiot that tried to rope a deer."
---------------------------------
My classmate could have written this.... "Cept it would have been Pennsylvania, not Texas. Question - Howcum the rope doesn't tighten and choke the beasty while it's dragging you?
.
I got this from a joke site. Don't know who wrote it, but it tickled me because it is exactly what would happen if you rope a deer. Whoever wrote it must have had some experience. It is absolutely true that if a deer gets you down, it'll jump up and down on you. And they do bite. How do I know? Because a high school classmate did exactly what this guy tried (but not for venison, just for "fun"), with exactly the same results! (He should have known better.)
By the way, it may not be illegal to rope a deer, but it would be illegal to pen and keep it. You need a permit for that.
----------------------------------------------
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured since they congregated at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it shouldn't be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head to calm it down, then hog tie and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, who had seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.
After about 20 minutes the deer showed up - 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it, it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and received an education.
The first thing I learned is that while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope. That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and some dignity. A deer? Not a chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it.
As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I originally imagined. The only up side is that they do not have as much stamina as many animals. A brief 10 minutes later it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point I had lost my taste for corn fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of my rope. I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between that deer and me. At that moment, I hated the thing and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and several large knots I received when I cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks while it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize there might be a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn't want the deer to suffer a slow death so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand. Kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody so I was very surprised when I reached up to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head - almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts. The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It seemed like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds.
I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing up my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back legs and strike right about head and shoulder level with those surprisingly sharp hooves.
I learned a long time ago that when an animal like a horse strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape. This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and three times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.
Now when a deer paws at you and knocks you down it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are lying there crying like a little girl and covering your head. I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
Now for the local legend. I was pretty beat up. My scalp was split open, I had several large goose eggs, my wrist was bleeding pretty good and felt broken (it turned out to be just badly bruised) and my back was bleeding in a few places, though my insulated canvas jacket had protected me from most of the worst of it.
I drove to the nearest place, which was the co-op. I got out of the truck, covered in blood and dust . The guy who ran the place saw me through the window and came running out yelling "what happened". I have never seen any law in the state of Texas that would prohibit an individual from roping a deer. I suspect that this is an area they have overlooked entirely. Knowing, as I do, the lengths to which law enforcement personnel will go to exercise their power, I was concerned that they may find a way to twist the existing laws to paint my actions as criminal. I swear not wanting to admit that I had done something monumentally stupid played no part in my response. I told him "I was attacked by a deer."
I did not mention that at the time I had a rope on it. The evidence was all over my body. Deer prints on the back of my jacket where it had stomped all over me, and a large deer print on my face where it had struck me there. I asked him to call somebody to come get me. I didn't think I could make it home on my own. He did.
Later that afternoon, a game warden showed up at my house and wanted to know about the deer attack. Surprisingly, deer attacks are a rare thing and the warden was interested in the event. I tried to describe the attack as completely and accurately as I could. I was filling the grain hopper and this deer came out of nowhere and just started kicking the hell out of me and BIT me. It was obviously rabid or insane or something.
EVERYBODY for miles around knows about the deer attack (the guy at the co-op has a big mouth). For several weeks people dragged their kids in the house when they saw deer around and the local ranchers carried rifles when they filled their feeders. I have told several people the story, but NEVER anybody around here. I have to see these people every day and as an outsider - a "city folk" I have enough trouble fitting in without them snickering behind my back and whispering "there's the idiot that tried to rope a deer."
---------------------------------
My classmate could have written this.... "Cept it would have been Pennsylvania, not Texas. Question - Howcum the rope doesn't tighten and choke the beasty while it's dragging you?
.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
1150 Laptop Has Arrived
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
The new laptop arrived this afternoon. I played with it for a while, and got pretty frustrated. It's a Dell Inspiron 1501, with Microsoft Windows Vista Home Premium, a 15.4 inch TrueLife Wide-screen WXGA, and 80GB hard drive. Or something.
There's absolutely no hardcopy documentation. I had to send an emergency email to Roman to ask how to open the CD/DVD tray. He walked me through a bunch of stuff by phone this evening.
I've been on Windows 98SE all this time, so I haven't made the stepwise transitions. I'm totally lost! Even the terminology is different. I can't find anything. Hey - who knew that on a laptop "Shutdown" is obsolete! Apparently it's there, but you don't need it, so it's hidden away in a dark place. I feel like the guy who complained that he couldn't find the "Any" key.
Tomorrow I'll read the softcopy documentation. I have to go to the museum tomorrow afternoon and take care of the membership renewals that have arrived since last week, so I'll stop in a bookstore and see if there's a Vista for Dummies book.
Daughter called. Her father (Ex#2) is home from the hospital, and already ignoring the diabetes diet. He has no feeling in his feet, one foot is purple, hands are numb. He hasn't "handled business" in ages, like for example his car hasn't been inspected, registered, or insured in two years. Daughter has some work ahead of her. The only good thing is that he isn't objecting to her plan to move him back east. She doesn't know where she'll PUT him, but, one step at a time....
I did go to the ballroom dance class this evening. There was a guy in the advanced class that meets before ours who stayed to assist with our class, so I had a really good partner.
.
The new laptop arrived this afternoon. I played with it for a while, and got pretty frustrated. It's a Dell Inspiron 1501, with Microsoft Windows Vista Home Premium, a 15.4 inch TrueLife Wide-screen WXGA, and 80GB hard drive. Or something.
There's absolutely no hardcopy documentation. I had to send an emergency email to Roman to ask how to open the CD/DVD tray. He walked me through a bunch of stuff by phone this evening.
I've been on Windows 98SE all this time, so I haven't made the stepwise transitions. I'm totally lost! Even the terminology is different. I can't find anything. Hey - who knew that on a laptop "Shutdown" is obsolete! Apparently it's there, but you don't need it, so it's hidden away in a dark place. I feel like the guy who complained that he couldn't find the "Any" key.
Tomorrow I'll read the softcopy documentation. I have to go to the museum tomorrow afternoon and take care of the membership renewals that have arrived since last week, so I'll stop in a bookstore and see if there's a Vista for Dummies book.
Daughter called. Her father (Ex#2) is home from the hospital, and already ignoring the diabetes diet. He has no feeling in his feet, one foot is purple, hands are numb. He hasn't "handled business" in ages, like for example his car hasn't been inspected, registered, or insured in two years. Daughter has some work ahead of her. The only good thing is that he isn't objecting to her plan to move him back east. She doesn't know where she'll PUT him, but, one step at a time....
I did go to the ballroom dance class this evening. There was a guy in the advanced class that meets before ours who stayed to assist with our class, so I had a really good partner.
.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
1149 The Rest of the Weekend
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
So, the gathering was over at about noon on Sunday, and I headed over to Daughter and Hercules's apartment, which was only about 15 minutes away. Hercules was just returning from a run. Daughter was still at her conference. Hercules and I were going to go geocaching, but I fell asleep on the couch while he was taking a shower, and he didn't wake me until Daughter got home. Then we all three went geocaching.
It was an easy one, rather obviously hidden in a little-old-lady-friendly area, but it was fun anyway.
I'm going to buy myself a hiking GPS just like the one I got for Hercules, and start doing it myself around here.
Daughter is taking the next two weeks off (or however long it takes) to go to Colorado and attempt to drag her father back east. She got a call from his neighbor over the weekend while she was at her conference that he had fallen and couldn't get up, and he was taken to the hospital - for the third time in two months. It's now uncontrolled diabetes. He is simply incapable of taking care of himself.
She flew out yesterday and I haven't heard from her since. I called Hercules this evening and left a voice mail, if he'd heard from her, please fill me in. I don't know what advice I could give her. His sisters won't want him, and he can't stay with her and Hercules. He's got plenty of money, and the kids are looking for a house, so maybe he could buy a mother-daughter (father-daughter?) duplex for the three of them. (A fortune teller long ago said that *I* would end up living with him again, but I really don't see that happening!)
She talked to a social worker at the hospital on Sunday evening while I was there. She wanted to make sure that the hospital didn't discharge him before she got there. I could hear the woman clearly (Daughter's cell is very loud), and it sounded like she started out saying something like that there was no chance he'd be discharged anytime soon, and then she realized that maybe over the phone she should be a bit more circumspect and back off to "there are no discharge orders in the works". So, he may be worse off than Daughter expects. I wouldn't be surprised if his kidneys are failing.
He's only six weeks older than I. But he's been working on dying for as long as I've known him.
.
So, the gathering was over at about noon on Sunday, and I headed over to Daughter and Hercules's apartment, which was only about 15 minutes away. Hercules was just returning from a run. Daughter was still at her conference. Hercules and I were going to go geocaching, but I fell asleep on the couch while he was taking a shower, and he didn't wake me until Daughter got home. Then we all three went geocaching.
It was an easy one, rather obviously hidden in a little-old-lady-friendly area, but it was fun anyway.
I'm going to buy myself a hiking GPS just like the one I got for Hercules, and start doing it myself around here.
Daughter is taking the next two weeks off (or however long it takes) to go to Colorado and attempt to drag her father back east. She got a call from his neighbor over the weekend while she was at her conference that he had fallen and couldn't get up, and he was taken to the hospital - for the third time in two months. It's now uncontrolled diabetes. He is simply incapable of taking care of himself.
She flew out yesterday and I haven't heard from her since. I called Hercules this evening and left a voice mail, if he'd heard from her, please fill me in. I don't know what advice I could give her. His sisters won't want him, and he can't stay with her and Hercules. He's got plenty of money, and the kids are looking for a house, so maybe he could buy a mother-daughter (father-daughter?) duplex for the three of them. (A fortune teller long ago said that *I* would end up living with him again, but I really don't see that happening!)
She talked to a social worker at the hospital on Sunday evening while I was there. She wanted to make sure that the hospital didn't discharge him before she got there. I could hear the woman clearly (Daughter's cell is very loud), and it sounded like she started out saying something like that there was no chance he'd be discharged anytime soon, and then she realized that maybe over the phone she should be a bit more circumspect and back off to "there are no discharge orders in the works". So, he may be worse off than Daughter expects. I wouldn't be surprised if his kidneys are failing.
He's only six weeks older than I. But he's been working on dying for as long as I've known him.
.
1148 Small World, continued
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
I bought a dark chocolate muffin/cupcake yesterday, lit a candle in it, sang Happy Birthday (55th) to Jay, and then ate half of it. I use the same candle every year, a little yellow and white one. In the past six years it has burned down only 1/8 inch. I'd like to scatter the other half of the muffin for the birds and chipmunks, that would seem appropriate, but I don't think chocolate is good for anyone but people. And maybe bears.
Which reminds me, "men live like bears with furniture." Don't know where that came from, but I like it and just thought I'd throw it out here.
Most couples have a song. For some reason, I have animals. With Obie and me it was hound dogs, with Jay and me it was polar bears, with Roman, it's penguins, and so on. The animal always seemed to have something to do with an early date, but when I think back, the animal always actually had something to do with the guy and the relationship. I guess that's why the animal stuck.
----------------------------------------------
Well, back to the weekend.
The Saturday night dance, with a DJ, started at 9:30. Hercules and I sat at a large table near the side wall with a couple I'd met the evening before, Razor (in his 40s, I think, another computer professional) and his lady. Razor and Hercules hit it right off - they had the same taste in music, and the DJ played right right up their alley. They talked about what they liked and what they hated, and they matched perfectly. The two of them got all excited. Hercules is a bit hyper, and when the right music played, he'd stand next to the table and dance. By the end of the evening, he and Razor were both standing on opposite sides of the table dancing up a storm, challenging each other. The next day, I pointed out to Hercules that they were dancing with each other! "The table between you made it ok, huh?" Hercules was shocked that I'd even suggest such a thing....
(Somewhere in there was dessert in the hospitality room (a dozen varieties of ice cream and toppings, and every kind of pie ever made), and at midnight there was chocolate fondue, with fruit and marshmallows for dipping. Hercules dipped Oreo cookies. Sugar makes him bounce off walls.)
At one point I left the dance for a few minutes. When I got back, Hercules was sopping wet. Something got played that neither of them could resist, and they got out on the dance floor. I didn't find out what happened until the next morning. More later.
Anyway, at one point Razor said that he liked Barenaked Ladies, and then he turned to his lady and said "That's the cruise I was on in January". I whooped and said "I know of someone else who was on that cruise! A blogger in the St. Louis area!" (unless there was more than one BNL cruise in January). I tried to describe the other couple, but I had only first names (of which I wasn't sure anyway) and only the most superficial of physical descriptions (I didn't mention the Brazilian connection). It didn't spark any "Oh, yeah"s, but he said if they had met at all, they'd remember him. "I was the only Black guy on the cruise." He's also big into karaoke, so ya'll might have seen him there. I said I'd check, and let him know if the twain had met. Comments? Recollections? Anything anybody might want me to tell him?
He said he was in the naked photo, so I scarfed it off the other blog and attempted to enlarge it with Irfan, but it got too fuzzy to see anyone. I found a few dark blobs, but they could have been just bearded faces. He said that they were told to drop their robes on signal, and that was ok. The awkward part was afterward, when they had to bend over to pick them up, "being packed together so tight and all". He had to time it right to avoid the backside of the guy in front of him.
So, that was Saturday night.
Sunday morning at breakfast in the hospitality room, the whole room was abuzz - "Did you see that guy on the dance floor last night? Wow! He was incredible!" "He was breakdancing or something, and he'd go right down on his back on the floor, and he went like this with his legs (diving motion of the hand) and he came right straight up standing on his feet! Never saw anything like it!" "Who was he? I've never seen him before." "Silk, I saw you talking with him. Do you know him?"
I was very tempted to say "Know him? I took him back to my room last night. He agreed that the bed was too soft."
But, that's how rumors get started and reputations get ruined, so I didn't. I just said he's my son-in-law. He followed my daughter home one day and I said she could keep him. People were impressed.
-----------------------------------
The weekend's men:
The 42-year-old who monopolized my Saturday night at the Boston gathering was there. We talked a few times. I suspect he's still interested in some way, or I could spark it with no effort, but I'm having some trouble figuring him out.
The Un3xploded Cow was there, sans udders. There were two women chasing him around, and I'm not sure he's my type anyway, so I spoke with him only a few times. At one point there was a hug, and I did something very bad. His shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down, and that's about where my nose came to, and I discovered he has exactly the kind of "standing-out" furry front that I like, and I pulled his shirt more open and nuzzled my nose in the fur, "Oooo, furry. I like furry." That was Sunday morning. It'll give him something to think about between now and the next gathering (there's Toronto in April, and Maryland in May).
I met someone new, I'll call him Steve. He's a bit taller than I like, but nice looking. I walked up to him in the hospitality room when Hercules arrived and we couldn't find anyone to register him, and Steve looked like someone who might be in charge and could tell us what to do. He said nobody would care if Hercules wasn't registered, and if anyone did, send them to him. In the ensuing conversation, it was made clear that he was not involved with anyone, that he was familiar with the area where I lived and was considering buying a summer place up here, and he mentioned that Mensans eat so much because "we're not getting any sex". In case I didn't catch it the first time, he repeated it. And then something similar a bit later. Even Hercules said "He was coming on to you! Big time!" I mildly flirted back Sunday at breakfast, when it was safer. I'll do some research on him between now and the next gathering.
There was another man I fell instantly in lust with, a Paul Newman clone, but I like his wife. Sigh. I felt like telling her that if she ever decided she wanted a divorce, she should call me, and I'd make it easy for her.
I panted a little at Razor, too. A little too young, a little too tall, and a little too into popular music, but very smart and very nice to look at.
And that was the gathering.
.
I bought a dark chocolate muffin/cupcake yesterday, lit a candle in it, sang Happy Birthday (55th) to Jay, and then ate half of it. I use the same candle every year, a little yellow and white one. In the past six years it has burned down only 1/8 inch. I'd like to scatter the other half of the muffin for the birds and chipmunks, that would seem appropriate, but I don't think chocolate is good for anyone but people. And maybe bears.
Which reminds me, "men live like bears with furniture." Don't know where that came from, but I like it and just thought I'd throw it out here.
Most couples have a song. For some reason, I have animals. With Obie and me it was hound dogs, with Jay and me it was polar bears, with Roman, it's penguins, and so on. The animal always seemed to have something to do with an early date, but when I think back, the animal always actually had something to do with the guy and the relationship. I guess that's why the animal stuck.
----------------------------------------------
Well, back to the weekend.
The Saturday night dance, with a DJ, started at 9:30. Hercules and I sat at a large table near the side wall with a couple I'd met the evening before, Razor (in his 40s, I think, another computer professional) and his lady. Razor and Hercules hit it right off - they had the same taste in music, and the DJ played right right up their alley. They talked about what they liked and what they hated, and they matched perfectly. The two of them got all excited. Hercules is a bit hyper, and when the right music played, he'd stand next to the table and dance. By the end of the evening, he and Razor were both standing on opposite sides of the table dancing up a storm, challenging each other. The next day, I pointed out to Hercules that they were dancing with each other! "The table between you made it ok, huh?" Hercules was shocked that I'd even suggest such a thing....
(Somewhere in there was dessert in the hospitality room (a dozen varieties of ice cream and toppings, and every kind of pie ever made), and at midnight there was chocolate fondue, with fruit and marshmallows for dipping. Hercules dipped Oreo cookies. Sugar makes him bounce off walls.)
At one point I left the dance for a few minutes. When I got back, Hercules was sopping wet. Something got played that neither of them could resist, and they got out on the dance floor. I didn't find out what happened until the next morning. More later.
Anyway, at one point Razor said that he liked Barenaked Ladies, and then he turned to his lady and said "That's the cruise I was on in January". I whooped and said "I know of someone else who was on that cruise! A blogger in the St. Louis area!" (unless there was more than one BNL cruise in January). I tried to describe the other couple, but I had only first names (of which I wasn't sure anyway) and only the most superficial of physical descriptions (I didn't mention the Brazilian connection). It didn't spark any "Oh, yeah"s, but he said if they had met at all, they'd remember him. "I was the only Black guy on the cruise." He's also big into karaoke, so ya'll might have seen him there. I said I'd check, and let him know if the twain had met. Comments? Recollections? Anything anybody might want me to tell him?
He said he was in the naked photo, so I scarfed it off the other blog and attempted to enlarge it with Irfan, but it got too fuzzy to see anyone. I found a few dark blobs, but they could have been just bearded faces. He said that they were told to drop their robes on signal, and that was ok. The awkward part was afterward, when they had to bend over to pick them up, "being packed together so tight and all". He had to time it right to avoid the backside of the guy in front of him.
So, that was Saturday night.
Sunday morning at breakfast in the hospitality room, the whole room was abuzz - "Did you see that guy on the dance floor last night? Wow! He was incredible!" "He was breakdancing or something, and he'd go right down on his back on the floor, and he went like this with his legs (diving motion of the hand) and he came right straight up standing on his feet! Never saw anything like it!" "Who was he? I've never seen him before." "Silk, I saw you talking with him. Do you know him?"
I was very tempted to say "Know him? I took him back to my room last night. He agreed that the bed was too soft."
But, that's how rumors get started and reputations get ruined, so I didn't. I just said he's my son-in-law. He followed my daughter home one day and I said she could keep him. People were impressed.
-----------------------------------
The weekend's men:
The 42-year-old who monopolized my Saturday night at the Boston gathering was there. We talked a few times. I suspect he's still interested in some way, or I could spark it with no effort, but I'm having some trouble figuring him out.
The Un3xploded Cow was there, sans udders. There were two women chasing him around, and I'm not sure he's my type anyway, so I spoke with him only a few times. At one point there was a hug, and I did something very bad. His shirt was unbuttoned about halfway down, and that's about where my nose came to, and I discovered he has exactly the kind of "standing-out" furry front that I like, and I pulled his shirt more open and nuzzled my nose in the fur, "Oooo, furry. I like furry." That was Sunday morning. It'll give him something to think about between now and the next gathering (there's Toronto in April, and Maryland in May).
I met someone new, I'll call him Steve. He's a bit taller than I like, but nice looking. I walked up to him in the hospitality room when Hercules arrived and we couldn't find anyone to register him, and Steve looked like someone who might be in charge and could tell us what to do. He said nobody would care if Hercules wasn't registered, and if anyone did, send them to him. In the ensuing conversation, it was made clear that he was not involved with anyone, that he was familiar with the area where I lived and was considering buying a summer place up here, and he mentioned that Mensans eat so much because "we're not getting any sex". In case I didn't catch it the first time, he repeated it. And then something similar a bit later. Even Hercules said "He was coming on to you! Big time!" I mildly flirted back Sunday at breakfast, when it was safer. I'll do some research on him between now and the next gathering.
There was another man I fell instantly in lust with, a Paul Newman clone, but I like his wife. Sigh. I felt like telling her that if she ever decided she wanted a divorce, she should call me, and I'd make it easy for her.
I panted a little at Razor, too. A little too young, a little too tall, and a little too into popular music, but very smart and very nice to look at.
And that was the gathering.
.
Monday, March 05, 2007
1147 Small World
Monday, March 05, 2007
[Later edit - I remembered the name of the religion with the eternal flame - the Zoroastrians. See http://webzc.com/webzc.com/about.htm for a description of Zoroastrianism. It resonates with me in several ways (though not in others).]
In my usual time-unconscious way, I headed out Friday just in time to get to the Garden State Parkway at the beginning of rush hour. On a Friday. But it wasn't too bad, and I made it to the gathering hotel in enough time to register, sign in at the Mensa desk (I was a little embarrassed all weekend by my name tag - the woman at the desk had been into the wine, I guess, and tried to get fancy with "Silk", and it was almost unreadable), and meet a NJ blogger at 6 pm for dinner.
I'd been reading this lady's blog for several months. Her blog is full of atmosphere - she manages to convey mood even when she's writing about, oh, stop signs. I already knew a bit about her daily life, but I found I knew nothing about her. I expected a rather shy, quiet, perhaps indecisive, "gray" personality. Nope. She's decisive, open, confident, even a little imposing in appearance. She'd been kicked around in the past, but I think she's finding her strength now. I'm so happy to have met her. I needed a reminder that reading a blog is not "knowing" a person.
After all the advice I had got when I was planning to go to Manhattan for Roman's parents' memorial service, I vowed to go to NYC on my own this summer. I may now have someone to meet there.
The first Mensa sessions (monster trivia, a talk on lunar eclipses, and a talk on total wellness - pick one) were at 8 pm, but we were having such an interesting dinner, I blew it off. After dinner I went to the hospitality room, and found subs and all kinds of drinks and yummies, and lots of interesting people. There were 200+ attendees. I think I've about convinced half of them it's time to retire. I was also surprised that about half the people there are "in computers", and of those, half work for (or worked for) The Company. Most are now contractors.
I ran into one of the guys I had been playing trivia with, who had moved to Chicago. Another of our Mid-Hudson members moved to Chicago a few months ago, and I asked him if he had seen her at any Mensa event there, and he said no, but that he was surprised to run into her at a store downtown. In Chicago. Neat, huh?
Saturday breakfast in the hospitality room started at 6 am. I was up until 1, so there was no way I was going to make that. Last year, Roman was disappointed because by the time we made it to breakfast, all the lox were gone. Lots of bagels, but no lox. (I had never had bagels with lox and cream cheese, so a few weeks later, he introduced me at breakfast at his house. His were better ... ) I got downstairs at 7:15, and there was still lox. I wandered by at 10:45, and there were STILL lox! (Were? Was? Is lox plural?)
See, Roman? You should have been there. I called him and left a message to that effect.
At 9 I attended a talk and slide show by a woman who goes on archaeological tours. This one was on Iran, her latest trip. We've all heard of the Persian empire, and Alexander the Great, and the Hittites, and all that, but it hadn't occurred to me that Iran is full of ruins, just like Greece and Italy, and that you can, like, touch a door frame that Alexander had likely touched. I like connections like that. A lot of the "ruins" seemed fresher and in better condition than many younger ones I had seen in Europe. She says that Iran is tolerant of other religions. There's a Zoroastrian temple where there is an eternal flame, apricot wood and sandalwood in a bowl, that the priests have kept burning for 2000 years (actually, the number was "since 400", but I can't remember whether it was BC or AD).
At 10:30 a guy compared Tim Burton's movie Mars Attacks with Dante's Divine Comedy, showing the parallels in punishment and reward. The talk was all about the similarity between the two, but that wasn't the real point (which many attendees seemed to miss), which was that you can take any two things, and if you can find a few descriptors in common between them, you can build on them to make it sound like they are exactly the same. The talk was tongue-in-cheek, but some people missed that. Maybe because the two things he chose were very parallel - or maybe he was just good enough at it that he even convinced me, who was aware what he was doing. I wonder if he has any good deals on any bridges....
At noon, they brought in a few hundred pizzas.
I skipped the 1 pm program choices (there were multiple choices in each time slot) as none excited me, and I wanted to meet more people in the hospitality room.
At 2:30 I attended a synopsis of the Cosmology Colloquium held in Albany last fall. The subject was mostly what was before the "big bang", black holes and how they form, dark matter, etc., and the search for what really "fills" space.
At 4 there was a hilarious pun-filled rather naughty performance of the Pungo Players - a "Camelot"-themed musical playlet named "Mensalot", followed by a hotel-catered buffet dinner.
Then of course we all watched the lunar eclipse.
Son-in-law Hercules arrived at about 6. Daughter was attending a weekend Montessori conference in the city, so I had invited Hercules to join me. All the Mensa attendees wore a name tag that allowed them into the programs and hospitality foods, so I took him to the Mensa registration desk to get him a temporary badge, but there was no one there. Undeterred, he folded a piece of paper to the proper size and faked himself one. (People laughed because he had carefully copied, in black pen, the pink spoon sticker on my badge. The spoon was to indicate that I had paid for the dinner buffet.)
I introduced him around (Look what my daughter brought home for me!), and then we went to the 7 pm keynote talk, given by George Musser, a Scientific American editor, on what discoveries he expects will be made in fundamental physics and cosmology in the next ten years. (The particles are getting tinier and tinier, and Hercules and I both believe there is no upper or lower limit in size. When they finally detect what they now theorize are the tiniest particles, I'll bet they'll find hints of tinier. Ho hum.)
At 9:30 we went to the dance. The next morning, everybody at breakfast was taking about Hercules. He shook the place up. Next entry.
[Much later edit - this is the night I first met The Man.]
.
[Later edit - I remembered the name of the religion with the eternal flame - the Zoroastrians. See http://webzc.com/webzc.com/about.htm for a description of Zoroastrianism. It resonates with me in several ways (though not in others).]
In my usual time-unconscious way, I headed out Friday just in time to get to the Garden State Parkway at the beginning of rush hour. On a Friday. But it wasn't too bad, and I made it to the gathering hotel in enough time to register, sign in at the Mensa desk (I was a little embarrassed all weekend by my name tag - the woman at the desk had been into the wine, I guess, and tried to get fancy with "Silk", and it was almost unreadable), and meet a NJ blogger at 6 pm for dinner.
I'd been reading this lady's blog for several months. Her blog is full of atmosphere - she manages to convey mood even when she's writing about, oh, stop signs. I already knew a bit about her daily life, but I found I knew nothing about her. I expected a rather shy, quiet, perhaps indecisive, "gray" personality. Nope. She's decisive, open, confident, even a little imposing in appearance. She'd been kicked around in the past, but I think she's finding her strength now. I'm so happy to have met her. I needed a reminder that reading a blog is not "knowing" a person.
After all the advice I had got when I was planning to go to Manhattan for Roman's parents' memorial service, I vowed to go to NYC on my own this summer. I may now have someone to meet there.
The first Mensa sessions (monster trivia, a talk on lunar eclipses, and a talk on total wellness - pick one) were at 8 pm, but we were having such an interesting dinner, I blew it off. After dinner I went to the hospitality room, and found subs and all kinds of drinks and yummies, and lots of interesting people. There were 200+ attendees. I think I've about convinced half of them it's time to retire. I was also surprised that about half the people there are "in computers", and of those, half work for (or worked for) The Company. Most are now contractors.
I ran into one of the guys I had been playing trivia with, who had moved to Chicago. Another of our Mid-Hudson members moved to Chicago a few months ago, and I asked him if he had seen her at any Mensa event there, and he said no, but that he was surprised to run into her at a store downtown. In Chicago. Neat, huh?
Saturday breakfast in the hospitality room started at 6 am. I was up until 1, so there was no way I was going to make that. Last year, Roman was disappointed because by the time we made it to breakfast, all the lox were gone. Lots of bagels, but no lox. (I had never had bagels with lox and cream cheese, so a few weeks later, he introduced me at breakfast at his house. His were better ... ) I got downstairs at 7:15, and there was still lox. I wandered by at 10:45, and there were STILL lox! (Were? Was? Is lox plural?)
See, Roman? You should have been there. I called him and left a message to that effect.
At 9 I attended a talk and slide show by a woman who goes on archaeological tours. This one was on Iran, her latest trip. We've all heard of the Persian empire, and Alexander the Great, and the Hittites, and all that, but it hadn't occurred to me that Iran is full of ruins, just like Greece and Italy, and that you can, like, touch a door frame that Alexander had likely touched. I like connections like that. A lot of the "ruins" seemed fresher and in better condition than many younger ones I had seen in Europe. She says that Iran is tolerant of other religions. There's a Zoroastrian temple where there is an eternal flame, apricot wood and sandalwood in a bowl, that the priests have kept burning for 2000 years (actually, the number was "since 400", but I can't remember whether it was BC or AD).
At 10:30 a guy compared Tim Burton's movie Mars Attacks with Dante's Divine Comedy, showing the parallels in punishment and reward. The talk was all about the similarity between the two, but that wasn't the real point (which many attendees seemed to miss), which was that you can take any two things, and if you can find a few descriptors in common between them, you can build on them to make it sound like they are exactly the same. The talk was tongue-in-cheek, but some people missed that. Maybe because the two things he chose were very parallel - or maybe he was just good enough at it that he even convinced me, who was aware what he was doing. I wonder if he has any good deals on any bridges....
At noon, they brought in a few hundred pizzas.
I skipped the 1 pm program choices (there were multiple choices in each time slot) as none excited me, and I wanted to meet more people in the hospitality room.
At 2:30 I attended a synopsis of the Cosmology Colloquium held in Albany last fall. The subject was mostly what was before the "big bang", black holes and how they form, dark matter, etc., and the search for what really "fills" space.
At 4 there was a hilarious pun-filled rather naughty performance of the Pungo Players - a "Camelot"-themed musical playlet named "Mensalot", followed by a hotel-catered buffet dinner.
Then of course we all watched the lunar eclipse.
Son-in-law Hercules arrived at about 6. Daughter was attending a weekend Montessori conference in the city, so I had invited Hercules to join me. All the Mensa attendees wore a name tag that allowed them into the programs and hospitality foods, so I took him to the Mensa registration desk to get him a temporary badge, but there was no one there. Undeterred, he folded a piece of paper to the proper size and faked himself one. (People laughed because he had carefully copied, in black pen, the pink spoon sticker on my badge. The spoon was to indicate that I had paid for the dinner buffet.)
I introduced him around (Look what my daughter brought home for me!), and then we went to the 7 pm keynote talk, given by George Musser, a Scientific American editor, on what discoveries he expects will be made in fundamental physics and cosmology in the next ten years. (The particles are getting tinier and tinier, and Hercules and I both believe there is no upper or lower limit in size. When they finally detect what they now theorize are the tiniest particles, I'll bet they'll find hints of tinier. Ho hum.)
At 9:30 we went to the dance. The next morning, everybody at breakfast was taking about Hercules. He shook the place up. Next entry.
[Much later edit - this is the night I first met The Man.]
.
1146 I'm Back
Monday, March 05, 2006
It was an interesting weekend. I got home a little after midnight last night, and I've been trying to catch up all day.
I have to get my check for registration for the Maryland and Metropolitan Washington gathering in May into the mail by 5 pm to qualify for the vast discount offered to this weekend's attendees. And today is Jay's 55th birthday, so I have to find either a fudge brownie or a piece of death-by-chocolate cake to stick a candle into, and eat for him. He was a chocoholic, so even though I ate so much junk the past three days that I have to swear off food for the next week, I'll make an exception today.
Note - never ever attempt to skewer an Oreo cookie and dip it into chocolate fondue. Well, ok, you can dip it, but don't eat it. That's real death by chocolate.
Back later.
.
It was an interesting weekend. I got home a little after midnight last night, and I've been trying to catch up all day.
I have to get my check for registration for the Maryland and Metropolitan Washington gathering in May into the mail by 5 pm to qualify for the vast discount offered to this weekend's attendees. And today is Jay's 55th birthday, so I have to find either a fudge brownie or a piece of death-by-chocolate cake to stick a candle into, and eat for him. He was a chocoholic, so even though I ate so much junk the past three days that I have to swear off food for the next week, I'll make an exception today.
Note - never ever attempt to skewer an Oreo cookie and dip it into chocolate fondue. Well, ok, you can dip it, but don't eat it. That's real death by chocolate.
Back later.
.
Friday, March 02, 2007
1145 I'm Off
Friday, March 2, 2007
The weather isn't as bad as promised. It was freezing rain early this morning, but it changed to plain rain, and all the ice quickly disappeared from the vehicles and the driveway, so the drive to NJ shouldn't be too hairy.
Back Sunday.
Until then, The Hunk and The Beast are in charge.
The weather isn't as bad as promised. It was freezing rain early this morning, but it changed to plain rain, and all the ice quickly disappeared from the vehicles and the driveway, so the drive to NJ shouldn't be too hairy.
Back Sunday.
Until then, The Hunk and The Beast are in charge.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
1144 Duh?
Thursday, March 1, 2007
I was standing to the right of the television set in the kitchen. There was a reporter on, and behind her, on the left side of the screen, I could see the first few words of a sign. I wondered what the sign said, so I moved to the left so I could look behind her.
Duh....
I got no sleep last night. I think it's time to go to bed.
Tomorrow I drive to Iselin, NJ, to attend a weekend NJ Mensa gathering. The prediction is snow, sleet, freezing rain, rain. Oh, joy. I'm going anyway.
.
I was standing to the right of the television set in the kitchen. There was a reporter on, and behind her, on the left side of the screen, I could see the first few words of a sign. I wondered what the sign said, so I moved to the left so I could look behind her.
Duh....
I got no sleep last night. I think it's time to go to bed.
Tomorrow I drive to Iselin, NJ, to attend a weekend NJ Mensa gathering. The prediction is snow, sleet, freezing rain, rain. Oh, joy. I'm going anyway.
.
1143 No Fire
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Yesterday and today.
I got up early yesterday, Wednesday, got dressed, and got a good start on the tax docs, spreading papers all over my bed. I would have to leave the house at a bit after noon to go to the Maritime Museum to learn more about handling membership, and then I had the ballroom dance class that evening.
At just about noon, I got a call from Roman. He was calling from work, on his lunch hour, to tell me that Angie was putting together a group for dinner that evening, at an Indian restaurant. She had put a notice on the local Mensa Yahoo group, and since I hadn't responded, he figured I hadn't seen it. He said he'd like to see me there. I thought of the dance class, and without hesitation I said yes, I'd be at dinner. I'm such a sucker for being wanted. Especially since I had been so rough on him the last time I'd seen him, at the Third Thursday dinner.
Roman had a few months ago agreed to help me find the perfect laptop configuration, at the perfect price, so he went on to say that he had found a good deal for me, and had sent me an email with the details. Since I wouldn't have time to look at it before leaving for the museum, I suggested that he bring a printout to dinner and we'd talk about it there.
Four hours at the museum. The woman who had handled the membership procedures (renewal reminders, receiving checks, corporate matching grants, thank you letters with membership card and goodies, etc.) is quitting like immediately, so I'd better understand it all.
There were four of us at dinner, and it was nice. Afterward, Roman and I sat in his car, and he showed me what he recommended I get on the laptop. There were a lot of choices of features, and he had a good grasp of the kinds of things I do. I'd have to go to a website to make my choices and place my order, and the sale ended this morning. I asked if the website had fancy flash stuff, because if it did, it might take my browser down and I might not be able to do it in time. So we went to his house, and built and ordered my laptop there.
This is the first time I'd been there since, well, "the last time", in July. I thought it was safe.
I don't think either of us is entirely sure what happened, but I ended up spending the night. At the end of placing the order, I turned to him and smiled, and he kissed me, and my mind stopped working. I think he really did want me, until he got me, and then it was like "uh oh, what do I do with her now?" In the morning, he apologized for leading me on. For my part, I was aware he wasn't entirely "there". No fire. I learned something. I'm not sure what just yet, but something.
So this morning when I arrived home, I picked up where I had left off on the taxes. I was missing only one 1099-DIV, but I was able to reconstruct it from the last dividend stub (a piece of luck - last year I was missing five, and couldn't find the stubs). I was missing one sale-of-stock 1099, but that happened to be the one Piper had sold for me because it was certificates, not book-entry, so he had a copy (which, by the way, was the "disappeared" 992 shares of Wells Fargo - mystery solved). And I was missing a local tax receipt, but I have the check. Given that there are about 70 pieces of paper altogether, this is pretty good.
No fire there, either
I put everything in manila envelopes by category, and I took it all to Piper. He'll give it to The Angel, who will do my taxes. The two of them will then figure out how much stock I can sell this year without "going into another bracket". (Do brackets even apply when it's capital gains?)
My process this year was very simple. I put a box next to the desk, and anytime anything financial-related or tax-related arrived, I put it in the box instead of filing it. It worked quite well. Now I can file everything left in the box. I think I'll simplify that, too. I'll just file it all under "Financial 2006".
.
Yesterday and today.
I got up early yesterday, Wednesday, got dressed, and got a good start on the tax docs, spreading papers all over my bed. I would have to leave the house at a bit after noon to go to the Maritime Museum to learn more about handling membership, and then I had the ballroom dance class that evening.
At just about noon, I got a call from Roman. He was calling from work, on his lunch hour, to tell me that Angie was putting together a group for dinner that evening, at an Indian restaurant. She had put a notice on the local Mensa Yahoo group, and since I hadn't responded, he figured I hadn't seen it. He said he'd like to see me there. I thought of the dance class, and without hesitation I said yes, I'd be at dinner. I'm such a sucker for being wanted. Especially since I had been so rough on him the last time I'd seen him, at the Third Thursday dinner.
Roman had a few months ago agreed to help me find the perfect laptop configuration, at the perfect price, so he went on to say that he had found a good deal for me, and had sent me an email with the details. Since I wouldn't have time to look at it before leaving for the museum, I suggested that he bring a printout to dinner and we'd talk about it there.
Four hours at the museum. The woman who had handled the membership procedures (renewal reminders, receiving checks, corporate matching grants, thank you letters with membership card and goodies, etc.) is quitting like immediately, so I'd better understand it all.
There were four of us at dinner, and it was nice. Afterward, Roman and I sat in his car, and he showed me what he recommended I get on the laptop. There were a lot of choices of features, and he had a good grasp of the kinds of things I do. I'd have to go to a website to make my choices and place my order, and the sale ended this morning. I asked if the website had fancy flash stuff, because if it did, it might take my browser down and I might not be able to do it in time. So we went to his house, and built and ordered my laptop there.
This is the first time I'd been there since, well, "the last time", in July. I thought it was safe.
I don't think either of us is entirely sure what happened, but I ended up spending the night. At the end of placing the order, I turned to him and smiled, and he kissed me, and my mind stopped working. I think he really did want me, until he got me, and then it was like "uh oh, what do I do with her now?" In the morning, he apologized for leading me on. For my part, I was aware he wasn't entirely "there". No fire. I learned something. I'm not sure what just yet, but something.
So this morning when I arrived home, I picked up where I had left off on the taxes. I was missing only one 1099-DIV, but I was able to reconstruct it from the last dividend stub (a piece of luck - last year I was missing five, and couldn't find the stubs). I was missing one sale-of-stock 1099, but that happened to be the one Piper had sold for me because it was certificates, not book-entry, so he had a copy (which, by the way, was the "disappeared" 992 shares of Wells Fargo - mystery solved). And I was missing a local tax receipt, but I have the check. Given that there are about 70 pieces of paper altogether, this is pretty good.
No fire there, either
I put everything in manila envelopes by category, and I took it all to Piper. He'll give it to The Angel, who will do my taxes. The two of them will then figure out how much stock I can sell this year without "going into another bracket". (Do brackets even apply when it's capital gains?)
My process this year was very simple. I put a box next to the desk, and anytime anything financial-related or tax-related arrived, I put it in the box instead of filing it. It worked quite well. Now I can file everything left in the box. I think I'll simplify that, too. I'll just file it all under "Financial 2006".
.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
1142 Fortunate Frustration
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
I spent a very frustrating afternoon and evening trying to sell stock. I've got stock in about 14 remaining companies that I have to sell so Piper can move it into bonds and mutual funds. Some of it is piddling little stuff like 3 shares of Avaya (a spinoff from some other stock), and 4 shares of IDEARC (a spinoff from Verizon), and I don't even know what IDEARC is.
The stock is all "book entry", and I thought I had online accounts with the various transfer agents. But the last time I dealt with most of them was in 2002, and every single company has, in the meantime, changed agents. I had to track down the new folks. To register with them, you have to do the SS# bit and all that, and then they'll send a confirmation number by snail mail, which you then have to use to get to the account.
On the other hand, you can call their phone number and sell the stock with nothing but the social security number.
I gave up on the online idea. I now have to wait until Thursday to make some calls (busy tomorrow).
It turns out this is good. The market crashed and burned today. It was the deepest drop since 9/11/01, and I didn't find that out until the 11 o'clock news. If I hadn't had all that trouble finding out who and how, I'd have really messed me over. I'm not selling anything now for a while.
I did manage to get to one account, and I'm worried. I should have a decent block of Wells Fargo, but when I got through to my account with their transfer agent, the account shows "number of shares = 0". Huh? If they think the account is abandoned (which can happen if they've got the wrong address and mail is returned to them), they'll turn the stock over to the state. So I went to the state unclaimed funds site, and I'm not listed there at all. Where did that stock go? Did that get sold last spring and I forgot to note it? This is why I hate book entry. I like having certificates in my hand.
It is now midnight, and I'm not going to sleep until I have the tax stuff together. It's going to be a long night.
.
I spent a very frustrating afternoon and evening trying to sell stock. I've got stock in about 14 remaining companies that I have to sell so Piper can move it into bonds and mutual funds. Some of it is piddling little stuff like 3 shares of Avaya (a spinoff from some other stock), and 4 shares of IDEARC (a spinoff from Verizon), and I don't even know what IDEARC is.
The stock is all "book entry", and I thought I had online accounts with the various transfer agents. But the last time I dealt with most of them was in 2002, and every single company has, in the meantime, changed agents. I had to track down the new folks. To register with them, you have to do the SS# bit and all that, and then they'll send a confirmation number by snail mail, which you then have to use to get to the account.
On the other hand, you can call their phone number and sell the stock with nothing but the social security number.
I gave up on the online idea. I now have to wait until Thursday to make some calls (busy tomorrow).
It turns out this is good. The market crashed and burned today. It was the deepest drop since 9/11/01, and I didn't find that out until the 11 o'clock news. If I hadn't had all that trouble finding out who and how, I'd have really messed me over. I'm not selling anything now for a while.
I did manage to get to one account, and I'm worried. I should have a decent block of Wells Fargo, but when I got through to my account with their transfer agent, the account shows "number of shares = 0". Huh? If they think the account is abandoned (which can happen if they've got the wrong address and mail is returned to them), they'll turn the stock over to the state. So I went to the state unclaimed funds site, and I'm not listed there at all. Where did that stock go? Did that get sold last spring and I forgot to note it? This is why I hate book entry. I like having certificates in my hand.
It is now midnight, and I'm not going to sleep until I have the tax stuff together. It's going to be a long night.
.
1141 Overheard...
...on Frasier: "Unattractive? Let's put it this way - years of chewing tobacco has discolored her tooth."
1140 Spam
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Last night I went to Remax.com to look at the listing for the house Daughter and Hercules are interested in, and had to register on the site to see the details. During registration, one is told that by registering, one agrees to receive email from agents. Ok, an occasional email won't be too bad.
Ten hours later, I had received five different sales pitches from the agent showing that house.
I unregistered.
Idiots!
.
Last night I went to Remax.com to look at the listing for the house Daughter and Hercules are interested in, and had to register on the site to see the details. During registration, one is told that by registering, one agrees to receive email from agents. Ok, an occasional email won't be too bad.
Ten hours later, I had received five different sales pitches from the agent showing that house.
I unregistered.
Idiots!
.
Monday, February 26, 2007
1139 More Snow
Monday, February 26, 2007
I cleared the driveway this afternoon. Then it started snowing again - tiny flakes, gently. I checked the TV weather reports, the weather radio, channel 10 online weather alerts (they brag that they are specific to my mailbox!), and AOL. They all say it will snow off and on all night, but the total accumulation should be less than an inch. I've got over two inches out there now (11:20 pm). We've got the rest of the night to go.
I don't understand.
------------------------------------
The IGA didn't have any cracked corn left, so I bought a bag of sunflower seeds. If the turkeys don't like that, I'll try the Agway for corn tomorrow. I like to keep the wild turkey population high and close because they eat ticks. Anything that eats ticks is worth encouraging. Even if they do wake me up too early.
------------------------------------
Several other bloggers, women only a little younger than I, are all excited about rock concerts, and agonizing about feeling "too old" to go to them. I think maybe I've always been too old.
FirstWoman was very into the music scene in NYC in the late '60s and the '70s, and she asked me the other night if I was familiar with this or that musician. I explained that back then, I was being indoctrinated into The Company, learning how to wear three piece suits and parrot the line. It was a whole different scene.
When Daughter was about fifteen (and I was about 46), she went to her first big concert, held in like a stadium near the city or whatever. Afterward, she asked if I had ever been to a rock concert, and I said, "Well, no, not like yours. In my day, they didn't do these huge things where you can't see and can't hear. It was always in small clubs, or small theaters, or at colleges."
"Well, (condescendingly), did you ever go to any of them?"
"Yeah. A few."
"Anyone I'd recognize?"
"I think you'll recognize one. It was in 1968, a small room in the Armory in Kingston, maybe 200 people. I was in the third or fourth row. Folding chairs set up on the floor, close to a very small very low stage."
"Well, who was it?"
(...drum roll, please ...)
"Jimmi Hendrix."
"Wow!" She was very impressed. Even a little jealous. Suddenly her mother's "cool factor" shot way up, and even more when I admitted that "Yes, he did destroy a guitar. A piece flew right past my head."
(I was equally impressed that she knew who Jimmi Hendrix was!)
I saw Herbie Hancock at about the same time, at the performing arts center, but she didn't know who he was. And a bunch of well known folk singers, which were more my style anyway, but who were unknown to Daughter.
--------------------------------------------
You know, if Jimmi were still alive and still performing, she wouldn't have been so impressed. I guess it's better to have seen a legend than an institution, and better to be an institution than a legend.
.
I cleared the driveway this afternoon. Then it started snowing again - tiny flakes, gently. I checked the TV weather reports, the weather radio, channel 10 online weather alerts (they brag that they are specific to my mailbox!), and AOL. They all say it will snow off and on all night, but the total accumulation should be less than an inch. I've got over two inches out there now (11:20 pm). We've got the rest of the night to go.
I don't understand.
------------------------------------
The IGA didn't have any cracked corn left, so I bought a bag of sunflower seeds. If the turkeys don't like that, I'll try the Agway for corn tomorrow. I like to keep the wild turkey population high and close because they eat ticks. Anything that eats ticks is worth encouraging. Even if they do wake me up too early.
------------------------------------
Several other bloggers, women only a little younger than I, are all excited about rock concerts, and agonizing about feeling "too old" to go to them. I think maybe I've always been too old.
FirstWoman was very into the music scene in NYC in the late '60s and the '70s, and she asked me the other night if I was familiar with this or that musician. I explained that back then, I was being indoctrinated into The Company, learning how to wear three piece suits and parrot the line. It was a whole different scene.
When Daughter was about fifteen (and I was about 46), she went to her first big concert, held in like a stadium near the city or whatever. Afterward, she asked if I had ever been to a rock concert, and I said, "Well, no, not like yours. In my day, they didn't do these huge things where you can't see and can't hear. It was always in small clubs, or small theaters, or at colleges."
"Well, (condescendingly), did you ever go to any of them?"
"Yeah. A few."
"Anyone I'd recognize?"
"I think you'll recognize one. It was in 1968, a small room in the Armory in Kingston, maybe 200 people. I was in the third or fourth row. Folding chairs set up on the floor, close to a very small very low stage."
"Well, who was it?"
(...drum roll, please ...)
"Jimmi Hendrix."
"Wow!" She was very impressed. Even a little jealous. Suddenly her mother's "cool factor" shot way up, and even more when I admitted that "Yes, he did destroy a guitar. A piece flew right past my head."
(I was equally impressed that she knew who Jimmi Hendrix was!)
I saw Herbie Hancock at about the same time, at the performing arts center, but she didn't know who he was. And a bunch of well known folk singers, which were more my style anyway, but who were unknown to Daughter.
--------------------------------------------
You know, if Jimmi were still alive and still performing, she wouldn't have been so impressed. I guess it's better to have seen a legend than an institution, and better to be an institution than a legend.
.
1138 Piper's Foot
Monday, February 26, 2007
Got a call from Piper, "Got the tax stuff together?" Aaagh! He's giving me 'til Wednesday, then he's getting tough.
He broke his left foot. Badly. He's in a big cast, crutches, can't drive. His vehicles are both standard, and he can't use the clutch. His lady and Vinnie are driving him around. I told him he could call on me, too.
Since the call, I got an idea. My Aerio is automatic. He's got a cute little VW beetle. Since I know how he drives, I might want to think about it a little more, but maybe we could trade cars for the next six weeks. (He wanders all over the road, it's scary, and he brags that he can make it to East Fishkill in 40 minutes. That drive takes 55 minutes at the speed limit. On the other hand, he hasn't had any accidents.... I wonder what my legal/insurance exposure is if I lend him my car and something happens.)
.
Got a call from Piper, "Got the tax stuff together?" Aaagh! He's giving me 'til Wednesday, then he's getting tough.
He broke his left foot. Badly. He's in a big cast, crutches, can't drive. His vehicles are both standard, and he can't use the clutch. His lady and Vinnie are driving him around. I told him he could call on me, too.
Since the call, I got an idea. My Aerio is automatic. He's got a cute little VW beetle. Since I know how he drives, I might want to think about it a little more, but maybe we could trade cars for the next six weeks. (He wanders all over the road, it's scary, and he brags that he can make it to East Fishkill in 40 minutes. That drive takes 55 minutes at the speed limit. On the other hand, he hasn't had any accidents.... I wonder what my legal/insurance exposure is if I lend him my car and something happens.)
.
1137 Turkeys
Monday, February 26, 2007
We got four or five inches of snow overnight, and I was awakened early this morning by the turkeys. There are twenty or thirty wild turkeys in my front and side yard, and they've been there all morning. They are huge, footprints are almost as long as mine, and they are loud!
I think they may be eating the pits from the wild cherry trees in the side yard. Those pits are dangerous on the driveway - they're like ball bearings. By September it's easy to slide down the driveway on them. But I don't think there's many left by now.
I'll be going out to clear the snow in a few minutes, and that'll probably chase them away. As soon as I can get out, I think I'll go to the village and buy some cracked corn for them, spread it on the cleared driveway. I don't like hearing them at 7 am, but I like watching them, and I'm glad they're doing so well.
.
We got four or five inches of snow overnight, and I was awakened early this morning by the turkeys. There are twenty or thirty wild turkeys in my front and side yard, and they've been there all morning. They are huge, footprints are almost as long as mine, and they are loud!
I think they may be eating the pits from the wild cherry trees in the side yard. Those pits are dangerous on the driveway - they're like ball bearings. By September it's easy to slide down the driveway on them. But I don't think there's many left by now.
I'll be going out to clear the snow in a few minutes, and that'll probably chase them away. As soon as I can get out, I think I'll go to the village and buy some cracked corn for them, spread it on the cleared driveway. I don't like hearing them at 7 am, but I like watching them, and I'm glad they're doing so well.
.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
1136 Annoying Stock
Sunday, February 25, 2007
I canceled a planned outing with FirstWoman last night because I was tired, frustrated, and full of inertia. I just didn't want to make the effort. I canceled rollerskating with Angie this evening for the same reason.
I'm frustrated and feeling guilty because I've got so much to do, and it's not getting done. Every time I start something from the "to do" list, something happens and I get sidetracked.
This afternoon I decided I MUST start pulling together the tax stuff for The Angel, and start looking into selling more stock for Piper's planned portfolio balancing. The first thing I picked up from the financial bin was a proxy packet from my favorite stock.
This particular stock is one that I have told Piper I will not sell! No way! Not for nuthin! I like it! The stock has gone up steadily for the past six years - it is now worth more than five times what it was in 2000, and it pays good dividends. He agrees that I'd be crazy to sell it - in fact, I should buy more.
The company is being "acquired". A smaller company in the same industry is going to buy it out for 26 billion dollars. For each of our shares, we stockholders will get .67 share of the smaller company, and a bunch of cash.
I am being asked to vote my shares, for or against the acquisition.
Naturally, I need more info.
Three hours, and a trip around the internet, later, I voted a resounding NO!!! (Not that I have enough stock for them to notice....)
First of all, I will end up with 1/3 of my investment in equity, and 2/3 in cash on which I will have to pay capital gains tax. I would prefer a straight stock trade. Gimme a bunch of yours for all of mine. This deal amounts to selling 2/3 of a stock I never wanted to sell at all. I could turn around and buy more stock, but I'd still be out the tax.
Since the announcement, my company's stock has continued its rise, but the stock of the smaller company has fallen. Analysts seem to think that it is a "fair" offer to the stockholders, since .67 share of the smaller company plus the cash offered equals slightly higher than the current price of my company, BUT, and here's the scary part, most of them think that the smaller company is going to hurt themselves badly, that they really can't afford the 26 billion. So those ".67 share"s could be worth even less in the future, even though after the acquisition, it will be the largest company in the world in this industry. (A giant, but an injured giant.)
I am exceedingly annoyed.
That, The Amazing Race, and several phone calls, absorbed the afternoon and evening.
-----------------------------
Daughter and Hercules have been househunting in central NJ. Yesterday she said that they'd found the perfect house, and they had submitted an offer. The house had been on the market only one day. Today she called and said that someone else had submitted a bid, too, and it had apparently been accepted, even though their offer was probably higher. I wish I knew more about NJ real estate law, and how offers should be presented.
Emotional roller coaster for the kids. This is the second time that's happened to them in the past month.
I advised her to leave their offer "live" while they continue looking. The other buyers' deal may fall through. Besides, the real estate market is in decline, and in six months they may be able to get more house for the same money.
.
I canceled a planned outing with FirstWoman last night because I was tired, frustrated, and full of inertia. I just didn't want to make the effort. I canceled rollerskating with Angie this evening for the same reason.
I'm frustrated and feeling guilty because I've got so much to do, and it's not getting done. Every time I start something from the "to do" list, something happens and I get sidetracked.
This afternoon I decided I MUST start pulling together the tax stuff for The Angel, and start looking into selling more stock for Piper's planned portfolio balancing. The first thing I picked up from the financial bin was a proxy packet from my favorite stock.
This particular stock is one that I have told Piper I will not sell! No way! Not for nuthin! I like it! The stock has gone up steadily for the past six years - it is now worth more than five times what it was in 2000, and it pays good dividends. He agrees that I'd be crazy to sell it - in fact, I should buy more.
The company is being "acquired". A smaller company in the same industry is going to buy it out for 26 billion dollars. For each of our shares, we stockholders will get .67 share of the smaller company, and a bunch of cash.
I am being asked to vote my shares, for or against the acquisition.
Naturally, I need more info.
Three hours, and a trip around the internet, later, I voted a resounding NO!!! (Not that I have enough stock for them to notice....)
First of all, I will end up with 1/3 of my investment in equity, and 2/3 in cash on which I will have to pay capital gains tax. I would prefer a straight stock trade. Gimme a bunch of yours for all of mine. This deal amounts to selling 2/3 of a stock I never wanted to sell at all. I could turn around and buy more stock, but I'd still be out the tax.
Since the announcement, my company's stock has continued its rise, but the stock of the smaller company has fallen. Analysts seem to think that it is a "fair" offer to the stockholders, since .67 share of the smaller company plus the cash offered equals slightly higher than the current price of my company, BUT, and here's the scary part, most of them think that the smaller company is going to hurt themselves badly, that they really can't afford the 26 billion. So those ".67 share"s could be worth even less in the future, even though after the acquisition, it will be the largest company in the world in this industry. (A giant, but an injured giant.)
I am exceedingly annoyed.
That, The Amazing Race, and several phone calls, absorbed the afternoon and evening.
-----------------------------
Daughter and Hercules have been househunting in central NJ. Yesterday she said that they'd found the perfect house, and they had submitted an offer. The house had been on the market only one day. Today she called and said that someone else had submitted a bid, too, and it had apparently been accepted, even though their offer was probably higher. I wish I knew more about NJ real estate law, and how offers should be presented.
Emotional roller coaster for the kids. This is the second time that's happened to them in the past month.
I advised her to leave their offer "live" while they continue looking. The other buyers' deal may fall through. Besides, the real estate market is in decline, and in six months they may be able to get more house for the same money.
.
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