Just a few more things that don't make sense to me.
- Police checks
Every so often the state police set up road blocks to check for drunk drivers, seat belts, registration, whatever. And every time they do it, it's heavily advertised. TV, radio, newspaper, word of mouth, everyone knows they're doing it.
Um, why tell everyone? That will ensure that anyone with half a brain will have their seat belt on THAT DAY! And the idiots driving without a lisence won't be on the road THAT DAY! What about every other day? Wouldn't it make more sense to do it with a little bit of surprise?
- The lost whales
Re the mother whale and calf "stuck" in the river. They are both rather severely injured, having deep cuts from ship propellers. I think if I were a mother whale, and my calf had an open and bleeding wound, I'd look at the options, and might also want to take my chances in a river, where I'd have to live on my reserves for a bit (which I can do better if I'm undisturbed), rather than chance the open ocean, which is FULL OF SHARKS!
- Saving gas
The news programs are telling people that to increase their miles per gallon, they should forgo air conditioning.
But doesn't that mean they will be driving at high turnpike speeds with their windows open? Didn't the experts tell us that increases drag, and LOWERS THE MPG?
What's the trade off, the comparison?
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
1264 Plans & Posts
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
A friend (actually several) has suggested that perhaps I shouldn't blog (is that a verb?) about things I intend to do, places I plan to go, that I should wait until afterward to mention it, something about stalkers and naysayers and spoilsports and burglars and worry-worts and too-helpful people, and other blather. Sheesh.
I really don't think anyone who knows me is a problem, and I don't think anyone who doesn't know me could possibly be a real (as opposed to virtual) problem, but, well, ok.
So there may not be any posts for a few days, 'cause yeah, I've got plans. I'll still write them daily, I just won't "publish" them until later. No one will know what I'm up to until it's over, and then you'll be surprised at how ho-hum and inconsequental it all is.
Don't get all anticipatoryish.
Well, a tickler - the next few days involve spies.
.
A friend (actually several) has suggested that perhaps I shouldn't blog (is that a verb?) about things I intend to do, places I plan to go, that I should wait until afterward to mention it, something about stalkers and naysayers and spoilsports and burglars and worry-worts and too-helpful people, and other blather. Sheesh.
I really don't think anyone who knows me is a problem, and I don't think anyone who doesn't know me could possibly be a real (as opposed to virtual) problem, but, well, ok.
So there may not be any posts for a few days, 'cause yeah, I've got plans. I'll still write them daily, I just won't "publish" them until later. No one will know what I'm up to until it's over, and then you'll be surprised at how ho-hum and inconsequental it all is.
Don't get all anticipatoryish.
Well, a tickler - the next few days involve spies.
.
1263 Observation
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
I was proud of the spackling job I did Tuesday. I am proud of the wall I painted at the museum, a battered cracked damaged wall that now looks new and smooth. I'm proud of my needlework. I'm proud of the bookcases I designed and built. I'm proud of a bunch of things, and I don't feel at all sinful about feeling proud.
When I look back at all the things that have been most satisfying to me, all the things I'm proud of, they all have one thing in common:
They are all things I made with my hands or did with my body.
I'd been in the wrong profession all my life.
Plenty of time to start over.
.
I was proud of the spackling job I did Tuesday. I am proud of the wall I painted at the museum, a battered cracked damaged wall that now looks new and smooth. I'm proud of my needlework. I'm proud of the bookcases I designed and built. I'm proud of a bunch of things, and I don't feel at all sinful about feeling proud.
When I look back at all the things that have been most satisfying to me, all the things I'm proud of, they all have one thing in common:
They are all things I made with my hands or did with my body.
I'd been in the wrong profession all my life.
Plenty of time to start over.
.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
1262 Habitat
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
I went to the Habitat for Humanity house today. There was a man there, Charlie Somebody, who was "in charge", and two girls, I don't know what age, maybe even high school. Nobody else. Whoa! Nobody. Isn't there supposed to be a future homeowner doing sweat equity? Where are the other volunteers? Weren't there supposed to be lots of retired able-bodied men for me to meet?
I got the impression the girls were interning in construction or something. They were being paid a few dollars a day, and they got scheduled timed breaks, and went to "the center" (?) for lunch. They've been working on the house all along. They couldn't understand why I was doing this for free. Apparently volunteers are rare.
I got assigned to spackle the upstairs bathroom.
I had a short stepladder, a cordless drill with a Phillips screwdriver bit, and the spackle and tools. The sheetrock job was BAD! Huge gaps, holes, screws sticking out all over, edges that don't seem to be in the same plane, wavy corners. The sheets had been badly cut, and badly sized - one sheet would be screwed straight into the joist, and the next missed the joist so the screws were at a 45 degree angle to catch the joist. One of the girls told me about the guy who did it, "That's his business. He does sheetrock all the time." I didn't say it, but my thought was that if anyone did that to MY bathroom, we'd be in small claims court discussing the fact that I refuse to pay him. Frankly, I could do it better myself (except maybe for the ceiling). At least I'd know enough to put shims on the joists to line up the surface.
So, anyway, I had to work with what existed. The first thing I had to do was tighten down all the screws so that the heads were slightly below the surface. Sounded easy, what with the power screwdriver.
Not easy.
Bathroom sheetrock is not the same as in other rooms. Most of the walls and the ceiling had a very hard green stuff (the inside of it was not the softish chalky stuff I'm used to, it was very hard, you couldn't even scratch it), and around the tub it was a beige-gray, which was filled with CONCRETE!
I tried to tighten the screws down, and even leaning my shoulder into the drill, the bit just went bump-bump-bump in the grooves of the screw heads, threatening to strip them. I finally figured out that what I had to do was back out the screw, and then wiggle it around in the opening to chew a hole big enough to accept the head. Then I could put the screw back in, and it would tighten into below the surface.
When it came to the concrete stuff, there was no way. The Charlie guy said he'd bring in a concrete bit tomorrow to cut an inset (there's a name for that, but I forget) so the screws could be tightened in.
The screws alone took hours, and the cordless drill was heavy, especially when doing the ceiling. Corded drills are so much lighter! My right shoulder aches.
I like spackling. I'm also very good at it. One of the first things I learned about spackling is that the worst, ickiest, nastiest, dirtiest, hardest part is sanding it when it's dry, and then cleaning up the dust from the sanding. Plus, sanding roughs up the paper around the spackled spots. So I spackle so neatly that it needs almost no sanding. My spackled spots look sanded! I do three thin coats, the first to fill the hole, the second to fill after shrinkage, and the third to feather. It's important to use the full surface of the knife very flat against the wall. I use a damp finger to smooth any tiny rough spots. When you lay your head against a wall I've spackled and look across, you won't see any bumps or high spots.
I'm rather proud of the job I did today.
.
I went to the Habitat for Humanity house today. There was a man there, Charlie Somebody, who was "in charge", and two girls, I don't know what age, maybe even high school. Nobody else. Whoa! Nobody. Isn't there supposed to be a future homeowner doing sweat equity? Where are the other volunteers? Weren't there supposed to be lots of retired able-bodied men for me to meet?
I got the impression the girls were interning in construction or something. They were being paid a few dollars a day, and they got scheduled timed breaks, and went to "the center" (?) for lunch. They've been working on the house all along. They couldn't understand why I was doing this for free. Apparently volunteers are rare.
I got assigned to spackle the upstairs bathroom.
I had a short stepladder, a cordless drill with a Phillips screwdriver bit, and the spackle and tools. The sheetrock job was BAD! Huge gaps, holes, screws sticking out all over, edges that don't seem to be in the same plane, wavy corners. The sheets had been badly cut, and badly sized - one sheet would be screwed straight into the joist, and the next missed the joist so the screws were at a 45 degree angle to catch the joist. One of the girls told me about the guy who did it, "That's his business. He does sheetrock all the time." I didn't say it, but my thought was that if anyone did that to MY bathroom, we'd be in small claims court discussing the fact that I refuse to pay him. Frankly, I could do it better myself (except maybe for the ceiling). At least I'd know enough to put shims on the joists to line up the surface.
So, anyway, I had to work with what existed. The first thing I had to do was tighten down all the screws so that the heads were slightly below the surface. Sounded easy, what with the power screwdriver.
Not easy.
Bathroom sheetrock is not the same as in other rooms. Most of the walls and the ceiling had a very hard green stuff (the inside of it was not the softish chalky stuff I'm used to, it was very hard, you couldn't even scratch it), and around the tub it was a beige-gray, which was filled with CONCRETE!
I tried to tighten the screws down, and even leaning my shoulder into the drill, the bit just went bump-bump-bump in the grooves of the screw heads, threatening to strip them. I finally figured out that what I had to do was back out the screw, and then wiggle it around in the opening to chew a hole big enough to accept the head. Then I could put the screw back in, and it would tighten into below the surface.
When it came to the concrete stuff, there was no way. The Charlie guy said he'd bring in a concrete bit tomorrow to cut an inset (there's a name for that, but I forget) so the screws could be tightened in.
The screws alone took hours, and the cordless drill was heavy, especially when doing the ceiling. Corded drills are so much lighter! My right shoulder aches.
I like spackling. I'm also very good at it. One of the first things I learned about spackling is that the worst, ickiest, nastiest, dirtiest, hardest part is sanding it when it's dry, and then cleaning up the dust from the sanding. Plus, sanding roughs up the paper around the spackled spots. So I spackle so neatly that it needs almost no sanding. My spackled spots look sanded! I do three thin coats, the first to fill the hole, the second to fill after shrinkage, and the third to feather. It's important to use the full surface of the knife very flat against the wall. I use a damp finger to smooth any tiny rough spots. When you lay your head against a wall I've spackled and look across, you won't see any bumps or high spots.
I'm rather proud of the job I did today.
.
Monday, May 21, 2007
1261 Truth 2
Monday, May 21, 2007
Well, I puttered around on the internet, looking for some insight on American philosophical thoughts on truth.
I dropped in on Philosophical Pragmatism and Philosophical Pragmaticism, cringed and pulled out. That's still the murky semantic circle-jerk I remember from college philosophy.
Besides, I'm not interested in the definition of truth. I am fully aware from my court and family mediation experiences that two people can see the same object or situation, and their truthful descriptions will differ drastically. The "real" truth will probably lie between, but the version they tell IS the "real" truth for each of them, because they believe it. I'm not interested in understanding people who tell their truths as they believe it. That's nice plain ordinary folks.
What I'm curious about is people who will tell as truth something they know is not "true", but will justify it in some way as virtuous, as being what works for the greater good. Who not only reject the truth as inconvenient, but as less virtuous. I want that justification. I want to know what goes on in their minds. Pure Pragmatism doesn't do it. I want to see how they twist pragmatism.
Wandering around a bit more, I found this short but interesting essay on the irrelevance of truth: http://www.lewrockwell.com/hein/hein150.html.
In the way that one topic leads to another and one internet link leads to another, I wandered off into discussions of situation ethics, which led to Karma, which led to Tantra, which led to this: http://billyblob.com/cartoons/, the most fun. I figured that was a good place to stop.
So, I didn't find my answer, but the impetus is gone, and I don't much care any more.
Go visit BillyBlob. It's short cartoon movies, very well done. Click on the boxes on the top.
.
Well, I puttered around on the internet, looking for some insight on American philosophical thoughts on truth.
I dropped in on Philosophical Pragmatism and Philosophical Pragmaticism, cringed and pulled out. That's still the murky semantic circle-jerk I remember from college philosophy.
Besides, I'm not interested in the definition of truth. I am fully aware from my court and family mediation experiences that two people can see the same object or situation, and their truthful descriptions will differ drastically. The "real" truth will probably lie between, but the version they tell IS the "real" truth for each of them, because they believe it. I'm not interested in understanding people who tell their truths as they believe it. That's nice plain ordinary folks.
What I'm curious about is people who will tell as truth something they know is not "true", but will justify it in some way as virtuous, as being what works for the greater good. Who not only reject the truth as inconvenient, but as less virtuous. I want that justification. I want to know what goes on in their minds. Pure Pragmatism doesn't do it. I want to see how they twist pragmatism.
Wandering around a bit more, I found this short but interesting essay on the irrelevance of truth: http://www.lewrockwell.com/hein/hein150.html.
In the way that one topic leads to another and one internet link leads to another, I wandered off into discussions of situation ethics, which led to Karma, which led to Tantra, which led to this: http://billyblob.com/cartoons/, the most fun. I figured that was a good place to stop.
So, I didn't find my answer, but the impetus is gone, and I don't much care any more.
Go visit BillyBlob. It's short cartoon movies, very well done. Click on the boxes on the top.
.
1260 Truth
Monday, May 21, 2007
Harvey Cormier was on some tv show this morning, and he mentioned his book, The Truth Is What Works. He described it as American philosophy, mentioned that more people should read American philosophy.
The title is confusing. Is the implication that ultimately only the truth works, or that "truth" is defined as "that which works"?
Troubling. I know people who believe the second interpretation. I try to avoid involvement with those people. Our government and politicians seem to believe it.
This goes on my "find out about it" list. Find and read a review or synopsis of the book. What is the current "American philosophy" take on truth? Find discussions.
.
Harvey Cormier was on some tv show this morning, and he mentioned his book, The Truth Is What Works. He described it as American philosophy, mentioned that more people should read American philosophy.
The title is confusing. Is the implication that ultimately only the truth works, or that "truth" is defined as "that which works"?
Troubling. I know people who believe the second interpretation. I try to avoid involvement with those people. Our government and politicians seem to believe it.
This goes on my "find out about it" list. Find and read a review or synopsis of the book. What is the current "American philosophy" take on truth? Find discussions.
.
1259 More Manhattan Meanders
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Today I met a Fellow Blogger in Manhattan. We had munchies in a deli, and visited the Museum of Modern Art.
That was funny.
We both said "I don't get it" a lot, and the final straw came when we stood in front of a small piece of ordinary graph paper glued to a sheet of plain white paper, framed, and hanging on the wall as "art". We looked at each other ... and raced each other to the nearest exit.
We had more fun in the museum shops, that one and the folk art shop next door.
I got to see Rockefeller Center (that hole in the ground looks bigger on tv), a big gingerbread cathedral where something significant was going on, and Madison Square Garden (which is round), and we visited the wonderful chocolate shop, where the hot chocolate is thick and rich and makes life worth living.
I walked with FB to Penn Station at about 5 pm, and then I headed back to Grand Central Terminal all by myself.
I found out that if you saunter at exactly the right slow speed, you can hit every crosswalk on "walk".
It started raining, but I had an umbrella, and the drizzle didn't last long. I found the NYC Library, and walked around two sides, but didn't see anything that looked like a welcoming door, and didn't find the lions. Wrong sides, I guess. I would have liked to have gone in. My right hip was getting tired, so I figured I ought to keep moving GCT-ward. I wandered around in Bryant Park, which is very pretty, with lots of tables and chairs, (and free WiFI), and I got to Grand Central 2 minutes after the hourly train to Poughkeepsie left.
That's ok - that gave me an hour to visit shops in the terminal. Some of them are really nice. I could have spent more time there. I bought a tiny "keychain" digital camera (pink!) for a few dollars in the Discovery store. I hope it takes decent pictures.
The train going home was actually crowded. I got home at 9:30 pm.
.
Today I met a Fellow Blogger in Manhattan. We had munchies in a deli, and visited the Museum of Modern Art.
That was funny.
We both said "I don't get it" a lot, and the final straw came when we stood in front of a small piece of ordinary graph paper glued to a sheet of plain white paper, framed, and hanging on the wall as "art". We looked at each other ... and raced each other to the nearest exit.
We had more fun in the museum shops, that one and the folk art shop next door.
I got to see Rockefeller Center (that hole in the ground looks bigger on tv), a big gingerbread cathedral where something significant was going on, and Madison Square Garden (which is round), and we visited the wonderful chocolate shop, where the hot chocolate is thick and rich and makes life worth living.
I walked with FB to Penn Station at about 5 pm, and then I headed back to Grand Central Terminal all by myself.
I found out that if you saunter at exactly the right slow speed, you can hit every crosswalk on "walk".
It started raining, but I had an umbrella, and the drizzle didn't last long. I found the NYC Library, and walked around two sides, but didn't see anything that looked like a welcoming door, and didn't find the lions. Wrong sides, I guess. I would have liked to have gone in. My right hip was getting tired, so I figured I ought to keep moving GCT-ward. I wandered around in Bryant Park, which is very pretty, with lots of tables and chairs, (and free WiFI), and I got to Grand Central 2 minutes after the hourly train to Poughkeepsie left.
That's ok - that gave me an hour to visit shops in the terminal. Some of them are really nice. I could have spent more time there. I bought a tiny "keychain" digital camera (pink!) for a few dollars in the Discovery store. I hope it takes decent pictures.
The train going home was actually crowded. I got home at 9:30 pm.
.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
1258 Gamelan
Saturday, May 19, 2007
[Later edit - fixed post number. Ignore.]
I'm still proud of me. I attacked the pile of paper on the desk in the living room, the desk where I drop "to do" mail as it comes in, and there wasn't a single thing there that had to be handled. Whoop! Usually there's at least one overdue bill in the heap.
FirstW and I went to dinner tonight at the Madaline in Tivoli. The food was terrific. Get the eggplant appetizer! Expensive, though. We both had a drink and an appetizer, and I had an entree and she had a dessert and coffee, and with tip it came to $90.
After dinner we went to a gamelan concert at Bard, where we ran into Les at the entrance. He was there alone, so we sat him between us and soaked him for information. The concert was interesting. Twenty players, and they explained the instruments, the method of playing them, and the format of the compositions. Some of the music seemed a lot like change ringing (which I love). Some of it sounded like a family reunion, with the kids on the left (the tenor section), the adults on the right (the base section), and the complaining mother-in-law (the conductor's drum) in the middle.
"Gamelan" does not refer to the instruments. It's what the ensemble of instruments is called, and the style of music. Once an ensemble is put together, the individual instruments cannot be simply shifted to another ensemble, because the instruments are all tuned to be played together. Within the major ensemble, the instruments are in pairs, male and female, to be played together, and they complement each other.
Most Gamelan comes from Java or Bali. What we saw and heard tonight is Balinese.
The audience was very small. We three may have been the only people there who weren't related in some way to a player.
After the concert I led FirstW back to the bridge, went home, pulled into my driveway, looked at the passenger seat, saw a bag there, wondered what it was, "Is that something I should take into the house?", and then I shouted "OH NO!" FirstW and I would have been about 15 miles apart by then with the river between us, but she might have heard me. She should have heard me.
I've owed her some CDs for weeks now. Every time I've seen her, the disks made it closer to the door, but not out the door. Last Thursday they made it into my car, but she didn't go to the dinner. Tonight they were in my car, but ... they didn't make it to her car.
Sheesh.
I'm taking the train into Manhattan tomorrow, to meet a fellow Blogger for some favorite places (and favorite chocolate, maybe). The time is getting away from me again, and I don't want to oversleep.
.
[Later edit - fixed post number. Ignore.]
I'm still proud of me. I attacked the pile of paper on the desk in the living room, the desk where I drop "to do" mail as it comes in, and there wasn't a single thing there that had to be handled. Whoop! Usually there's at least one overdue bill in the heap.
FirstW and I went to dinner tonight at the Madaline in Tivoli. The food was terrific. Get the eggplant appetizer! Expensive, though. We both had a drink and an appetizer, and I had an entree and she had a dessert and coffee, and with tip it came to $90.
After dinner we went to a gamelan concert at Bard, where we ran into Les at the entrance. He was there alone, so we sat him between us and soaked him for information. The concert was interesting. Twenty players, and they explained the instruments, the method of playing them, and the format of the compositions. Some of the music seemed a lot like change ringing (which I love). Some of it sounded like a family reunion, with the kids on the left (the tenor section), the adults on the right (the base section), and the complaining mother-in-law (the conductor's drum) in the middle.
"Gamelan" does not refer to the instruments. It's what the ensemble of instruments is called, and the style of music. Once an ensemble is put together, the individual instruments cannot be simply shifted to another ensemble, because the instruments are all tuned to be played together. Within the major ensemble, the instruments are in pairs, male and female, to be played together, and they complement each other.
Most Gamelan comes from Java or Bali. What we saw and heard tonight is Balinese.
The audience was very small. We three may have been the only people there who weren't related in some way to a player.
After the concert I led FirstW back to the bridge, went home, pulled into my driveway, looked at the passenger seat, saw a bag there, wondered what it was, "Is that something I should take into the house?", and then I shouted "OH NO!" FirstW and I would have been about 15 miles apart by then with the river between us, but she might have heard me. She should have heard me.
I've owed her some CDs for weeks now. Every time I've seen her, the disks made it closer to the door, but not out the door. Last Thursday they made it into my car, but she didn't go to the dinner. Tonight they were in my car, but ... they didn't make it to her car.
Sheesh.
I'm taking the train into Manhattan tomorrow, to meet a fellow Blogger for some favorite places (and favorite chocolate, maybe). The time is getting away from me again, and I don't want to oversleep.
.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
1257 Proud of Me
Saturday, May 19, 2007
I am very proud of myself. Today, for the first Saturday morning in almost two months, I actually made it to the recycle center.
I took 11 large paper grocery bags - 8 were "slick" paper (office paper, glossy newspaper inserts, junk mail, magazines), and 3 were "dull" (newspaper, non-corrugated cardboard, phonebooks). I also took a 30-gallon bag of glass and plastic (#1 and 2 only, thank you). That stuff had been taking over my kitchen floor. It's so nice to be able to walk around in there again, and to be able to get into the lower cabinets without having to move heavy bags out of the way.
I didn't take corrugated cardboard. There's quite a lot of it (I don't know where it comes from! It just appears!), but that will have to wait for the next trip.
Driving back from the center, I noticed that the Elks had the huge drum barbecues set up in their parking lot. All summer long, on certain Saturdays, they grill chicken. You can get half a chicken and a delicious baked potato for $5! Today was the first of the season, I think. I bought two. For $10 I got a whole chicken and two huge potatoes. And butter.
Today's looking good so far, even if it is drizzling.
.
I am very proud of myself. Today, for the first Saturday morning in almost two months, I actually made it to the recycle center.
I took 11 large paper grocery bags - 8 were "slick" paper (office paper, glossy newspaper inserts, junk mail, magazines), and 3 were "dull" (newspaper, non-corrugated cardboard, phonebooks). I also took a 30-gallon bag of glass and plastic (#1 and 2 only, thank you). That stuff had been taking over my kitchen floor. It's so nice to be able to walk around in there again, and to be able to get into the lower cabinets without having to move heavy bags out of the way.
I didn't take corrugated cardboard. There's quite a lot of it (I don't know where it comes from! It just appears!), but that will have to wait for the next trip.
Driving back from the center, I noticed that the Elks had the huge drum barbecues set up in their parking lot. All summer long, on certain Saturdays, they grill chicken. You can get half a chicken and a delicious baked potato for $5! Today was the first of the season, I think. I bought two. For $10 I got a whole chicken and two huge potatoes. And butter.
Today's looking good so far, even if it is drizzling.
.
1256 What Do YOU Mean by "Support"?
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Scott Adams, in today's Dilbert.Blog post (http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/
2007/05/i_support_the_t.html), explains what he means when he claims that he "supports the troops more than you do." I agree with him 100%.
.
Scott Adams, in today's Dilbert.Blog post (http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/
2007/05/i_support_the_t.html), explains what he means when he claims that he "supports the troops more than you do." I agree with him 100%.
.
Friday, May 18, 2007
1255 Roman Holiday
Friday, May 18, 2007
Until last night, I hadn't seen Roman in a few weeks, and during those few weeks I'd been thinking about some things he'd said, and what they'd meant.
May of last year we were sitting on a bench on the grounds of the Roosevelt mansion, "talking deep", and he said that even if the other woman didn't exist, he and I probably wouldn't work long term, but he wouldn't or couldn't say why.
I sort of agreed with him, but I was thinking about trust issues, and trust problems can be overcome if you're willing to work on them, but I didn't see that happening, so I agreed.
Well, in recent phone conversations, he has said a few things, quite innocent things, that suddenly cast a bright light on the divide between us.
I told him about a house Daughter and Hercules liked, and how the layout wouldn't allow space between them, and how sometimes they need space apart. Roman said, "Well, the rooms have doors, don't they?"
Closing a door hadn't occurred to me, or to Daughter, or to Hercules, and I like that it didn't. Being in two different rooms, at different ends of the house even, is ok, but somehow going into a room and closing the door, shutting the other person out, is unacceptable to us. It's the difference between expecting your partner to respect your space, and shutting your partner out of that space.
I tried to explain it to Roman, and he didn't see a problem. That is a problem. It encapsulates one of the biggest communication problems he and I had -- that he shuts people out, and sees nothing wrong with that.
Last week we were having an ordinary phone conversation when he said something about how when someone he's close to repeatedly does something that annoys him, he just ignores it.
Pow! Realization. He doesn't just ignore it. Some few people can ignore, but not him.
I suddenly realized that he enjoys anger. He likes it. He likes to hold it, and look at it, and tuck it deep inside, so he can take it out again later and fondle it, and taste it, feel it again, and tuck it away again. If he were to address problems in his relationships when they occur, to attempt to understand them and reach some accomodation, he'd have to give up the anger, and he can't.
Knowing a little bit about his life, I sort of understand why it's necessary for him to hold on to anger. He never learned any other outlet, any other way, and that's one of the things he should be most angry about. Anger is his justification, his way to accept himself and his feelings. It's not something he can simply let go of.
And that's the showstopper.
There are so many nice, wonderful, sweet things about him. He's so easy to be with when he's happy. He does try hard to do the right thing. He is a good guy deep down. He is confused about a lot, doesn't know what he wants. Or why. I see that, and that's part of what I love about him.
When he's NOT around, I see the showstopper, and I know that although we can be lifelong friends, I simply cannot deal with or contribute to his anger stockpile, I can't allow him to ignore irritations between us when I know where they're going, what he's doing with them, I will push and prod him until he explodes, and that won't work at all, so friends is all we can be.
Unfortunately, every time I see him, I melt, and I want more.
This is a problem.
.
Until last night, I hadn't seen Roman in a few weeks, and during those few weeks I'd been thinking about some things he'd said, and what they'd meant.
May of last year we were sitting on a bench on the grounds of the Roosevelt mansion, "talking deep", and he said that even if the other woman didn't exist, he and I probably wouldn't work long term, but he wouldn't or couldn't say why.
I sort of agreed with him, but I was thinking about trust issues, and trust problems can be overcome if you're willing to work on them, but I didn't see that happening, so I agreed.
Well, in recent phone conversations, he has said a few things, quite innocent things, that suddenly cast a bright light on the divide between us.
I told him about a house Daughter and Hercules liked, and how the layout wouldn't allow space between them, and how sometimes they need space apart. Roman said, "Well, the rooms have doors, don't they?"
Closing a door hadn't occurred to me, or to Daughter, or to Hercules, and I like that it didn't. Being in two different rooms, at different ends of the house even, is ok, but somehow going into a room and closing the door, shutting the other person out, is unacceptable to us. It's the difference between expecting your partner to respect your space, and shutting your partner out of that space.
I tried to explain it to Roman, and he didn't see a problem. That is a problem. It encapsulates one of the biggest communication problems he and I had -- that he shuts people out, and sees nothing wrong with that.
Last week we were having an ordinary phone conversation when he said something about how when someone he's close to repeatedly does something that annoys him, he just ignores it.
Pow! Realization. He doesn't just ignore it. Some few people can ignore, but not him.
I suddenly realized that he enjoys anger. He likes it. He likes to hold it, and look at it, and tuck it deep inside, so he can take it out again later and fondle it, and taste it, feel it again, and tuck it away again. If he were to address problems in his relationships when they occur, to attempt to understand them and reach some accomodation, he'd have to give up the anger, and he can't.
Knowing a little bit about his life, I sort of understand why it's necessary for him to hold on to anger. He never learned any other outlet, any other way, and that's one of the things he should be most angry about. Anger is his justification, his way to accept himself and his feelings. It's not something he can simply let go of.
And that's the showstopper.
There are so many nice, wonderful, sweet things about him. He's so easy to be with when he's happy. He does try hard to do the right thing. He is a good guy deep down. He is confused about a lot, doesn't know what he wants. Or why. I see that, and that's part of what I love about him.
When he's NOT around, I see the showstopper, and I know that although we can be lifelong friends, I simply cannot deal with or contribute to his anger stockpile, I can't allow him to ignore irritations between us when I know where they're going, what he's doing with them, I will push and prod him until he explodes, and that won't work at all, so friends is all we can be.
Unfortunately, every time I see him, I melt, and I want more.
This is a problem.
.
1254 Fried Day
Friday, May 18, 2007
Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights I got to bed before midnight, and was up about 8 am. Said "oh what a good girl am I" and decided to do that some more.
Last night I went to the Third Thursday Mensa dinner (Zig, Bets, Roman, and me), got home about 9 pm, and then lost track of time. I crawled into bed about 1:45 am, worked on some crossword puzzles, and didn't fall asleep until after 5 am. I don't know why. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just couldn't get to sleep. I woke up a few minutes before noon.
I had taken a rather powerful antihistamine before leaving for dinner last night, and maybe that's what kept me awake, but I don't really think so because the dose was supposed to be repeated every 4 hours, so I don't see how it could have lasted for 12. I dunno.
Piper called before I'd even had my morning yogurt, and we decided to meet for late lunch and conversation. I had a screwdriver. For breakfast. Bad girl.
Then I stayed in his office for a few hours to use the WiFi to peruse a backlog of videos people had recommended or had sent me. At one point a client came in, so I wandered off for a bit to the antique shop around the corner, where I found a beautiful ring. It's a rectangular red stone set crosswise on the finger, in a sterling silver antique-looking setting, with marquisite (sp?) on the sides - for $20. It looks like a ruby! It can't be at that price, in silver rather than gold, but it is a beautiful ring.
You know, I'm always finding very beautiful rings in antique shops, yard sales, and at auctions, and what's amazing is that they always fit me perfectly. Then one day I realized that I wear an unusually small size (4.5 to 5.5), and the reason that these beautiful rings that fit me perfectly are sitting there waiting for me, not already bought, is that they fit hardly anyone else who might have been tempted. Cool.
Got home about 5 pm and got an almost immediate call from Russ at the museum. He wanted to know exactly what the problem was with the membership data base, so he could work on it. I described what was happening, and he said yeah, he'd seen that before, which felt good because that means I probably didn't cause it.
Then FirstWoman called. It had been a while since we had talked (I had assumed she'd be at last night's dinner, and was disappointed when she wasn't - especially since I had finally remembered to bring some disks I owe her), so we were on the phone for a while.
Then Russ called back - he was able to display the correct labels, and wanted to know if I could come in next Tuesday so I could try it while he was there. Oops, next Tuesday I'll be at Habitat. He'll be away for two weeks starting Wednesday. Sigh. So he's going to print the labels I need this evening, and they'll be in my mailbox for whenever I can get in next week.
I forgot to tell him that I hadn't tried printing the membership cards. I hope there's no problem with them. Oh, bleck.
.
Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights I got to bed before midnight, and was up about 8 am. Said "oh what a good girl am I" and decided to do that some more.
Last night I went to the Third Thursday Mensa dinner (Zig, Bets, Roman, and me), got home about 9 pm, and then lost track of time. I crawled into bed about 1:45 am, worked on some crossword puzzles, and didn't fall asleep until after 5 am. I don't know why. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just couldn't get to sleep. I woke up a few minutes before noon.
I had taken a rather powerful antihistamine before leaving for dinner last night, and maybe that's what kept me awake, but I don't really think so because the dose was supposed to be repeated every 4 hours, so I don't see how it could have lasted for 12. I dunno.
Piper called before I'd even had my morning yogurt, and we decided to meet for late lunch and conversation. I had a screwdriver. For breakfast. Bad girl.
Then I stayed in his office for a few hours to use the WiFi to peruse a backlog of videos people had recommended or had sent me. At one point a client came in, so I wandered off for a bit to the antique shop around the corner, where I found a beautiful ring. It's a rectangular red stone set crosswise on the finger, in a sterling silver antique-looking setting, with marquisite (sp?) on the sides - for $20. It looks like a ruby! It can't be at that price, in silver rather than gold, but it is a beautiful ring.
You know, I'm always finding very beautiful rings in antique shops, yard sales, and at auctions, and what's amazing is that they always fit me perfectly. Then one day I realized that I wear an unusually small size (4.5 to 5.5), and the reason that these beautiful rings that fit me perfectly are sitting there waiting for me, not already bought, is that they fit hardly anyone else who might have been tempted. Cool.
Got home about 5 pm and got an almost immediate call from Russ at the museum. He wanted to know exactly what the problem was with the membership data base, so he could work on it. I described what was happening, and he said yeah, he'd seen that before, which felt good because that means I probably didn't cause it.
Then FirstWoman called. It had been a while since we had talked (I had assumed she'd be at last night's dinner, and was disappointed when she wasn't - especially since I had finally remembered to bring some disks I owe her), so we were on the phone for a while.
Then Russ called back - he was able to display the correct labels, and wanted to know if I could come in next Tuesday so I could try it while he was there. Oops, next Tuesday I'll be at Habitat. He'll be away for two weeks starting Wednesday. Sigh. So he's going to print the labels I need this evening, and they'll be in my mailbox for whenever I can get in next week.
I forgot to tell him that I hadn't tried printing the membership cards. I hope there's no problem with them. Oh, bleck.
.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
1253 Rakkasah Spring Caravan Videos
Some Caravan videos are up on YouTube.
Willow with Djinn:
For more, go to www.youtube.com and search on "spring caravan".
.
Willow with Djinn:
For more, go to www.youtube.com and search on "spring caravan".
.
1252 Hospitals
Thursday, May 17, 2007
[Later edit: See http://www.empirecenter.org/2006/11/berger_commissi.cfm for more info on why the urge to merge.]
The previous post is unnumbered because it's not "me" (me! me! me! what this blog's about!) and I figured I'd delete it before the end of the month, when I copy the month's posts to posterity.
I found Irwin's piece interesting, because, yeah, most of us civilians don't really understand why Kingston Hospital and Benedictine (and Northern Dutchess across the river) insist they have to combine to survive.
(Keep in mind that I know only the tiniest bit about this subject, at the highest level. I represent the average Joe-on-the-street. Joe and I are confused.)
The problem with them combining is that Benedictine is Catholic, and Kingston and Northern Dutchess are not. This is a critical distinction when it comes to women's health choices and end-of-life decisions, among other issues. Benedictine won't back down. If the three combine, even if a separate women's health clinic is set up as proposed, decisions on many levels will be taken from the individual, and given over to the Catholic Church. All three hospitals will be Catholic.
Ten or so years ago, the three hospitals claimed they were on the verge of bankruptcy, and they only way to save them was combining. The public outcry was so loud it didn't happen.
Kingston is a very small city, and quite frankly, two large hospitals only a few blocks apart does seem excessive. I think most people figured Benedictine would go under, and then Northern Dutchess and Kingston could combine and remain secular. We civilians waited to see what would happen.
Over the past ten years, all three hospitals built and bought. Northern Dutchess has doubled in size, and has formed some kind of "financial-and-services-only" agreement with a Poughkeepsie hospital, which takes them out of the Kingston/Benedictine equation. Kingston built a huge parking garage, and expanded. Benedictine is very proud of their new cancer center(s) and other new buildings. All three have upgraded to cutting-edge major equipment and services.
They've been looking pretty prosperous for businesses on the verge of bankruptcy.
We civilians don't understand.
So now this state report comes out, recommending that either Kingston gives up to Benedictine, or gets closed (Kingston Hospital being the public hospital, and therefore the one most easily threatened by the state).
Why can't they combine with the "financial-and-services" sharing type of deal Northern Dutchess struck? Why does Benedictine insist on dictating philosophy? How can they be in so much trouble when they've been spending so much money lately?
We civilians just don't understand.
Irwin's editorial adds considerations, but doesn't clear up the confusion.
------------------------------------
Mensa dinner tonight.
.
[Later edit: See http://www.empirecenter.org/2006/11/berger_commissi.cfm for more info on why the urge to merge.]
The previous post is unnumbered because it's not "me" (me! me! me! what this blog's about!) and I figured I'd delete it before the end of the month, when I copy the month's posts to posterity.
I found Irwin's piece interesting, because, yeah, most of us civilians don't really understand why Kingston Hospital and Benedictine (and Northern Dutchess across the river) insist they have to combine to survive.
(Keep in mind that I know only the tiniest bit about this subject, at the highest level. I represent the average Joe-on-the-street. Joe and I are confused.)
The problem with them combining is that Benedictine is Catholic, and Kingston and Northern Dutchess are not. This is a critical distinction when it comes to women's health choices and end-of-life decisions, among other issues. Benedictine won't back down. If the three combine, even if a separate women's health clinic is set up as proposed, decisions on many levels will be taken from the individual, and given over to the Catholic Church. All three hospitals will be Catholic.
Ten or so years ago, the three hospitals claimed they were on the verge of bankruptcy, and they only way to save them was combining. The public outcry was so loud it didn't happen.
Kingston is a very small city, and quite frankly, two large hospitals only a few blocks apart does seem excessive. I think most people figured Benedictine would go under, and then Northern Dutchess and Kingston could combine and remain secular. We civilians waited to see what would happen.
Over the past ten years, all three hospitals built and bought. Northern Dutchess has doubled in size, and has formed some kind of "financial-and-services-only" agreement with a Poughkeepsie hospital, which takes them out of the Kingston/Benedictine equation. Kingston built a huge parking garage, and expanded. Benedictine is very proud of their new cancer center(s) and other new buildings. All three have upgraded to cutting-edge major equipment and services.
They've been looking pretty prosperous for businesses on the verge of bankruptcy.
We civilians don't understand.
So now this state report comes out, recommending that either Kingston gives up to Benedictine, or gets closed (Kingston Hospital being the public hospital, and therefore the one most easily threatened by the state).
Why can't they combine with the "financial-and-services" sharing type of deal Northern Dutchess struck? Why does Benedictine insist on dictating philosophy? How can they be in so much trouble when they've been spending so much money lately?
We civilians just don't understand.
Irwin's editorial adds considerations, but doesn't clear up the confusion.
------------------------------------
Mensa dinner tonight.
.
Guest Opinion
The following opinion was written by a friend, and published in the Poughkeepsie Journal newspaper.
-----------------------------
HMOs, THE BERGER COMMISSION, AND GOVERNOR SPITZER: How the Corporate Bulldozer Buried the Reformist Steamroller
Irwin Sperber
The actual conditions behind the crisis forcing Kingston hospital to merge with Benedictine, a Catholic hospital, have not been reported. The key to understanding the red ink in which local hospitals are drowning is that the same pattern is unfolding all across New York State and because of the very same conditions.
Over the past seven years, hospitals in New York State have piled up losses of $2.3 billion due to underpayments from Medicare, Medicaid, and health maintenance organizations. Alongside the bankruptcies facing many hospitals is the financial engorgement enjoyed by HMOs. With dedication to profit maintenance rather than health maintenance, HMOs have accumulated $3.7 billion in profits during the past six years alone. These trends are inextricably related.
For Medicaid patients, a hospital loses 76 cents for each dollar it spends. For Medicare outpatients, a hospital regularly loses 18 cents for every dollar it spends. Viewed over the span of a decade, costs for in-patient care borne by hospitals in New York have gone up by 32.4%. During this same period, Medicare reimbursement rates to them have been increased by just 14.2%. If your own household expenses and income were matched up at these incongruous levels, how long would it take you to face ruin?
Insufficient and slow reimbursement by HMOs to hospitals that have already incurred major expenses for patient care is only one means by which these companies make so much profit while hospitals are put to ruin. These companies further cut their expenses by authorizing coverage only for a short stay when patients require extended treatment and supervised convalescence in a hospital. They also deny coverage to a substantial percentage of patients in need of its medical specialists. The restrictive and cumbersome “appeal process” is heavily stacked in favor of the HMOs. These trends lead to a striking paradox. On the one hand, more people than ever before are seriously ill and in need of hospitalization; on the other hand, there are a great many “empty beds” and “underutilized facilities” going bankrupt in the mid-Hudson region and throughout New York State.
Although the Commission on Health Facilities for the 21st Century (the “Berger Commission”) is well known for its recommendations to merge or close these “inefficient” hospitals and privatize many others, the identity of Mr. Berger himself has eluded public scrutiny. Who is Stephen Berger? Whose interests does he represent? As executive vice president of GE Capital from 1990 to 1993, Berger guided his company into still another lucrative industry: he expanded General Electric’s annuity business, culminating in the 1994 acquisition of Harcourt General Insurance -- a behemoth in its own right offering health, life, and accident policies. The strategy of privatizing supposedly “mismanaged” public hospitals, which can then be purchased at fire sale prices by the HMOs themselves, flows directly from Mr. Berger’s corporate-oriented career path. HMOs appreciate this agenda, and they heartily endorse the recommendations.
Much more could and should be said about the role of Eliot Spitzer in embracing the Berger Commission’s ill-conceived recommendations. The role of HMOs in twisting and mutilating the health care priorities in the state legislature through campaign contributions and relentless lobbying also cries out for investigation. And the failure of the news media to inform the public about the forces responsible for the impending blows to New York’s already hobbled healthcare system calls for critical analysis in its own right. I hope the present letter might encourage those groups now challenging the Commission’s recommendations to expose and confront the corporate interests responsible for them in the first place.
-----------------------------
HMOs, THE BERGER COMMISSION, AND GOVERNOR SPITZER: How the Corporate Bulldozer Buried the Reformist Steamroller
Irwin Sperber
The actual conditions behind the crisis forcing Kingston hospital to merge with Benedictine, a Catholic hospital, have not been reported. The key to understanding the red ink in which local hospitals are drowning is that the same pattern is unfolding all across New York State and because of the very same conditions.
Over the past seven years, hospitals in New York State have piled up losses of $2.3 billion due to underpayments from Medicare, Medicaid, and health maintenance organizations. Alongside the bankruptcies facing many hospitals is the financial engorgement enjoyed by HMOs. With dedication to profit maintenance rather than health maintenance, HMOs have accumulated $3.7 billion in profits during the past six years alone. These trends are inextricably related.
For Medicaid patients, a hospital loses 76 cents for each dollar it spends. For Medicare outpatients, a hospital regularly loses 18 cents for every dollar it spends. Viewed over the span of a decade, costs for in-patient care borne by hospitals in New York have gone up by 32.4%. During this same period, Medicare reimbursement rates to them have been increased by just 14.2%. If your own household expenses and income were matched up at these incongruous levels, how long would it take you to face ruin?
Insufficient and slow reimbursement by HMOs to hospitals that have already incurred major expenses for patient care is only one means by which these companies make so much profit while hospitals are put to ruin. These companies further cut their expenses by authorizing coverage only for a short stay when patients require extended treatment and supervised convalescence in a hospital. They also deny coverage to a substantial percentage of patients in need of its medical specialists. The restrictive and cumbersome “appeal process” is heavily stacked in favor of the HMOs. These trends lead to a striking paradox. On the one hand, more people than ever before are seriously ill and in need of hospitalization; on the other hand, there are a great many “empty beds” and “underutilized facilities” going bankrupt in the mid-Hudson region and throughout New York State.
Although the Commission on Health Facilities for the 21st Century (the “Berger Commission”) is well known for its recommendations to merge or close these “inefficient” hospitals and privatize many others, the identity of Mr. Berger himself has eluded public scrutiny. Who is Stephen Berger? Whose interests does he represent? As executive vice president of GE Capital from 1990 to 1993, Berger guided his company into still another lucrative industry: he expanded General Electric’s annuity business, culminating in the 1994 acquisition of Harcourt General Insurance -- a behemoth in its own right offering health, life, and accident policies. The strategy of privatizing supposedly “mismanaged” public hospitals, which can then be purchased at fire sale prices by the HMOs themselves, flows directly from Mr. Berger’s corporate-oriented career path. HMOs appreciate this agenda, and they heartily endorse the recommendations.
Much more could and should be said about the role of Eliot Spitzer in embracing the Berger Commission’s ill-conceived recommendations. The role of HMOs in twisting and mutilating the health care priorities in the state legislature through campaign contributions and relentless lobbying also cries out for investigation. And the failure of the news media to inform the public about the forces responsible for the impending blows to New York’s already hobbled healthcare system calls for critical analysis in its own right. I hope the present letter might encourage those groups now challenging the Commission’s recommendations to expose and confront the corporate interests responsible for them in the first place.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
1251 Cilantro Again
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I'm getting dozens of search hits on the cilantro post. Why? What's going on that so many people all over the world are suddenly searching for cilantro soap?
---------------------------
I hadn't turned the TV on at all today. Instead, I had radios in the kitchen, bedroom, living room, and den all tuned to NPR. Very commendable, but the disadvantage is that I didn't notice time passing. I've got BBC news on the TV now, and I think I'll leave the television on. Gotta get some stuff done this evening.
----------------------------
I had hoped to see The Man this evening, but he's in a far southern state on business. He's trying to tie up all loose ends before the Maryland Mensa gathering at the end of the month. He had warned me that his work schedule had been a problem in relationships in the past. Between his work and travel, and his social, sports, and other commitments, yeah, I see a potential problem. He lives too far away for impromptu visits in free moments.
I guess that will eventually be the test. Can I be patient? Will he arrange more time for me? We'll see. Maybe it will get to the point where I become important enough to schedule into his life. Maybe not. Too soon to tell. I don't know him well enough yet to know how driven he is.
He IS trying to ensure that the gathering weekend is without conflict or stress, so accept, Silk. Don't fuss.
----------------------------
It's just as well that I have more time to kick this cold. There's nothing left but clear sinus drainage, but that's more than enough. It's not neat or pretty, and when it settles in the glottis/epiglottis/whatever, it sends me into paroxysms of coughing that pretty much flatten me. Throat, chest, and nose are fine.
.
I'm getting dozens of search hits on the cilantro post. Why? What's going on that so many people all over the world are suddenly searching for cilantro soap?
---------------------------
I hadn't turned the TV on at all today. Instead, I had radios in the kitchen, bedroom, living room, and den all tuned to NPR. Very commendable, but the disadvantage is that I didn't notice time passing. I've got BBC news on the TV now, and I think I'll leave the television on. Gotta get some stuff done this evening.
----------------------------
I had hoped to see The Man this evening, but he's in a far southern state on business. He's trying to tie up all loose ends before the Maryland Mensa gathering at the end of the month. He had warned me that his work schedule had been a problem in relationships in the past. Between his work and travel, and his social, sports, and other commitments, yeah, I see a potential problem. He lives too far away for impromptu visits in free moments.
I guess that will eventually be the test. Can I be patient? Will he arrange more time for me? We'll see. Maybe it will get to the point where I become important enough to schedule into his life. Maybe not. Too soon to tell. I don't know him well enough yet to know how driven he is.
He IS trying to ensure that the gathering weekend is without conflict or stress, so accept, Silk. Don't fuss.
----------------------------
It's just as well that I have more time to kick this cold. There's nothing left but clear sinus drainage, but that's more than enough. It's not neat or pretty, and when it settles in the glottis/epiglottis/whatever, it sends me into paroxysms of coughing that pretty much flatten me. Throat, chest, and nose are fine.
.
1250 Overpriced?
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Ok, this I don't understand: http://www.bikecult.com/works/bikesframes/Moth06.html.
Why would anyone pay $675 for a bicycle with an aluminum frame, no gears, and no brakes?
.
Ok, this I don't understand: http://www.bikecult.com/works/bikesframes/Moth06.html.
Why would anyone pay $675 for a bicycle with an aluminum frame, no gears, and no brakes?
.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
1249 Mind and Morality
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
At http://wjh1.wjh.harvard.edu/~moral/index.html, you can take a test on moral choices. Be careful not to add possibilities to the descriptions, like "Well, I could call 911." You have to go with the situation exactly as described.
Taking that first test opens the portal to a flock of other tests you can choose.
My taking the tests and examining the results helped to explain to me why I find most other people to be too judgemental, too ready to punish mere thoughts, and too ready to ascribe "bad" thoughts and motives to others.
Because they mostly do.
Have fun. (You probably will not get the same questions I did.)
--------------------------------
Not really related to the above, a separate thought engendered by the court case on TV at the moment:
I am always amazed when someone is accused of something heinous, and friends and relatives respond to the charges with, "Oh, that's impossible. I know her, and she couldn't possibly do anything like that! She's such a nice person!" And they rally 'round, and defend, and raise money for defense, and spit vitriol and throw rocks at the accusers, and accuse them of lying - all based on their belief that the accusation doesn't fit with what they know of the person.
"I know she didn't do it because I know her and I know she couldn't have done it."
Bullpoopy.
Unless they witnessed the actual act, and saw someone else do it, they don't really know! Everyone has parts to them that no one knows. It always pisses me off when people act like they know another that well, because they don't. We mostly don't even know ourselves that well. It bugs me when people ignore facts in favor of loyalty.
It works the other way, too - when someone suggests that someone else could have done something nasty, and another says, "Oh, yes, I know her and she's quite capable of it", and next thing you know, she did do it, regardless of the lack of any evidence that anything of the kind had ever actually happened!
I don't understand either bunch. I don't understand why it's so difficult to reserve judgement until the facts are in. I'll decide something is likely or unlikely, but not with the passionate sureness of those others.
----------------------------------
This has personal application. An old friend was recently accused of a serious crime. The friend and I had only shortly before reestablished contact - I hadn't seen or heard from him in 40 years. I knew him as a nice and thoughtful guy, and in the forty years since we had been acquainted he had established himself as a pillar of his church and community. The accusation almost destroyed his life, costing him his job just before retirement. (The charges have since been dropped, but his record has not been expunged. This will hang over him for the rest of his life.)
I reserved judgement. I actually felt guilty doing so. He's an old friend. I should stand by him, right? I should have written letters to the court praising him, shouldn't I? That's what everyone expected me to do, wanted me to do. Along with everyone else who wrote letters saying he couldn't possibly have done it because they know him as ... blah blah ... and therefore he couldn't have.
But I really truly don't know him now. I have no basis for judgement whatsoever. I was given some of the facts in the case, which seem to absolve him, but I am too aware that I don't have all the facts.
I don't know what happened, and I have no basis on which to form an opinion or take a stance, and for that, I feel guilty.
-----------------------------------
Perhaps this all goes back to our frustration when we kids tried to tell teachers, councilors, doctors, policemen, neighbors about our father and what he did to us, and we got laughed at and pushed away and ignored, because "I know your father, and he's a nice guy. He wouldn't do that. You must have just made him mad."
Anger had nothing to do with it. And he wasn't a nice guy. Not really. He was insane.
.
At http://wjh1.wjh.harvard.edu/~moral/index.html, you can take a test on moral choices. Be careful not to add possibilities to the descriptions, like "Well, I could call 911." You have to go with the situation exactly as described.
Taking that first test opens the portal to a flock of other tests you can choose.
My taking the tests and examining the results helped to explain to me why I find most other people to be too judgemental, too ready to punish mere thoughts, and too ready to ascribe "bad" thoughts and motives to others.
Because they mostly do.
Have fun. (You probably will not get the same questions I did.)
--------------------------------
Not really related to the above, a separate thought engendered by the court case on TV at the moment:
I am always amazed when someone is accused of something heinous, and friends and relatives respond to the charges with, "Oh, that's impossible. I know her, and she couldn't possibly do anything like that! She's such a nice person!" And they rally 'round, and defend, and raise money for defense, and spit vitriol and throw rocks at the accusers, and accuse them of lying - all based on their belief that the accusation doesn't fit with what they know of the person.
"I know she didn't do it because I know her and I know she couldn't have done it."
Bullpoopy.
Unless they witnessed the actual act, and saw someone else do it, they don't really know! Everyone has parts to them that no one knows. It always pisses me off when people act like they know another that well, because they don't. We mostly don't even know ourselves that well. It bugs me when people ignore facts in favor of loyalty.
It works the other way, too - when someone suggests that someone else could have done something nasty, and another says, "Oh, yes, I know her and she's quite capable of it", and next thing you know, she did do it, regardless of the lack of any evidence that anything of the kind had ever actually happened!
I don't understand either bunch. I don't understand why it's so difficult to reserve judgement until the facts are in. I'll decide something is likely or unlikely, but not with the passionate sureness of those others.
----------------------------------
This has personal application. An old friend was recently accused of a serious crime. The friend and I had only shortly before reestablished contact - I hadn't seen or heard from him in 40 years. I knew him as a nice and thoughtful guy, and in the forty years since we had been acquainted he had established himself as a pillar of his church and community. The accusation almost destroyed his life, costing him his job just before retirement. (The charges have since been dropped, but his record has not been expunged. This will hang over him for the rest of his life.)
I reserved judgement. I actually felt guilty doing so. He's an old friend. I should stand by him, right? I should have written letters to the court praising him, shouldn't I? That's what everyone expected me to do, wanted me to do. Along with everyone else who wrote letters saying he couldn't possibly have done it because they know him as ... blah blah ... and therefore he couldn't have.
But I really truly don't know him now. I have no basis for judgement whatsoever. I was given some of the facts in the case, which seem to absolve him, but I am too aware that I don't have all the facts.
I don't know what happened, and I have no basis on which to form an opinion or take a stance, and for that, I feel guilty.
-----------------------------------
Perhaps this all goes back to our frustration when we kids tried to tell teachers, councilors, doctors, policemen, neighbors about our father and what he did to us, and we got laughed at and pushed away and ignored, because "I know your father, and he's a nice guy. He wouldn't do that. You must have just made him mad."
Anger had nothing to do with it. And he wasn't a nice guy. Not really. He was insane.
.
1248 Highway Signs / Habitat
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
New York has a law that loose loads in a truck or trailer must be covered, with a tarp or otherwise, so that bits don't blow out on the road. Driving to Rochester, I saw several several of those highway department mini-lightbulb signs along the Thruway, saying:
Panel 1: "Uncovered loads"
Panel 2: "Will be enforced"
Huh?
I don't think what it says is what was meant.
But I guess it's still better than one of the signs, that said:
Panel 1: "Untarped loads"
Panel 2: "Will be enforced"
Untarped? "Tarp" is now a verb?
I guess any word can be verbed.
-----------------------------------
One small town along the northern reach of the Thruway has a public relations problem. Just before the exit was a large "Attractions at next exit" sign. Below the header, the sign was a vast expanse of blank space.
------------------------------------
I got up in good time this morning, groomed and dressed in grungies, located my work gloves, and headed for the Habitat for Humanity project. Only problem was that I couldn't stop coughing. I feel fine, don't feel sick, but as usual at the end of a cold my sinuses are in major flush mode. The least little bit of gluck down the back of my throat will make me cough, and this gluck is the consistency of rubber cement, so there's nose blowing, schnuffing, choking and coughing. I had taken a cough suppressant, but I don't think it affects this kind of cough.
Anyway, I walked into the old house where they're tearing out walls, and within minutes started coughing so furiously I couldn't even stand. I had anticipated a problem and had taken some dust masks along, but they didn't help. Choked out my apologies and left.
I'm unhappy about that. The work schedule goes until the end of the month, so I hope I'll still have an opportunity.
.
New York has a law that loose loads in a truck or trailer must be covered, with a tarp or otherwise, so that bits don't blow out on the road. Driving to Rochester, I saw several several of those highway department mini-lightbulb signs along the Thruway, saying:
Panel 1: "Uncovered loads"
Panel 2: "Will be enforced"
Huh?
I don't think what it says is what was meant.
But I guess it's still better than one of the signs, that said:
Panel 1: "Untarped loads"
Panel 2: "Will be enforced"
Untarped? "Tarp" is now a verb?
I guess any word can be verbed.
-----------------------------------
One small town along the northern reach of the Thruway has a public relations problem. Just before the exit was a large "Attractions at next exit" sign. Below the header, the sign was a vast expanse of blank space.
------------------------------------
I got up in good time this morning, groomed and dressed in grungies, located my work gloves, and headed for the Habitat for Humanity project. Only problem was that I couldn't stop coughing. I feel fine, don't feel sick, but as usual at the end of a cold my sinuses are in major flush mode. The least little bit of gluck down the back of my throat will make me cough, and this gluck is the consistency of rubber cement, so there's nose blowing, schnuffing, choking and coughing. I had taken a cough suppressant, but I don't think it affects this kind of cough.
Anyway, I walked into the old house where they're tearing out walls, and within minutes started coughing so furiously I couldn't even stand. I had anticipated a problem and had taken some dust masks along, but they didn't help. Choked out my apologies and left.
I'm unhappy about that. The work schedule goes until the end of the month, so I hope I'll still have an opportunity.
.
Monday, May 14, 2007
1247 Dancing with the nudes?
Monday, May 14, 2007
There's some kind of dance competition on TV now, maybe Dancing With the Stars? Not going to look it up. But the women's "dresses" are embarrassing. They may as well be naked. What happened to "classy"? Doesn't that get you respect any more?
.
There's some kind of dance competition on TV now, maybe Dancing With the Stars? Not going to look it up. But the women's "dresses" are embarrassing. They may as well be naked. What happened to "classy"? Doesn't that get you respect any more?
.
1246 Tired
Monday, May 14, 2007
Home. Tired. Have to join Habitat workparty at 9 am tomorrow. I'm going to bed now.
.
Home. Tired. Have to join Habitat workparty at 9 am tomorrow. I'm going to bed now.
.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
1245 Sigh of Relief
Sunday, May 13, 2007
I survived the weekend.
I'm still at the hotel. I had reserved two nights because I wasn't sure how tired I'd be, what with the cold and all. Glad I did. I got back to the hotel about 6 pm, and promptly passed out for an hour and a half. I'd have been off the road if I'd attempted to drive home.
Dad's birthday reception/luncheon at the church was nice. Lots of people were there, many from out of town. I was surprised that he had difficulty walking. He takes tiny steps and needed to lean on my arm for balance.
So many of the people who came up to wish him a happy birthday said things like, "Congratulations on making ninety! My aunt was 92 when she died." Or father was 94, or whatever. I dunno, but if I were hearing that said to me, I'd think "Gee, are you telling me I haven't got much longer to go?" Like they were stressing that he's into the single digits left. Yeah, probably true, but he didn't need to be reminded over and over. And over.
After the reception, MS and YS and their families left for home, so I went back to Dad's house with Dad, his aide, ES, and ESH. ES tapped into my auction experience to go through the attic and basement to see how much of the junk was worth saving. There were like seven large steamer trunks and some old suitcases that would go well at auction, some wonderful old multi-tier card-file cabinets, an old child's rocking chair, a wicker perambulator, and a few other things. But most of the stuff either wasn't old enough, in good enough condition, or high enough quality to bother saving. ES says they have to clear out at least the attic this summer, because it must be insulated. Heating costs are going through the roof.
Daughter had arrived at the hotel late last night, after an eight hour drive alone (Hercules had to stay home to care for their cat who'd made a Friday night emergency vet visit with an intestinal blockage - she's ok now), and she actually took advantage of the hotel pool before bed. She was a comfort to me during the reception today. She's very social, and I'm proud of her ability to fit in so easily. She got into conversation with one of her step-cousins (MS's daughter), and got some insight into what the problem is with YS. Apparently it's not just me. There's tension between YS and ES as well.
Daughter left for home after the reception. Seems like a long drive for such a short visit, but she's young.
Oh, well. I'm tired, but I'm alive. I'll be able to sleep tonight. That's more than I thought I'd have after yesterday.
.
I survived the weekend.
I'm still at the hotel. I had reserved two nights because I wasn't sure how tired I'd be, what with the cold and all. Glad I did. I got back to the hotel about 6 pm, and promptly passed out for an hour and a half. I'd have been off the road if I'd attempted to drive home.
Dad's birthday reception/luncheon at the church was nice. Lots of people were there, many from out of town. I was surprised that he had difficulty walking. He takes tiny steps and needed to lean on my arm for balance.
So many of the people who came up to wish him a happy birthday said things like, "Congratulations on making ninety! My aunt was 92 when she died." Or father was 94, or whatever. I dunno, but if I were hearing that said to me, I'd think "Gee, are you telling me I haven't got much longer to go?" Like they were stressing that he's into the single digits left. Yeah, probably true, but he didn't need to be reminded over and over. And over.
After the reception, MS and YS and their families left for home, so I went back to Dad's house with Dad, his aide, ES, and ESH. ES tapped into my auction experience to go through the attic and basement to see how much of the junk was worth saving. There were like seven large steamer trunks and some old suitcases that would go well at auction, some wonderful old multi-tier card-file cabinets, an old child's rocking chair, a wicker perambulator, and a few other things. But most of the stuff either wasn't old enough, in good enough condition, or high enough quality to bother saving. ES says they have to clear out at least the attic this summer, because it must be insulated. Heating costs are going through the roof.
Daughter had arrived at the hotel late last night, after an eight hour drive alone (Hercules had to stay home to care for their cat who'd made a Friday night emergency vet visit with an intestinal blockage - she's ok now), and she actually took advantage of the hotel pool before bed. She was a comfort to me during the reception today. She's very social, and I'm proud of her ability to fit in so easily. She got into conversation with one of her step-cousins (MS's daughter), and got some insight into what the problem is with YS. Apparently it's not just me. There's tension between YS and ES as well.
Daughter left for home after the reception. Seems like a long drive for such a short visit, but she's young.
Oh, well. I'm tired, but I'm alive. I'll be able to sleep tonight. That's more than I thought I'd have after yesterday.
.
1244 Just Like? Not Quite.
Somewhere in the middle of the night...Saturday into Sunday, May 13, 2007
In the previous entry, speaking of Jay's elder sister, I said, "She's very like her father - figures that once she's thought something out, she's obviously right and any additional information is superfluous. She'll ride right over objections. "
Perhaps that was an overstatement. The father was often very difficult to take. He would very often listen impatiently to what one had to say, and then respond "Well, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard."
"Stupid" was his favorite word. He used it often.
Anything popular was stupid. All television was stupid. Purchasing any car other than a Volvo was stupid. Anything outside his habit was stupid. He showed up unexpectedly on our doorstep at lunchtime one day (we understood he'd be arriving the next day), and the only thing I had to offer him for lunch was leftover chicken vegetable stirfry from the night before. His response? "That's not a proper lunch." Duh? I had to make a deli run to get him a turkey sandwich. And it couldn't be ready-made. I had to have the deli package the ingredients all separately and then assemble it at home. Deli-made sandwiches were "stupid".
When we went to France, he had every minute, and that's not an exaggeration, mapped out.
7:00 am - wake up
7:30 am - breakfast
8:12 am - check out of hotel
8:22 am - start drive to Arles
11:40 am - purchase bread and cheese in xxx village
11:55 am - eat lunch in park in yyy village
12:25 pm - resume drive
2:30 pm - arrive Arles, check into hotel
2:50 pm - go see ruins
... and so on. I have an actual itinerary from one of our trips, and it really does look like that, for three weeks worth!
I had never seen the Mediterranean, and I have this thing about wanting to touch water - I have touched the Atlantic, and the Pacific, and the Caribbean, and the Mississippi, and the Missouri, and the Red River, and so on, and when we were passing very close to the Mediterranean Sea, I could catch glimpses through the buildings, I wanted to stop for just a moment so I could run down to the water and touch it, and he said no, because it would put us off schedule.
He was very difficult to deal with. It's no wonder YSH disliked him.
We butted heads a lot at first, but I persevered and actually won a few disagreements with him, and he gradually grew to respect my opinion. It eventually got to where he'd say "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard", and I'd lash back "No it's not!", and he'd laugh, and then he'd listen.
He's what Jay grew up with. Every once in a while, Jay would get frustrated with something he was trying to do, and he would suddenly flip out and beat himself really hard on his temples with his fists, shouting "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He wasn't himself then. I'd have to grab his head in my arms and calm him. I used to wonder how much "Stupid!" he got in his childhood. I suspect that precious little of what he ever did was good enough.
Well, now the father is old. A succession of caregivers rules his every moment. They've taken control away from him. I feel sorry for him. I seem to be the only person he can express his frustration to. When he tries to tell his daughters he wants to be able to set his own schedules or whatever, they respond, "Oh, Dad. That's stupid. They're just doing what's best for you...."
He's just a bewildered old man now.
And suddenly YSH can stand him?
Yeah, sure. Ok.
.
In the previous entry, speaking of Jay's elder sister, I said, "She's very like her father - figures that once she's thought something out, she's obviously right and any additional information is superfluous. She'll ride right over objections. "
Perhaps that was an overstatement. The father was often very difficult to take. He would very often listen impatiently to what one had to say, and then respond "Well, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard."
"Stupid" was his favorite word. He used it often.
Anything popular was stupid. All television was stupid. Purchasing any car other than a Volvo was stupid. Anything outside his habit was stupid. He showed up unexpectedly on our doorstep at lunchtime one day (we understood he'd be arriving the next day), and the only thing I had to offer him for lunch was leftover chicken vegetable stirfry from the night before. His response? "That's not a proper lunch." Duh? I had to make a deli run to get him a turkey sandwich. And it couldn't be ready-made. I had to have the deli package the ingredients all separately and then assemble it at home. Deli-made sandwiches were "stupid".
When we went to France, he had every minute, and that's not an exaggeration, mapped out.
7:00 am - wake up
7:30 am - breakfast
8:12 am - check out of hotel
8:22 am - start drive to Arles
11:40 am - purchase bread and cheese in xxx village
11:55 am - eat lunch in park in yyy village
12:25 pm - resume drive
2:30 pm - arrive Arles, check into hotel
2:50 pm - go see ruins
... and so on. I have an actual itinerary from one of our trips, and it really does look like that, for three weeks worth!
I had never seen the Mediterranean, and I have this thing about wanting to touch water - I have touched the Atlantic, and the Pacific, and the Caribbean, and the Mississippi, and the Missouri, and the Red River, and so on, and when we were passing very close to the Mediterranean Sea, I could catch glimpses through the buildings, I wanted to stop for just a moment so I could run down to the water and touch it, and he said no, because it would put us off schedule.
He was very difficult to deal with. It's no wonder YSH disliked him.
We butted heads a lot at first, but I persevered and actually won a few disagreements with him, and he gradually grew to respect my opinion. It eventually got to where he'd say "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard", and I'd lash back "No it's not!", and he'd laugh, and then he'd listen.
He's what Jay grew up with. Every once in a while, Jay would get frustrated with something he was trying to do, and he would suddenly flip out and beat himself really hard on his temples with his fists, shouting "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He wasn't himself then. I'd have to grab his head in my arms and calm him. I used to wonder how much "Stupid!" he got in his childhood. I suspect that precious little of what he ever did was good enough.
Well, now the father is old. A succession of caregivers rules his every moment. They've taken control away from him. I feel sorry for him. I seem to be the only person he can express his frustration to. When he tries to tell his daughters he wants to be able to set his own schedules or whatever, they respond, "Oh, Dad. That's stupid. They're just doing what's best for you...."
He's just a bewildered old man now.
And suddenly YSH can stand him?
Yeah, sure. Ok.
.
1243 SOS - Please, Someone, Save Me!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
I'm sitting in a hotel room in Rochester, NY, suffering an optical migraine, and wishing I could be anywhere else.
I arrived about 7 pm and went directly to the father-in-law's house. Jay's father. I guess he's technically not my FIL any more, I don't know, I sure can't call him my late FIL, and "my late husband's father" is so awkward. Well, anyway, most of the first and second level blood clan was there. Youngest sister (YS) and her husband (YSH) and two daughters, middle sister (MS) and her husband (MSH) and two daughters, and eldest sister (ES) and her husband (ESH).
Of them all, I like ESH best. He's smart and reasonable. ES is also nice, except when she gets insistent, and usually any unpleasantness blows over quickly. She's very like her father - figures that once she's thought something out, she's obviously right and any additional information is superfluous. She'll ride right over objections. Other than that we get along ok. She appreciates all I did for her little brother.
MS I don't know at all. Oddly, Jay didn't seem to know her well, either. It seems like they would have been close in age (ES and I are the same age), but I get the impression there may have been some odd family dynamics. MSH is nice, but I have had very rare opportunity to talk with him - I don't push in, and he's reticent in mixed male/female company. MS completely ignores me.
YS and YSH and their daughters seem to dislike me strongly. I do hold some very small animosity toward her from back when Jay was ill. They live only 30 minutes down the road from us, and several times when Jay fell during the night and I couldn't get him up, I called them to ask for help, and not only did they not answer the phone, but they didn't return the call. (That was before I invented my version of the fireman's lift and could get his 6'3" 245 pounds off the floor and onto the bed myself.)
Before Jay and I were married, when Jay's father came down our way to visit, he always stayed with them. After we were married I suggested that he could stay with us half the times. Pow! We got him 100%! YSH didn't like him, and grabbed the opportunity to pass him off entirely on us.
When I took Jay to the hospice wing when he was in the final stages, I called YS and said that if she wanted to see him before he died (she didn't visit him at home the whole last year) she should come now. Her response was "Oh, well, we've heard that before", and she didn't come.
Jay always said YS seemed to have no opinions of her own. She is in thrall to her husband, and likes or dislikes as he dictates. Jay and I found the two of them incredibly boring. Their only topics of conversation are their girls and not-so-amusing stories abut their animals - an iguana, somewhere between five and seven cats, and three greyhounds - and the three greyhounds go with them everywhere, regardless of their host's preferences.
I wonder if they've ever had an original idea between them.
Anyway, they weren't as polite in their ignoring of me as MS. MS simply didn't see me. YS and YSH, and their daughters, actively shut me out. They didn't look at me, literally turned their backs, ignored any comments I tried to contribute to conversation. It was a very obvious shunning.
Ok, I can see where there might be some old wounds that haven't healed. Jay and I did not initiate contact, back when, as much as maybe we should have (but good grief, they're so BORING!), and there were a few incidents. But nothing that should earn me this animosity.
There's only one thing I can think of, and it bothers me that I even think it, but it's there. I am in the old man's will to inherit Jay's share of his estate. I have not seen the will, so I don't know whether the estate is distributed among the four siblings (three sisters and me), or whether it's shared among the grandchildren, too, and I have no idea how much is involved (although I suspect it is considerable). Worse, ES and I are named as the executors.
I know enough about YSH to know that this galls him to the core. That I am in the will, set to inherit as much as his wife.
I really think that's it.
Happy 90th birthday, Dad. Please have many more.
.
I'm sitting in a hotel room in Rochester, NY, suffering an optical migraine, and wishing I could be anywhere else.
I arrived about 7 pm and went directly to the father-in-law's house. Jay's father. I guess he's technically not my FIL any more, I don't know, I sure can't call him my late FIL, and "my late husband's father" is so awkward. Well, anyway, most of the first and second level blood clan was there. Youngest sister (YS) and her husband (YSH) and two daughters, middle sister (MS) and her husband (MSH) and two daughters, and eldest sister (ES) and her husband (ESH).
Of them all, I like ESH best. He's smart and reasonable. ES is also nice, except when she gets insistent, and usually any unpleasantness blows over quickly. She's very like her father - figures that once she's thought something out, she's obviously right and any additional information is superfluous. She'll ride right over objections. Other than that we get along ok. She appreciates all I did for her little brother.
MS I don't know at all. Oddly, Jay didn't seem to know her well, either. It seems like they would have been close in age (ES and I are the same age), but I get the impression there may have been some odd family dynamics. MSH is nice, but I have had very rare opportunity to talk with him - I don't push in, and he's reticent in mixed male/female company. MS completely ignores me.
YS and YSH and their daughters seem to dislike me strongly. I do hold some very small animosity toward her from back when Jay was ill. They live only 30 minutes down the road from us, and several times when Jay fell during the night and I couldn't get him up, I called them to ask for help, and not only did they not answer the phone, but they didn't return the call. (That was before I invented my version of the fireman's lift and could get his 6'3" 245 pounds off the floor and onto the bed myself.)
Before Jay and I were married, when Jay's father came down our way to visit, he always stayed with them. After we were married I suggested that he could stay with us half the times. Pow! We got him 100%! YSH didn't like him, and grabbed the opportunity to pass him off entirely on us.
When I took Jay to the hospice wing when he was in the final stages, I called YS and said that if she wanted to see him before he died (she didn't visit him at home the whole last year) she should come now. Her response was "Oh, well, we've heard that before", and she didn't come.
Jay always said YS seemed to have no opinions of her own. She is in thrall to her husband, and likes or dislikes as he dictates. Jay and I found the two of them incredibly boring. Their only topics of conversation are their girls and not-so-amusing stories abut their animals - an iguana, somewhere between five and seven cats, and three greyhounds - and the three greyhounds go with them everywhere, regardless of their host's preferences.
I wonder if they've ever had an original idea between them.
Anyway, they weren't as polite in their ignoring of me as MS. MS simply didn't see me. YS and YSH, and their daughters, actively shut me out. They didn't look at me, literally turned their backs, ignored any comments I tried to contribute to conversation. It was a very obvious shunning.
Ok, I can see where there might be some old wounds that haven't healed. Jay and I did not initiate contact, back when, as much as maybe we should have (but good grief, they're so BORING!), and there were a few incidents. But nothing that should earn me this animosity.
There's only one thing I can think of, and it bothers me that I even think it, but it's there. I am in the old man's will to inherit Jay's share of his estate. I have not seen the will, so I don't know whether the estate is distributed among the four siblings (three sisters and me), or whether it's shared among the grandchildren, too, and I have no idea how much is involved (although I suspect it is considerable). Worse, ES and I are named as the executors.
I know enough about YSH to know that this galls him to the core. That I am in the will, set to inherit as much as his wife.
I really think that's it.
Happy 90th birthday, Dad. Please have many more.
.
Friday, May 11, 2007
1242 Taking My Rotten Chest to Rochester
Friday, May 11, 2007
I am so sick. Miserable. We're in the "coughing so hard I wet my pants" stage now. Last night Miss Thunderfoot was so worried about me she kept patting my hand every time I managed to fall asleep. (Thank you for your concern sweet kitty, but sleep is a GOOD thing....) I can't believe I have to drive to Rochester, a six-hour trip, tomorrow.
Calling Jay's eldest sister and telling her I have to cancel because I'm sick is simply NOT an option. Two of Jay's three sisters don't like me, I don't know why, and the third, the eldest, does at least think I was very good for Jay, but she has the kind of management personality that will not accept "no" as an answer for anything she wants, and she can get bitchy. She can be maddening.
So telling them I'm sick won't fly. I'll have to go and show them that I shouldn't be there but cared enough to make the effort.
A nice neat package of virus. Perfect gift for the father-in-law's 90th birthday. I'll stick a bow on my nose.
I'll go to the party at the church, and a backyard picnic, but I probably shouldn't go into his house.
I haven't been out of my house all week, so I haven't got a card or gift, either. I'll have to do that this evening, which means going across the river to the mall. Most of today has been spent waiting for the yearly visit from the furnace cleaning guy, and I'm already tired. I have NO ideas for a gift. What do you get a 90-year-old who has everything, can't see well, can't hear well, has no interests, no short-term memory, and flakes out by 4 pm every day anyway? He won't notice if I get him nothing, but the sisters will.
I want to "call in sick", and not just because of the cold.
.
I am so sick. Miserable. We're in the "coughing so hard I wet my pants" stage now. Last night Miss Thunderfoot was so worried about me she kept patting my hand every time I managed to fall asleep. (Thank you for your concern sweet kitty, but sleep is a GOOD thing....) I can't believe I have to drive to Rochester, a six-hour trip, tomorrow.
Calling Jay's eldest sister and telling her I have to cancel because I'm sick is simply NOT an option. Two of Jay's three sisters don't like me, I don't know why, and the third, the eldest, does at least think I was very good for Jay, but she has the kind of management personality that will not accept "no" as an answer for anything she wants, and she can get bitchy. She can be maddening.
So telling them I'm sick won't fly. I'll have to go and show them that I shouldn't be there but cared enough to make the effort.
A nice neat package of virus. Perfect gift for the father-in-law's 90th birthday. I'll stick a bow on my nose.
I'll go to the party at the church, and a backyard picnic, but I probably shouldn't go into his house.
I haven't been out of my house all week, so I haven't got a card or gift, either. I'll have to do that this evening, which means going across the river to the mall. Most of today has been spent waiting for the yearly visit from the furnace cleaning guy, and I'm already tired. I have NO ideas for a gift. What do you get a 90-year-old who has everything, can't see well, can't hear well, has no interests, no short-term memory, and flakes out by 4 pm every day anyway? He won't notice if I get him nothing, but the sisters will.
I want to "call in sick", and not just because of the cold.
.
1241 Four non-PC Jokes to Offend Everyone
Friday, May 11, 2007
Three minute management lesson:
Lesson One:
An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing. A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, "Can I also sit like you and do nothing?" The eagle answered: "Sure, why not." So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested.
All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.
Management Lesson: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.
Lesson Two:
A turkey was chatting with a bull. "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, "but I haven't got the energy." Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings? replied the bull. They're packed with nutrients. "
The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.
He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.
Management Lesson: Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.
Lesson Three:
A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold, the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field. While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him. As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.
A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.
Management Lesson:
1. Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.
2. Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.
3. And when you're in deep shit, it's best to keep your mouth shut!
__________________________________________________
Jokes to offend everyone
What do you call two Mexicans playing basketball?
Juan on Juan .
What is a Yankee?
The same as a quickie, but a guy can do it alone.
What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover ?
The position of the dirt bag.
Why is divorce so expensive?
Because it's worth it.
Why is air a lot like sex?
Because it's no big deal unless you're not getting any.
What do you call a smart blonde?
A golden retriever.
What do attorneys use for birth control?
Their personalities.
What's the difference between a girlfriend and wife?
10 years and 45 lbs.
What's the difference between a boyfriend and husband?
45 minutes.
What's the fastest way to a man's heart?
Through his chest with a sharp knife.
Why do men want to marry virgins?
They can't stand criticism.
Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?
Because those men already have boyfriends.
What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog?
After a year, the dog is still excited to see you.
Why do men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving.
What did the blonde say when she found out she was pregnant?
"Are you sure it's mine?"
Why does Mike Tyson cry during sex?
Mace will do that to you.
Why did OJ Simpson want to move to West Virginia ?
Everyone has the same DNA.
Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?
Breasts don't have eyes.
Why do drivers' education classes in Redneck schools use the car only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?
Because on Tuesday and Thursday, the Sex Ed class uses it.
Where does an Irish family go on vacation?
A different bar.
What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?
A speech impediment.
What's the difference between a southern zoo and a northern zoo?
A southern zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage along with a recipe.
How do you get a sweet 80-year-old lady to say the F word?
Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*!
What's the difference between a northern fairytale and a southern fairytale?
A northern fairytale begins "Once upon a time ..." A southern fairytale begins "Y'all ain't gonna believe this s**t...."
Why is there no Disneyland in Japan ?
No one's tall enough to go on the good rides.
_________________________________________________
A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."
The woman below replied, "You're in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You're between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude."
"You must be in IT," said the balloonist.
"I am," replied the woman, "How did you know?"
"Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is technically correct, but I've no idea what to make of your information and the fact is I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help at all. If anything, you've delayed my trip."
The woman below responded, "You must be in Management."
"I am," replied the balloonist, "but how did you know?"
"Well," said the woman, "you don't know where you are or where you're going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise, which you've no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it's my fault."
_______________________________________________________
The Top 17 Ways to Tell Someone Their Fly Is Unzipped:
You've got Windows on your laptop.
Sailor Ned's trying to take a little shore leave.
Your dork is ajar.
Quasimodo needs to go back in the tower and tend to his bells.
I can see your Gap dancers.
Paging Mr. Johnson... Paging Mr. Johnson...
Your pod bay door is open, Hal.
Elvis Junior has left the building!
Mini Me is making a break for the escape pod.
Ensign Hanes is reporting a hull breach on the lower deck, sir.
Captain, sensors detect a wormhole in the forward quadrant!
Lil' Shaq's at the free show line.
You've got your fly set for "Monica" instead of "Hillary."
Your closet door is open and Donato's peeking out.
You've got a security breach at Los Pantalones.
I see you have an opening in senior management.
and the Number 1 Way to Tell Someone Their Fly Is Unzipped...
Our next guest is someone who needs no introduction.
.
Three minute management lesson:
Lesson One:
An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing. A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, "Can I also sit like you and do nothing?" The eagle answered: "Sure, why not." So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested.
All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.
Management Lesson: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.
Lesson Two:
A turkey was chatting with a bull. "I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree," sighed the turkey, "but I haven't got the energy." Well, why don't you nibble on some of my droppings? replied the bull. They're packed with nutrients. "
The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.
He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.
Management Lesson: Bullshit might get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.
Lesson Three:
A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold, the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field. While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him. As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy.
A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.
Management Lesson:
1. Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.
2. Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.
3. And when you're in deep shit, it's best to keep your mouth shut!
__________________________________________________
Jokes to offend everyone
What do you call two Mexicans playing basketball?
Juan on Juan .
What is a Yankee?
The same as a quickie, but a guy can do it alone.
What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover ?
The position of the dirt bag.
Why is divorce so expensive?
Because it's worth it.
Why is air a lot like sex?
Because it's no big deal unless you're not getting any.
What do you call a smart blonde?
A golden retriever.
What do attorneys use for birth control?
Their personalities.
What's the difference between a girlfriend and wife?
10 years and 45 lbs.
What's the difference between a boyfriend and husband?
45 minutes.
What's the fastest way to a man's heart?
Through his chest with a sharp knife.
Why do men want to marry virgins?
They can't stand criticism.
Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?
Because those men already have boyfriends.
What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog?
After a year, the dog is still excited to see you.
Why do men chase women they have no intention of marrying?
The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving.
What did the blonde say when she found out she was pregnant?
"Are you sure it's mine?"
Why does Mike Tyson cry during sex?
Mace will do that to you.
Why did OJ Simpson want to move to West Virginia ?
Everyone has the same DNA.
Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?
Breasts don't have eyes.
Why do drivers' education classes in Redneck schools use the car only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?
Because on Tuesday and Thursday, the Sex Ed class uses it.
Where does an Irish family go on vacation?
A different bar.
What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?
A speech impediment.
What's the difference between a southern zoo and a northern zoo?
A southern zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage along with a recipe.
How do you get a sweet 80-year-old lady to say the F word?
Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*!
What's the difference between a northern fairytale and a southern fairytale?
A northern fairytale begins "Once upon a time ..." A southern fairytale begins "Y'all ain't gonna believe this s**t...."
Why is there no Disneyland in Japan ?
No one's tall enough to go on the good rides.
_________________________________________________
A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost. He reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He descended a bit more and shouted, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."
The woman below replied, "You're in a hot air balloon hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You're between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude."
"You must be in IT," said the balloonist.
"I am," replied the woman, "How did you know?"
"Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is technically correct, but I've no idea what to make of your information and the fact is I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help at all. If anything, you've delayed my trip."
The woman below responded, "You must be in Management."
"I am," replied the balloonist, "but how did you know?"
"Well," said the woman, "you don't know where you are or where you're going. You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise, which you've no idea how to keep, and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it's my fault."
_______________________________________________________
The Top 17 Ways to Tell Someone Their Fly Is Unzipped:
You've got Windows on your laptop.
Sailor Ned's trying to take a little shore leave.
Your dork is ajar.
Quasimodo needs to go back in the tower and tend to his bells.
I can see your Gap dancers.
Paging Mr. Johnson... Paging Mr. Johnson...
Your pod bay door is open, Hal.
Elvis Junior has left the building!
Mini Me is making a break for the escape pod.
Ensign Hanes is reporting a hull breach on the lower deck, sir.
Captain, sensors detect a wormhole in the forward quadrant!
Lil' Shaq's at the free show line.
You've got your fly set for "Monica" instead of "Hillary."
Your closet door is open and Donato's peeking out.
You've got a security breach at Los Pantalones.
I see you have an opening in senior management.
and the Number 1 Way to Tell Someone Their Fly Is Unzipped...
Our next guest is someone who needs no introduction.
.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
1240 Cold Progress
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Cold has gone from "wet" to "dry" phase. Dry throat, dry burning nose, heavy cough with nastiness.
Time to move from decongestant to expectorant? This is another time I miss Jay. He always told me what to take, and he was always right.
I just hope it doesn't go into my sinuses. That hurts, and lasts so long.
.
Cold has gone from "wet" to "dry" phase. Dry throat, dry burning nose, heavy cough with nastiness.
Time to move from decongestant to expectorant? This is another time I miss Jay. He always told me what to take, and he was always right.
I just hope it doesn't go into my sinuses. That hurts, and lasts so long.
.
1239 Shout Out
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Hey Lady! Yeah, you. The one who turned comments off. You got awfully cryptic there, so I don't know exactly what's going on, but it's so very different from your optimism and pride of only a short time ago.
You got stomped? From one direction, or more than one?
Since I know none of the details, any comment I'd make is probably worthless. But One Thing I have learned is that when something goes wrong, especially in a work or social relationship, it is seldom the sole fault of only one of the parties. Almost always, the other person has problems, too, that make it difficult or impossible for them to ... whatever ... regardless of what you are or say or do, even if you were perfect. Everyone has limitations.
So please don't beat yourself up. You are intelligent, capable, strong, pretty, gentle, appreciative of beauty, honest .... fill in the blanks. And when there's a problem with another person, you MUST NOT ACCEPT ALL THE BLAME!! They have some fault, too.
Get mad, and get even by finding happiness without them.
(Yeah! Take that, Roman!)
.
Hey Lady! Yeah, you. The one who turned comments off. You got awfully cryptic there, so I don't know exactly what's going on, but it's so very different from your optimism and pride of only a short time ago.
You got stomped? From one direction, or more than one?
Since I know none of the details, any comment I'd make is probably worthless. But One Thing I have learned is that when something goes wrong, especially in a work or social relationship, it is seldom the sole fault of only one of the parties. Almost always, the other person has problems, too, that make it difficult or impossible for them to ... whatever ... regardless of what you are or say or do, even if you were perfect. Everyone has limitations.
So please don't beat yourself up. You are intelligent, capable, strong, pretty, gentle, appreciative of beauty, honest .... fill in the blanks. And when there's a problem with another person, you MUST NOT ACCEPT ALL THE BLAME!! They have some fault, too.
Get mad, and get even by finding happiness without them.
(Yeah! Take that, Roman!)
.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
1238 Sick
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Sick. Cotton chest, fire throat, pounding head, torrent nose, knotted muscles. Misery. No museum today. Long hot bubble bath.
Sick. Cotton chest, fire throat, pounding head, torrent nose, knotted muscles. Misery. No museum today. Long hot bubble bath.
1237 Thank You
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
This is an open letter of thanks to The Queen.
If you hadn't written the post about the BNL cruise, I would not have had an excuse to contact The Man after the NJ Mensa gathering where I met him, and where he casually mentioned having been on that cruise. The opportunity would have been lost.
Except for his amazing mind, he's completely 180 degrees in every way from what I thought I was looking for in a man, but I'm discovering that, just as in programming, your requirements document doesn't always describe what you really want or need.
Even if this doesn't work out in the long run (I'm being cautious) I've enjoyed the past two months enormously,
so,
thank you sincerely for the introduction, and for restoring confidence and hope.
~~Silk
This is an open letter of thanks to The Queen.
If you hadn't written the post about the BNL cruise, I would not have had an excuse to contact The Man after the NJ Mensa gathering where I met him, and where he casually mentioned having been on that cruise. The opportunity would have been lost.
Except for his amazing mind, he's completely 180 degrees in every way from what I thought I was looking for in a man, but I'm discovering that, just as in programming, your requirements document doesn't always describe what you really want or need.
Even if this doesn't work out in the long run (I'm being cautious) I've enjoyed the past two months enormously,
so,
thank you sincerely for the introduction, and for restoring confidence and hope.
~~Silk
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
1236 Not a Museum Day
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
I planned to go in to the museum today to attempt to beat the membership data base into submission, but the Hairless Hunk arrived to work the side yard some more, so I used that as an excuse to stay home. I'll take any excuse.
Besides, I developed a hot spot in my throat last night, and today it's a full-blown sore throat. Bleck.
It really hurts now, because I spent the last 2 1/2 hours on the phone. The Man, then Daughter, then Roman.
At least I remembered to hit the "record" button for Boston Legal.
I can watch it tomorrow while I'm lying in bed choking on strep.
.
I planned to go in to the museum today to attempt to beat the membership data base into submission, but the Hairless Hunk arrived to work the side yard some more, so I used that as an excuse to stay home. I'll take any excuse.
Besides, I developed a hot spot in my throat last night, and today it's a full-blown sore throat. Bleck.
It really hurts now, because I spent the last 2 1/2 hours on the phone. The Man, then Daughter, then Roman.
At least I remembered to hit the "record" button for Boston Legal.
I can watch it tomorrow while I'm lying in bed choking on strep.
.
1235 Language Skills
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Carl Sagan once said, "It is of interest to note that while some dolphins are reported to have learned English -- up to fifty words used in correct context -- no human being has been reported to have learned dolphinese."
Perhaps because dolphins didn't insist, or are rotten teachers.
I know dozens of words in "cat". I don't speak it well, but I understand it.
Sometimes I think my life depends on getting it right.
.
Carl Sagan once said, "It is of interest to note that while some dolphins are reported to have learned English -- up to fifty words used in correct context -- no human being has been reported to have learned dolphinese."
Perhaps because dolphins didn't insist, or are rotten teachers.
I know dozens of words in "cat". I don't speak it well, but I understand it.
Sometimes I think my life depends on getting it right.
.
Monday, May 07, 2007
1234 Home Again
Monday, May 7, 2007
Tired. Three days behind on everything. Rochester next weekend, for Jay's father's 90th birthday. Laundry to do before then. Sigh.
I left a hotel in Edison, NJ, this morning, drove all the way to Suffern, NY, stopped at the first rest stop on the Thruway for ladies' room and tea, and realized I'd left my robe in the hotel room. I WANT that robe. I knew if I didn't get it back before the cleaning crew left, I'd never see it again.
The robe was a gift, and I took it with me specifically as a kind of exorcism. Which point would be lost if I then lost the robe. I couldn't allow it to escape.
Frantic phone calls (I didn't know exactly what exit to take off 287 to find the hotel, and I didn't have the phone number for the hotel). Had to go all the way to Harriman before I could get turned around on the Thruway, back to Edison. They still had my robe, although I had to argue to get it. The woman at the desk insisted I had been in a room on the first floor, and I insisted it was the second floor. I distinctly remember the flippin' elevator! She made me actually take her to the room. Then she finally found the robe in a bag with the room number on it, in the lost-n-found basket. The Man had made three calls to the hotel, asking about the robe, before I even got there - you'd think she'd have looked before arguing with me.
Briefly considered going south to visit Daughter, but it was 2 pm ish then, and I'd have to wait for her to get off work. Gave it up. Turned around again and headed back home. Stopped in Suffern again, finally got my tea. It was so hot and the "medium" was so large, it took me almost an hour to drink it. Got home at 5 pm.
Tired.
The driving wasn't the problem. Driving is not tiring. Not sleeping well three nights in a row is tiring.
Habitat called this evening. I've committed to insulation and drywall on Tuesdays in May, starting on the 15th. I wonder if I'd have committed to that if I weren't tired.
.
Tired. Three days behind on everything. Rochester next weekend, for Jay's father's 90th birthday. Laundry to do before then. Sigh.
I left a hotel in Edison, NJ, this morning, drove all the way to Suffern, NY, stopped at the first rest stop on the Thruway for ladies' room and tea, and realized I'd left my robe in the hotel room. I WANT that robe. I knew if I didn't get it back before the cleaning crew left, I'd never see it again.
The robe was a gift, and I took it with me specifically as a kind of exorcism. Which point would be lost if I then lost the robe. I couldn't allow it to escape.
Frantic phone calls (I didn't know exactly what exit to take off 287 to find the hotel, and I didn't have the phone number for the hotel). Had to go all the way to Harriman before I could get turned around on the Thruway, back to Edison. They still had my robe, although I had to argue to get it. The woman at the desk insisted I had been in a room on the first floor, and I insisted it was the second floor. I distinctly remember the flippin' elevator! She made me actually take her to the room. Then she finally found the robe in a bag with the room number on it, in the lost-n-found basket. The Man had made three calls to the hotel, asking about the robe, before I even got there - you'd think she'd have looked before arguing with me.
Briefly considered going south to visit Daughter, but it was 2 pm ish then, and I'd have to wait for her to get off work. Gave it up. Turned around again and headed back home. Stopped in Suffern again, finally got my tea. It was so hot and the "medium" was so large, it took me almost an hour to drink it. Got home at 5 pm.
Tired.
The driving wasn't the problem. Driving is not tiring. Not sleeping well three nights in a row is tiring.
Habitat called this evening. I've committed to insulation and drywall on Tuesdays in May, starting on the 15th. I wonder if I'd have committed to that if I weren't tired.
.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
1233 Spring Caravan
Saturday, May 5, 2007
It's a hair after midnight, but I'm still considering it Saturday. Posting from the host hotel for the Rakkasah Spring Caravan.
I got about 2 hours sleep last night (Friday night). I wanted to get to Somerset, NJ, by 2:00 pm, Willow was dancing at 2:37 pm, so I'd have to leave the house by a little before noon at the latest, so I'd have to get up by 10 am to take care of everything I'd have to do before leaving. Shouldn't have been a problem, except that at 3:30 am I decided I really needed the underskirt for the Assuit dress I want to wear Sunday, and it needed hemming. When I finally got to bed I was so worried about oversleeping that I couldn't fall asleep. Finally got to sleep about 8 am, and then - of course - slept through the alarm.
I flew around the house, and got out at 12:15 pm, and stopped by the bank ATM for money. The guy in line ahead of me took forever and didn't seem to do anything. When I was my turn, the ATM took my card, asked all the correct questions, then said thank you and gave me my card back. No money. So I had to go into the bank. Turns out the guy ahead of me had the same problem.
Now, I figure the cashier has to do two things: 1) find out if the ATM debited my account, and if so, cancel that transaction, and 2) gimme the money.
Instead, the cashier decided to find out what was wrong with the ATM and try to fix it. Agh! I don't have time for this! Gimme the money!
I didn't leave the village until 1 pm ish. This gave me 1.5 hours for a 2 hour trip. (Mapquest says 2 hrs 12 minutes, 135 miles.)
Now, I don't much speed. If the sign says 55, I do 55. Maybe 57 if I'm in a hurry, and I feel guilty about that. Today I did 80 in a 55 zone on an interstate limited-access highway (and if anyone in law enforcement is reading this, uh, I made that part up for the sake of the story). I made it in time to see Willow dance, with literally 2 minutes to spare. (So Mapquest must be wrong, because using their figures, I had to AVERAGE 90 mph.)
Spring Caravan is a bit different from the fall Rakkasah East, because this one is billed as Tribal Fusion. It's a different crowd, and a different style on the stage. I like it better.
As usual, I spent a bunch of money. I bought a beaded purse, some sheer beledi dresses, a dress similar to my purple SCA dress that looks so good on me, but in black and a smaller size, and some silver and stone (lapis, carnelian) necklace pendants. I can't feel guilty, because the prices are much much lower here than you'd find anywhere else. $40 for a caftan you'd pay $70 for online. $20 for beaded shawls you'd pay $50 for elsewhere. Last year I bought a cut velvet beaded and fringed opera coat for $50, and saw the exact same coat in an uptown Kingston store for $120. I would come to Rakkasah just to shop.
Sixteen of us went out for dinner, overwhelmed a Ruby Tuesday, "Do you have reservations?', "Uh, no, but it's only 4:30, you can't be that busy...." Back for more performances after dinner. Something funny - as Willow was getting up from the table, her fingers got pinched between two chairs. The general reaction was, "Oh well, it's ok, who cares, you've already danced."
Party in the hotel bar after the show paused for the night. Dance floor full of belly dancers. Djinn played. Every male who had a drum joined in. One group of women started up an ATS group on the lower floor, group improv via hand signals, and that was fun to watch. Usual Rakkasah prices did not apply - my one Amaretto on the rocks was $10.43.
Thence to bed.
.
It's a hair after midnight, but I'm still considering it Saturday. Posting from the host hotel for the Rakkasah Spring Caravan.
I got about 2 hours sleep last night (Friday night). I wanted to get to Somerset, NJ, by 2:00 pm, Willow was dancing at 2:37 pm, so I'd have to leave the house by a little before noon at the latest, so I'd have to get up by 10 am to take care of everything I'd have to do before leaving. Shouldn't have been a problem, except that at 3:30 am I decided I really needed the underskirt for the Assuit dress I want to wear Sunday, and it needed hemming. When I finally got to bed I was so worried about oversleeping that I couldn't fall asleep. Finally got to sleep about 8 am, and then - of course - slept through the alarm.
I flew around the house, and got out at 12:15 pm, and stopped by the bank ATM for money. The guy in line ahead of me took forever and didn't seem to do anything. When I was my turn, the ATM took my card, asked all the correct questions, then said thank you and gave me my card back. No money. So I had to go into the bank. Turns out the guy ahead of me had the same problem.
Now, I figure the cashier has to do two things: 1) find out if the ATM debited my account, and if so, cancel that transaction, and 2) gimme the money.
Instead, the cashier decided to find out what was wrong with the ATM and try to fix it. Agh! I don't have time for this! Gimme the money!
I didn't leave the village until 1 pm ish. This gave me 1.5 hours for a 2 hour trip. (Mapquest says 2 hrs 12 minutes, 135 miles.)
Now, I don't much speed. If the sign says 55, I do 55. Maybe 57 if I'm in a hurry, and I feel guilty about that. Today I did 80 in a 55 zone on an interstate limited-access highway (and if anyone in law enforcement is reading this, uh, I made that part up for the sake of the story). I made it in time to see Willow dance, with literally 2 minutes to spare. (So Mapquest must be wrong, because using their figures, I had to AVERAGE 90 mph.)
Spring Caravan is a bit different from the fall Rakkasah East, because this one is billed as Tribal Fusion. It's a different crowd, and a different style on the stage. I like it better.
As usual, I spent a bunch of money. I bought a beaded purse, some sheer beledi dresses, a dress similar to my purple SCA dress that looks so good on me, but in black and a smaller size, and some silver and stone (lapis, carnelian) necklace pendants. I can't feel guilty, because the prices are much much lower here than you'd find anywhere else. $40 for a caftan you'd pay $70 for online. $20 for beaded shawls you'd pay $50 for elsewhere. Last year I bought a cut velvet beaded and fringed opera coat for $50, and saw the exact same coat in an uptown Kingston store for $120. I would come to Rakkasah just to shop.
Sixteen of us went out for dinner, overwhelmed a Ruby Tuesday, "Do you have reservations?', "Uh, no, but it's only 4:30, you can't be that busy...." Back for more performances after dinner. Something funny - as Willow was getting up from the table, her fingers got pinched between two chairs. The general reaction was, "Oh well, it's ok, who cares, you've already danced."
Party in the hotel bar after the show paused for the night. Dance floor full of belly dancers. Djinn played. Every male who had a drum joined in. One group of women started up an ATS group on the lower floor, group improv via hand signals, and that was fun to watch. Usual Rakkasah prices did not apply - my one Amaretto on the rocks was $10.43.
Thence to bed.
.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
1232 Moroccan
Friday, May 5, 2007
[Later edit - corrected spelling, added dancer's links.]
Lots of calls and paperwork today. Was forced to tell BOA that Jay was no longer living. Didn't tell them exactly how long I've been using credit cards still in his name. Heck, I'm making the payments, aren't I?
Moroccan dinner and belly dancers at Rive Gauche in uptown Kingston. FirstWoman and me. Dancers were Ayleeza and Barushka, both of whom I like. Julian on drums.
Got home late. Still have to hem a dress, and pack for tomorrow's trip to Rakkasah Spring Caravan tomorrow. Spending Sunday with The Man.
G'night.
[Later edit - corrected spelling, added dancer's links.]
Lots of calls and paperwork today. Was forced to tell BOA that Jay was no longer living. Didn't tell them exactly how long I've been using credit cards still in his name. Heck, I'm making the payments, aren't I?
Moroccan dinner and belly dancers at Rive Gauche in uptown Kingston. FirstWoman and me. Dancers were Ayleeza and Barushka, both of whom I like. Julian on drums.
Got home late. Still have to hem a dress, and pack for tomorrow's trip to Rakkasah Spring Caravan tomorrow. Spending Sunday with The Man.
G'night.
Friday, May 04, 2007
1231 Books
Friday, May 4, 2007
Got this off Roba's blog, who got it from Forsoothsayer’s blog, who got it from CairoGal.
Instructions: Look at the list of books below.
*Bold the ones you’ve read
*Italicize the ones you want to read
*Leave the ones that you aren’t interested in alone.
1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban(Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie(Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (George Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True(Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. Bible (well, most of it)
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrew Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolsoy)
64. Interview With A Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Helen Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down(Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth(Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)
Hey! You left out Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance!
Just because a book is in bold doesn't mean I remember anything about it. It does mean there's probably a copy of the book in the house somewhere.
.
Got this off Roba's blog, who got it from Forsoothsayer’s blog, who got it from CairoGal.
Instructions: Look at the list of books below.
*Bold the ones you’ve read
*Italicize the ones you want to read
*Leave the ones that you aren’t interested in alone.
1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban(Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie(Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (George Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True(Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. Bible (well, most of it)
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrew Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolsoy)
64. Interview With A Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Helen Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down(Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth(Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)
Hey! You left out Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance!
Just because a book is in bold doesn't mean I remember anything about it. It does mean there's probably a copy of the book in the house somewhere.
.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
1230 What Am I?
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Every once in a while someone will ask what religion I am.
I guess I'm technically not Christian, although a Puritan rearing tends to stick with you a while. Roman, when asked, would answer, "Well, I'm Jewish. She's ... uh ... something else." When I have to fill out a form in, say, a hospital or something, I check "none", because I don't want anyone in a collar visiting me. (They do anyway.) Or I'll write in "Pagan" just for the reaction it gets.
It's not that I have no beliefs - I do, and they are very strong. They just don't seem to fit any organized school. It's all mine, born of personal experience and revelation, and I believe it's as close to truth as I can get. It doesn't have a name. It's simple. Any other system of belief out there that does have a name seems to attempt to get too detailed, tries to explain everything, tries to make people feel good, tries to make it easy, and ends up too human.
Some things from named systems do fit into my system, such as
I suppose I've written about this topic before. I didn't go back and look. It might be different from what I've said before, but that's not evidence of conflict, only growth. And that's ok. That's me. That's what's supposed to happen.
.
Every once in a while someone will ask what religion I am.
I guess I'm technically not Christian, although a Puritan rearing tends to stick with you a while. Roman, when asked, would answer, "Well, I'm Jewish. She's ... uh ... something else." When I have to fill out a form in, say, a hospital or something, I check "none", because I don't want anyone in a collar visiting me. (They do anyway.) Or I'll write in "Pagan" just for the reaction it gets.
It's not that I have no beliefs - I do, and they are very strong. They just don't seem to fit any organized school. It's all mine, born of personal experience and revelation, and I believe it's as close to truth as I can get. It doesn't have a name. It's simple. Any other system of belief out there that does have a name seems to attempt to get too detailed, tries to explain everything, tries to make people feel good, tries to make it easy, and ends up too human.
Some things from named systems do fit into my system, such as
- The integration of Naturalistic Pantheism
- The philosophy of Spinoza
- The ethics of Taoism
- The cycles and striving for enlightenment of Buddhism
- The reverence and care of Zoroastrianism
- The belief in the power of belief in Wicca
- The "God within", or "Inner Light", of the Quakers
I suppose I've written about this topic before. I didn't go back and look. It might be different from what I've said before, but that's not evidence of conflict, only growth. And that's ok. That's me. That's what's supposed to happen.
.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
1229 The Three Mensaketeers
Walking:
I'm never happy with photos of me. "They" say that you should thrust your head forward at the camera, to thin your face and make your neck look longer and smoother. Point a camera at me, and I pull my head back and tuck my chin. Bleck.
.
I'm never happy with photos of me. "They" say that you should thrust your head forward at the camera, to thin your face and make your neck look longer and smoother. Point a camera at me, and I pull my head back and tuck my chin. Bleck.
.
1228 Misery at the Museum
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
I went to the museum today. I'm getting busier, so I wanted to get as much done with membership today as I possibly could, so maybe I wouldn't have to go in again next week.
No such luck.
Thirty-three renewals had come in in April, so I had to send out thirty-three membership packets (and each of the eight-ish different levels get different packet contents). Also, I'd need to send out the reminders to those who need to renew in May. I figured it would take about four hours to do both, if nothing went wrong.
The data base went wrong. I could "find" last month's renewals, the count came to 33, but when I tried to print the address labels, the count shot to 133. That list was full of duplicates and bogus records. I spent an hour trying various combinations of requests, and gave up.
So then I decided to just do the reminders for May. That count came to 52! Fifty-two address labels to print and stick on envelopes, 52 copies of the "time to renew" letter, 52 copies of the membership form, 52 labels to print and stick on forms, 52 envelopes to stuff, 52 stamps to stick on, 52 flaps to lick and seal. Ack! Three hours!
So, I still have to do the renewals from last month, and now it looks like I'm going to have 50+ renewal checks and new members to process in June!
When I accepted this job and did the processing for February and March with the prior volunteer, we had all of 18 memberships in February, and 20 in March. It didn't look like that big a job.
Mother is not happy. Now I know why the previous volunteer wanted to get the job turned over to me before spring.
Russ is going to look at the data base and see if he can figure out what's wrong.
And I'm going to have to go in before the middle of next week to try again. The folks who sent in their checks in April will be very unhappy if they don't have their membership cards before the Shad Festival, but, well, I tried.
.
I went to the museum today. I'm getting busier, so I wanted to get as much done with membership today as I possibly could, so maybe I wouldn't have to go in again next week.
No such luck.
Thirty-three renewals had come in in April, so I had to send out thirty-three membership packets (and each of the eight-ish different levels get different packet contents). Also, I'd need to send out the reminders to those who need to renew in May. I figured it would take about four hours to do both, if nothing went wrong.
The data base went wrong. I could "find" last month's renewals, the count came to 33, but when I tried to print the address labels, the count shot to 133. That list was full of duplicates and bogus records. I spent an hour trying various combinations of requests, and gave up.
So then I decided to just do the reminders for May. That count came to 52! Fifty-two address labels to print and stick on envelopes, 52 copies of the "time to renew" letter, 52 copies of the membership form, 52 labels to print and stick on forms, 52 envelopes to stuff, 52 stamps to stick on, 52 flaps to lick and seal. Ack! Three hours!
So, I still have to do the renewals from last month, and now it looks like I'm going to have 50+ renewal checks and new members to process in June!
When I accepted this job and did the processing for February and March with the prior volunteer, we had all of 18 memberships in February, and 20 in March. It didn't look like that big a job.
Mother is not happy. Now I know why the previous volunteer wanted to get the job turned over to me before spring.
Russ is going to look at the data base and see if he can figure out what's wrong.
And I'm going to have to go in before the middle of next week to try again. The folks who sent in their checks in April will be very unhappy if they don't have their membership cards before the Shad Festival, but, well, I tried.
.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
1227 WiFi Witchery
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Somehow I ended up still potting around the house at 5 am "last night". No problem. An advantage of retirement is that you can sleep in any time you want.
...Unless RSVP (Retired and Seniors' Volunteer Program) has your phone number.
They called at 10 am, need people to work at a children's day at the library in June. I said ok.
Then, on my way back to bed, that overnighted check arrived.
By then I was wide awake. Sigh.
I met Roman for an early dinner before his class, at a restaurant across the street from Ulster CCC. He suggested that I bring my laptop, because the classrooms have WiFi, and we could transfer the photos quickly (we both have dialup at home). I told him my WiFi hasn't worked for the past few weeks, but he said bring it anyway, maybe he could figure it out.
After dinner we went to his classroom, and the danged thing connected right up. No problem. It didn't work in the village up the road that has village-wide free WiFI, it didn't work in Piper's office, and it didn't work in Office Max, but it worked tonight at UCCC, when there was someone available to help me?
I don't understand.
When his class started I moved to the lounge and watched all the online videos I can't watch at home and downloaded some heavy-duty stuff. He visited during the mid-evening class break to make sure everything was still working, and then I left.
Ok, now I have to test this. On the way home, I went to that village with the free WiFi. Hardware found the signal, but "cannot establish a connection to the internet". Same problem as before.
Sigh.
I'll take it with me to NJ this weekend. If it doesn't work in the hotel, I'll scream.
.
Somehow I ended up still potting around the house at 5 am "last night". No problem. An advantage of retirement is that you can sleep in any time you want.
...Unless RSVP (Retired and Seniors' Volunteer Program) has your phone number.
They called at 10 am, need people to work at a children's day at the library in June. I said ok.
Then, on my way back to bed, that overnighted check arrived.
By then I was wide awake. Sigh.
I met Roman for an early dinner before his class, at a restaurant across the street from Ulster CCC. He suggested that I bring my laptop, because the classrooms have WiFi, and we could transfer the photos quickly (we both have dialup at home). I told him my WiFi hasn't worked for the past few weeks, but he said bring it anyway, maybe he could figure it out.
After dinner we went to his classroom, and the danged thing connected right up. No problem. It didn't work in the village up the road that has village-wide free WiFI, it didn't work in Piper's office, and it didn't work in Office Max, but it worked tonight at UCCC, when there was someone available to help me?
I don't understand.
When his class started I moved to the lounge and watched all the online videos I can't watch at home and downloaded some heavy-duty stuff. He visited during the mid-evening class break to make sure everything was still working, and then I left.
Ok, now I have to test this. On the way home, I went to that village with the free WiFi. Hardware found the signal, but "cannot establish a connection to the internet". Same problem as before.
Sigh.
I'll take it with me to NJ this weekend. If it doesn't work in the hotel, I'll scream.
.
1226 Wean the Brat!
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Montel is on (I like him - he's a nice guy - not bad to look at, either) and the topic is different theories of child raising.
There's a woman on who is a breast feeding bigot. "We're mammals, like cows and cats, that's what we're designed to do" etc. Fine. I agree. However, she breastfeeds until the child decides to stop, like four years or more. That's where she and I part ways.
Even a cow or a cat is smart enough to wean the babies as soon as they can handle adult food. I remember Suzy and her kittens. The five kittens, almost as big as she was by then, would gang up on her, chase her down, and hold her down to nurse. So Suzy started jumping up on the kitchen counter where the kittens couldn't get to her. I felt sorry for her, and let her stay there.
Baby mammals will nurse forever if you let them. It's an adult responsibility to wean them to adult food when it's appropriate.
That woman isn't as smart as my cat.
(I nursed Daughter for 10 months. She fought weaning tooth and nail, but I did my duty and switched her to carrots.)
.
Montel is on (I like him - he's a nice guy - not bad to look at, either) and the topic is different theories of child raising.
There's a woman on who is a breast feeding bigot. "We're mammals, like cows and cats, that's what we're designed to do" etc. Fine. I agree. However, she breastfeeds until the child decides to stop, like four years or more. That's where she and I part ways.
Even a cow or a cat is smart enough to wean the babies as soon as they can handle adult food. I remember Suzy and her kittens. The five kittens, almost as big as she was by then, would gang up on her, chase her down, and hold her down to nurse. So Suzy started jumping up on the kitchen counter where the kittens couldn't get to her. I felt sorry for her, and let her stay there.
Baby mammals will nurse forever if you let them. It's an adult responsibility to wean them to adult food when it's appropriate.
That woman isn't as smart as my cat.
(I nursed Daughter for 10 months. She fought weaning tooth and nail, but I did my duty and switched her to carrots.)
.
1225 Up and Down Monday
Monday, April 30, 2007
Yeah, ok, it's after 2 am on Tuesday, but I'm reporting Monday.
I was awakened by a call from Piper this morning. He (get this!) wanted to know how the date went last Wednesday. Duh? Well, he's been through the whole Roman mess and the online dating fiasco with me, so the idea of someone I actually want to see again must be fascinating to him. I have to be careful not to give him the guy's name, or he'll have him investigated. (He did that once before, and I could have killed him.)
We didn't talk business, so later I remembered that he had called to have a check cut for me, and I haven't received it yet, ten days later, so I stopped in his office to ask him to put a stop on it and have another issued. It will be overnighted to me. We talked for a while, then I went to the bank to deposit some checks, and found that my balance had dropped dangerously low. Thank goodness for overnight delivery!
Some minor shopping, and then a search for a ph balancer. Male readers, please skip the next paragraph.
Because I eat a lot of yogurt, and because my estrogen is low, my ph is off. Normally it isn't a problem, in fact it's good. I haven't had so much as a yeast infection in more than 20 years. But close proximity to testosterone wreaks havoc. A year ago I found a balancing cream that works wonders. Today I went to three pharmacies, and nobody had it. I couldn't even find a space on the shelf where it should have been. I was afraid they'd stopped making it. The pharmacists didn't know what I was talking about. I freaked. Sorta like Seinfeld's Elaine when they stopped making the sponge. Made for a bad mood.
Then I went to dinner with Angie, Zig, and Roman at a new Indian restaurant, Kismat, near Vassar, in Poughkeepsie. Today was Roman's last day at his day job. He has retired. (He'll still teach some evening classes.) I gave him a sentimental card and a gift.
Anyway, driving to Pok, I had got caught in a traffic jam caused by an accident, and had to use a route that took me through the city. Then, walking down the street looking for the restaurant, I twisted my right ankle - the one with the messed up nerves. I worry about injuring that ankle because I can't feel the real pain, the pain where an injury is, so I can keep walking on it and really mess it up. All during dinner I had periodic bolts of lightening shooting up my leg.
That didn't help the mood.
Roman was parked right outside the restaurant, and I was parked on a side street, so I walked him to his car, then set off for my own. He passed me and then stopped at the corner to offer me a ride to my car. There were people, Vassar students, standing on the corner waiting to cross. When I got to Roman's car, I opened the passenger door and said "Fifty dollars. A thousand for 'round the world."
I refused his offer of a ride, waved vaguely, "My car's just there", and he left. Actually, it was a block and a half down, and I'd forgotten about my ankle. The one I have to use on the accelerator.
That didn't help the mood, either.
Going through East Park on the way home, I noticed a huge new pharmacy, and on a hunch, I stopped in. They had it! I'd have liked to pull an Elaine, but I got smacked by short expiration dates, so I bought only two boxes.
Mood went up a jot.
When I got home, I remembered that I had forgotten to remind Roman that I wanted copies of the pictures he took Saturday, so I called him. We had a nice chat, during which I mentioned that I'd received the "Mommy Letter" for the Washington gathering, and the file was in a format I couldn't open, so he said to send it to him and he'd translate it. Which he did, within minutes. We also decided to meet for dinner before his class tomorrow.
Mood went up a bit more.
Then The Man called. He was driving to Virginia, for a meeting tomorrow. We talked for more than an hour. He's going to meet me at Rakkasah Spring Caravan next Sunday.
Mood shot up.
No more pain in the leg - there's only slight swelling below the ankle bone.
I'm happy.
.
Yeah, ok, it's after 2 am on Tuesday, but I'm reporting Monday.
I was awakened by a call from Piper this morning. He (get this!) wanted to know how the date went last Wednesday. Duh? Well, he's been through the whole Roman mess and the online dating fiasco with me, so the idea of someone I actually want to see again must be fascinating to him. I have to be careful not to give him the guy's name, or he'll have him investigated. (He did that once before, and I could have killed him.)
We didn't talk business, so later I remembered that he had called to have a check cut for me, and I haven't received it yet, ten days later, so I stopped in his office to ask him to put a stop on it and have another issued. It will be overnighted to me. We talked for a while, then I went to the bank to deposit some checks, and found that my balance had dropped dangerously low. Thank goodness for overnight delivery!
Some minor shopping, and then a search for a ph balancer. Male readers, please skip the next paragraph.
Because I eat a lot of yogurt, and because my estrogen is low, my ph is off. Normally it isn't a problem, in fact it's good. I haven't had so much as a yeast infection in more than 20 years. But close proximity to testosterone wreaks havoc. A year ago I found a balancing cream that works wonders. Today I went to three pharmacies, and nobody had it. I couldn't even find a space on the shelf where it should have been. I was afraid they'd stopped making it. The pharmacists didn't know what I was talking about. I freaked. Sorta like Seinfeld's Elaine when they stopped making the sponge. Made for a bad mood.
Then I went to dinner with Angie, Zig, and Roman at a new Indian restaurant, Kismat, near Vassar, in Poughkeepsie. Today was Roman's last day at his day job. He has retired. (He'll still teach some evening classes.) I gave him a sentimental card and a gift.
Anyway, driving to Pok, I had got caught in a traffic jam caused by an accident, and had to use a route that took me through the city. Then, walking down the street looking for the restaurant, I twisted my right ankle - the one with the messed up nerves. I worry about injuring that ankle because I can't feel the real pain, the pain where an injury is, so I can keep walking on it and really mess it up. All during dinner I had periodic bolts of lightening shooting up my leg.
That didn't help the mood.
Roman was parked right outside the restaurant, and I was parked on a side street, so I walked him to his car, then set off for my own. He passed me and then stopped at the corner to offer me a ride to my car. There were people, Vassar students, standing on the corner waiting to cross. When I got to Roman's car, I opened the passenger door and said "Fifty dollars. A thousand for 'round the world."
I refused his offer of a ride, waved vaguely, "My car's just there", and he left. Actually, it was a block and a half down, and I'd forgotten about my ankle. The one I have to use on the accelerator.
That didn't help the mood, either.
Going through East Park on the way home, I noticed a huge new pharmacy, and on a hunch, I stopped in. They had it! I'd have liked to pull an Elaine, but I got smacked by short expiration dates, so I bought only two boxes.
Mood went up a jot.
When I got home, I remembered that I had forgotten to remind Roman that I wanted copies of the pictures he took Saturday, so I called him. We had a nice chat, during which I mentioned that I'd received the "Mommy Letter" for the Washington gathering, and the file was in a format I couldn't open, so he said to send it to him and he'd translate it. Which he did, within minutes. We also decided to meet for dinner before his class tomorrow.
Mood went up a bit more.
Then The Man called. He was driving to Virginia, for a meeting tomorrow. We talked for more than an hour. He's going to meet me at Rakkasah Spring Caravan next Sunday.
Mood shot up.
No more pain in the leg - there's only slight swelling below the ankle bone.
I'm happy.
.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
1224 Blink?
Sunday, April 29, 2007
At Spring Plowing.
I was walking toward the barns, and two rather nice-looking gray-haired men were walking away from the barns. As we approached on the road, the one on the left was looking at me, straight into my eyes. As we neared, he gave me a big smile. I smiled back. What the heck. He was pretty. And then I gave him a slow blink just as we passed.
Overheard from behind me:
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"She blinked at me."
"She winked at you?"
"No, she blinked at me!"
"She blinked? What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure...."
They had stopped. I kept walking.
Yeah, ok, I flirt. I just ain't got no followthrough.
Giggle.
.
At Spring Plowing.
I was walking toward the barns, and two rather nice-looking gray-haired men were walking away from the barns. As we approached on the road, the one on the left was looking at me, straight into my eyes. As we neared, he gave me a big smile. I smiled back. What the heck. He was pretty. And then I gave him a slow blink just as we passed.
Overheard from behind me:
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"She blinked at me."
"She winked at you?"
"No, she blinked at me!"
"She blinked? What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure...."
They had stopped. I kept walking.
Yeah, ok, I flirt. I just ain't got no followthrough.
Giggle.
.
1223 Yeah, Nature Recovers
Sunday, April 29, 2007
I've been reading and hearing a lot lately about bees disappearing. I was reminded again when I walked out the door this morning and passed the rhododendron. At this time of year the bush usually sounds like a woodworking factory, all the buzzing of bees in the blossoms. It was buzzing this morning, but at low volume. I counted. Only seven bees. There should be fifty times that.
So, yeah, there's something going on.
I'd been hearing for a long time about a parasite that was killing off hives, but there's a new theory, a complication, that's worse. Some are blaming people who grow genetically modified or patented crops, who don't want "wild" bees spreading random pollen through their crops, so they are using pesticide to specifically target bees. They don't feel guilty about it because they are merely protecting their crops.
No one raindrop ever feels responsible for the flood.
At one extreme are the doom-and-gloom people who say that if the bees die, we die. No more fruits and vegetables. In the middle are the people who shrug and say, oh, well, there's still grains. This morning on NPR I heard the other extreme, the cycle theory, that bee populations naturally fall periodically, that records from the 19th century show that farmers were worried about bees disappearing. They called it "the disappearing disease". And therefore there's nothing to worry about.
The "natural cycle" theory is also used by people who want to shrug off global warming. "Nature will correct. Nature will recover. She always has and she always will."
Uh, yeah. But do they forget that Nature doesn't much care about us as a species? That sometimes, even left on her own, her recoveries are cataclysmic? She'll go on, the Earth will go on, but possibly in a quite different mix. We are not that important to Nature. Given the almost overwhelming success of pathogens, I'm not sure we're all that important to God, either. Don't forget they're His creations, too. Maybe His favored pets. Maybe we're pet food, and we don't realize it. Gotta keep the "herd" (us) contented.
Well, that's not where I was headed. Where was I - oh, yeah, Nature recovering from cycles that disturb us.
We have to remember that in the past, human influence on Nature didn't tip any balances. She did her thing without interference. That's the way she was set up. Things got to a certain point, and swoop! they came around again to balance. Nothing in the past several thousand years (when was that last ice age?) has gone beyond a tipping point.
Human influence and interference can quite possibly push Nature past a tipping point too quickly for her to react, to recover naturally.
And THEN we die.
.
I've been reading and hearing a lot lately about bees disappearing. I was reminded again when I walked out the door this morning and passed the rhododendron. At this time of year the bush usually sounds like a woodworking factory, all the buzzing of bees in the blossoms. It was buzzing this morning, but at low volume. I counted. Only seven bees. There should be fifty times that.
So, yeah, there's something going on.
I'd been hearing for a long time about a parasite that was killing off hives, but there's a new theory, a complication, that's worse. Some are blaming people who grow genetically modified or patented crops, who don't want "wild" bees spreading random pollen through their crops, so they are using pesticide to specifically target bees. They don't feel guilty about it because they are merely protecting their crops.
No one raindrop ever feels responsible for the flood.
At one extreme are the doom-and-gloom people who say that if the bees die, we die. No more fruits and vegetables. In the middle are the people who shrug and say, oh, well, there's still grains. This morning on NPR I heard the other extreme, the cycle theory, that bee populations naturally fall periodically, that records from the 19th century show that farmers were worried about bees disappearing. They called it "the disappearing disease". And therefore there's nothing to worry about.
The "natural cycle" theory is also used by people who want to shrug off global warming. "Nature will correct. Nature will recover. She always has and she always will."
Uh, yeah. But do they forget that Nature doesn't much care about us as a species? That sometimes, even left on her own, her recoveries are cataclysmic? She'll go on, the Earth will go on, but possibly in a quite different mix. We are not that important to Nature. Given the almost overwhelming success of pathogens, I'm not sure we're all that important to God, either. Don't forget they're His creations, too. Maybe His favored pets. Maybe we're pet food, and we don't realize it. Gotta keep the "herd" (us) contented.
Well, that's not where I was headed. Where was I - oh, yeah, Nature recovering from cycles that disturb us.
We have to remember that in the past, human influence on Nature didn't tip any balances. She did her thing without interference. That's the way she was set up. Things got to a certain point, and swoop! they came around again to balance. Nothing in the past several thousand years (when was that last ice age?) has gone beyond a tipping point.
Human influence and interference can quite possibly push Nature past a tipping point too quickly for her to react, to recover naturally.
And THEN we die.
.
1222 Spring Plowing
Sunday, April 29, 2007
I went to Spring Plowing today, for the first time in several years. I was so looking forward to it, and I was so disappointed. I had invited some people to go with me, but none could make it ("Spring Plowing? Uh, no, I gotta clean out my closets...").
The last time I went it was so much fun, and so beautiful. There were at least five ox teams, six or more mule teams, and more than ten or twelve draft horse teams. They ranged from a team of six glorious long-maned flash-tailed high-prancing Friesians in glossy brass-mounted harness, driven by a proud young man, to a plodding flop-eared mixed-breed in dull cracked and mended leather, with a sour old farmer.
The old men are the ones to watch, especially if they have a mule; in the competitions, they stomp the fancies into the ground every time. It's wonderful to watch an old animal work. They know exactly what they're doing. One year a farmer started an old mule out on a furrow, then walked away, and the mule plowed a perfect straight furrow all by himself.
Today, I knew it was going to be different. From the road I could see only five trailers.
There was one pair of oxen, just standing around to be petted. Maybe two mule pairs, and maybe four teams of draft horses. No competitions, just demonstrations, I guess. I stayed two hours, ate a hot dog, took a few photos, and then a cold wind came up and I left.
I wonder what happened? Why was it so different? I may have to wait for the county fair for my draft beasty fix.
---------------------------------
Lesson for the day:
"Ox" (plural "oxen") refers to any bovine that's trained for working. It has nothing to do with breed, gender, or breeding capability. Bettcha didn't know that.
.
I went to Spring Plowing today, for the first time in several years. I was so looking forward to it, and I was so disappointed. I had invited some people to go with me, but none could make it ("Spring Plowing? Uh, no, I gotta clean out my closets...").
The last time I went it was so much fun, and so beautiful. There were at least five ox teams, six or more mule teams, and more than ten or twelve draft horse teams. They ranged from a team of six glorious long-maned flash-tailed high-prancing Friesians in glossy brass-mounted harness, driven by a proud young man, to a plodding flop-eared mixed-breed in dull cracked and mended leather, with a sour old farmer.
The old men are the ones to watch, especially if they have a mule; in the competitions, they stomp the fancies into the ground every time. It's wonderful to watch an old animal work. They know exactly what they're doing. One year a farmer started an old mule out on a furrow, then walked away, and the mule plowed a perfect straight furrow all by himself.
Today, I knew it was going to be different. From the road I could see only five trailers.
There was one pair of oxen, just standing around to be petted. Maybe two mule pairs, and maybe four teams of draft horses. No competitions, just demonstrations, I guess. I stayed two hours, ate a hot dog, took a few photos, and then a cold wind came up and I left.
I wonder what happened? Why was it so different? I may have to wait for the county fair for my draft beasty fix.
---------------------------------
Lesson for the day:
"Ox" (plural "oxen") refers to any bovine that's trained for working. It has nothing to do with breed, gender, or breeding capability. Bettcha didn't know that.
.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
1221 Cards
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Angie, FirstWoman, Roman, and I went on a walk today, from under the Newburgh-Beacon bridge to the Balmville Tree and back. Then we went to Easy Street on the Newburgh waterfront for drinks and munchies (I had a very strong Bloody Mary and crab cakes), then to FW's to play cards.
Angie and FirstWoman partnered, and Roman and I - which didn't make a lot of sense, actually, because we were playing Spades, which both women were very familiar with, whereas it was relatively new to Roman and me. But I had promised FW that she wouldn't have to partner with him (Roman sometimes rubs her the wrong way), so I was the one who suggested the pairing.
They stomped us most of the way through. At one point they had like 300+ points and Roman and I were negative. But by the last couple hands, we got better (and they got reckless), and we ended in a tie. We figured that was a good way to end.
We've decided Mensa should have a monthly cards night. There's a group who regularly show up for a games night, but not cards.
We had a good time. I was in high spirits and came off with several of my famous completely unintended! double entendres, and Angie didn't let them pass. Mensans are quick.
Roman and I had only a tiny bit of time to talk. He's aware I'm into what may be a new relationship, and he's very curious. I didn't tell him much, only that I'm having fun ("I'm being courted, big time, and I like it"), and I'm going to follow it to the end, however long or short it is. I asked him howcome he's "out" on a weekend, and does she know he's with me. He said they agreed they needed some time off, and no, she doesn't know where he is. Good, because this may be a temporary break, and there's no need to annoy her even more.
I had a very nice conversation with Daughter this evening. She woke up in an all-day foul mood Thursday, and it took me until yesterday to figure out that a good portion of it had to do with my being with The Man Wednesday and Thursday. She can be very suspicious about men where her mother is concerned. But I guess I calmed her fears Thursday evening, and now she's even positive about him.
Tomorrow - draft horses.
.
Angie, FirstWoman, Roman, and I went on a walk today, from under the Newburgh-Beacon bridge to the Balmville Tree and back. Then we went to Easy Street on the Newburgh waterfront for drinks and munchies (I had a very strong Bloody Mary and crab cakes), then to FW's to play cards.
Angie and FirstWoman partnered, and Roman and I - which didn't make a lot of sense, actually, because we were playing Spades, which both women were very familiar with, whereas it was relatively new to Roman and me. But I had promised FW that she wouldn't have to partner with him (Roman sometimes rubs her the wrong way), so I was the one who suggested the pairing.
They stomped us most of the way through. At one point they had like 300+ points and Roman and I were negative. But by the last couple hands, we got better (and they got reckless), and we ended in a tie. We figured that was a good way to end.
We've decided Mensa should have a monthly cards night. There's a group who regularly show up for a games night, but not cards.
We had a good time. I was in high spirits and came off with several of my famous completely unintended! double entendres, and Angie didn't let them pass. Mensans are quick.
Roman and I had only a tiny bit of time to talk. He's aware I'm into what may be a new relationship, and he's very curious. I didn't tell him much, only that I'm having fun ("I'm being courted, big time, and I like it"), and I'm going to follow it to the end, however long or short it is. I asked him howcome he's "out" on a weekend, and does she know he's with me. He said they agreed they needed some time off, and no, she doesn't know where he is. Good, because this may be a temporary break, and there's no need to annoy her even more.
I had a very nice conversation with Daughter this evening. She woke up in an all-day foul mood Thursday, and it took me until yesterday to figure out that a good portion of it had to do with my being with The Man Wednesday and Thursday. She can be very suspicious about men where her mother is concerned. But I guess I calmed her fears Thursday evening, and now she's even positive about him.
Tomorrow - draft horses.
.
Friday, April 27, 2007
1220 Nothing
Friday, April 27, 2007
Today I did nothing. Missed a call from TheMan (I was still asleep), but he left a message, and we traded email. Read a backlog of blogs. Answered a backlog of email. Figured out what my calendar looks like for the next few weeks.
Habitat for Humanity is starting a renovation project in Kingston, the call is out for volunteers for next month, so I'm psyched about that.
Didn't get bills paid, dishes washed, or laundry done. Oh, well.
.
Today I did nothing. Missed a call from TheMan (I was still asleep), but he left a message, and we traded email. Read a backlog of blogs. Answered a backlog of email. Figured out what my calendar looks like for the next few weeks.
Habitat for Humanity is starting a renovation project in Kingston, the call is out for volunteers for next month, so I'm psyched about that.
Didn't get bills paid, dishes washed, or laundry done. Oh, well.
.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
1219 Karaoke
Thursday, April 26, 2007
We went to a Karaoke bar last night. Would you believe it was my first time? He's good. He's very good. He has range, and he's a showman. I love his voice. His natural speaking voice is deep and soft, so when he handed me the book and told me to pick something for his last turn, I picked Barry White's Can't Get Enough of Your Love.
Let's just say the blood rushed south out of my head, and I almost fell off the stool.
He gave me my very own copy of "Barenaked Ladies Are Men". Incidentally, he said he'd never noticed how many of the BNL's songs are about breaking up until he played them for me.
I gave him a chunk of petrified wood from my collection to commemorate our visit Saturday to the minerals section of the Museum of Natural History. He laughed. He said he didn't need it, I had sent him home Saturday night with a chunk of petrified wood. (Oh dear - maybe I shouldn't have said that. Well, too late now....)
I'm burbling again.
Ok, I've spent at least 47 hours in his presence, 38 without a chaperone, and I'm impressed. I still don't see how this can possibly work as more than a passing interest, there's so much working against it (he goes to church! Ack!) and I need to protect myself against hurt and wasted time and all that, but damn! I'm having fun!
-------------------------------
One bad thing. He's a lot younger, and last night I accidentally, in a weak moment of warmth, called him "Baby Boy". That was my pet name for Jay. I suddenly felt very guilty.
I hope he didn't hear it, because I guarantee he won't like that appellation, especially knowing where it had been used before. I can't do that again! It'll be hard not to, especially when my mind isn't working at those moments, but I really can't do that again.
--------------------------------
Ok, this is funny. Some people will get it and some won't.
I stopped on the way home to see Daughter and Hercules. We were in the den, and Daughter said, as she left the room and started down the hall, "I think Mom was a bad girl last night." Hercules said, "Oh. You've been eating chocolate?" I, confused, and thinking of my weight loss program, said, "Uh, no...?"
And then I noticed his evil grin, and Daughter came tearing back down the hall shouting something like "No! No! I can't believe you said that! No!" and I got it. "No no no no no no no nonono!", covering my face.
More evil grins, from both of them.
Rotten kids.
.
We went to a Karaoke bar last night. Would you believe it was my first time? He's good. He's very good. He has range, and he's a showman. I love his voice. His natural speaking voice is deep and soft, so when he handed me the book and told me to pick something for his last turn, I picked Barry White's Can't Get Enough of Your Love.
Let's just say the blood rushed south out of my head, and I almost fell off the stool.
He gave me my very own copy of "Barenaked Ladies Are Men". Incidentally, he said he'd never noticed how many of the BNL's songs are about breaking up until he played them for me.
I gave him a chunk of petrified wood from my collection to commemorate our visit Saturday to the minerals section of the Museum of Natural History. He laughed. He said he didn't need it, I had sent him home Saturday night with a chunk of petrified wood. (Oh dear - maybe I shouldn't have said that. Well, too late now....)
I'm burbling again.
Ok, I've spent at least 47 hours in his presence, 38 without a chaperone, and I'm impressed. I still don't see how this can possibly work as more than a passing interest, there's so much working against it (he goes to church! Ack!) and I need to protect myself against hurt and wasted time and all that, but damn! I'm having fun!
-------------------------------
One bad thing. He's a lot younger, and last night I accidentally, in a weak moment of warmth, called him "Baby Boy". That was my pet name for Jay. I suddenly felt very guilty.
I hope he didn't hear it, because I guarantee he won't like that appellation, especially knowing where it had been used before. I can't do that again! It'll be hard not to, especially when my mind isn't working at those moments, but I really can't do that again.
--------------------------------
Ok, this is funny. Some people will get it and some won't.
I stopped on the way home to see Daughter and Hercules. We were in the den, and Daughter said, as she left the room and started down the hall, "I think Mom was a bad girl last night." Hercules said, "Oh. You've been eating chocolate?" I, confused, and thinking of my weight loss program, said, "Uh, no...?"
And then I noticed his evil grin, and Daughter came tearing back down the hall shouting something like "No! No! I can't believe you said that! No!" and I got it. "No no no no no no no nonono!", covering my face.
More evil grins, from both of them.
Rotten kids.
.
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