1370 Moral Questions

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

[Edit - I found an article about the moral questions, link added at the bottom.]

I've had some folks find this blog after a search on "apostasy". Interesting. Interesting that they found me, even though I had purposely misspelled it to foil searches. Half of them clicked on the comment link, but then didn't comment. More interesting. What's that about?

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Back in May I mentioned a study being done by some folks at Harvard, about moral choices. Yesterday a researcher in the study was taking about it on NPR. They mentioned in particular the "trolley" questions. (Since a representative of the study talked about the questions on the radio, I guess I can here.)

The questions go something like this (from my memory, notoriously defective. Note that you have to accept the premise and predicted outcome exactly as stated):

1. There are five men working on a trolley track. There is a runaway trolley hurtling down the track toward them. The men do not see the trolley coming. If the trolley hits them, they will all be killed. You are standing near a lever that will switch the trolley to a different track, where only one man is working. If you pull the lever, that one man will be hit and killed, but the other five will be saved. Do you pull the lever?


2. There are five men working on a trolley track. There is a runaway trolley hurtling down the track toward them. The men do not see the trolley coming. If the trolley hits them, they will all be killed. You are standing on an elevated walkway over the tracks. There is a very large man, a stranger, standing on the walkway next to you. If you give him a very small push, he will fall to the tracks and be killed by the trolley, but he will derail the trolley and the other five will be saved. Do you push him?

The guy on the radio said that almost everyone answered these two question the same way, regardless of age, gender, nationality, or religion. Something like 80ish% answered "No" to the second question. I'm pretty certain he said that everyone answered "Yes" to the first. I'm pretty certain of that, because it surprised me.

I took the test in May. Very recently I was directly invited by Harvard to take it again. I did. The researcher's statement that everyone said "Yes" to the first question surprised me because I twice answered "No" to both questions.

So either they threw out answers they didn't like, or he is inaccurate when he said "everyone". (Perhaps 99.9999% is "everyone"?)

The researchers did brain scans on some people answering the questions. They noted that even though those two particular questions seem very similar, different areas of the brain lit up when people considered them. The theory of the researchers is that pushing the man is seen as murder, and that there is an inborn human resistance to murder, so as soon as the mind recognizes it as murder, the decision is shunted to the "no no no" part of the brain.

He kinda lost me there. Pulling a lever to send a trolley into a man is not murder? Isn't it the same as pulling a trigger? Or pushing someone in front of a train? If there's an inborn resistance to murder even to save others, where do wars come from? How do you make a soldier?

I'm sorry, but it occurs to me that some people may have felt a bit guilty about their first answer, and backed off on the second to say "Oh, now, I'm not THAT bad!" There was probably also a reluctance to actually touch the man in the second question. Touching him is to know him to some degree.

It sounds to me like the researchers started out with a theory and then set out to prove it.

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So, what was my thinking when I answered "No"? Simple, really. Knowing nothing about any of them, I don't think I have the right to decide that those five men are more valuable than that one man. And that's pretty much all that went into my decision. Mere numbers don't mean a lot to me. There's a measure of acceptance of fate in there, too. What is to happen, will. There is purpose in everything. I might even have a sudden overwhelming urge to pull the lever, figuring that if I weren't meant to, it would break.

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Later edit - An article about the moral questions is at http://www.wjh.harvard.edu/~jgreene/GreeneWJH/Greene-Haidt-TiCS-02.pdf. See the box on the third page down. The statements made in the box are different from what I remember of the NPR interview. Perhaps he was trying to simplify, and make it sound more interesting.
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1369 Raining

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

I picked up my new sunglasses today. I love them! The distance vision seems much sharper on these than my regular glasses. The old lenses were too dark brown, so I asked that these be a half-shade lighter, and they are now quite comfortable indoors. I am pleased.

I hadn't brought in the new television sets last night, so when I got home from the mall today I opened the trunk, brought the first one in, and got it all set up. Lots of things I didn't realize. First, I am getting both analog and digital signal on my rooftop antenna. Second, Every one of the six channels I get has at least three incarnations (???), and at least one of each of the three has different programming than on the "regular" channel. I don't understand how that works.

I was standing there admiring my new choices when I heard a crowd applauding in my front yard. It took a second to recognize it as a sudden downpour, and another second to remember that the trunk was open, with the other TV sitting there. It was raining so hard the water was pouring over the sides of the roof gutters. I got soaked running out to get the second TV, and now the Aerio's trunk is full of water.

The local wildlife is doing well. The doe who raises her fawns in my side yard has twins this year, and the three of them are often in my front yard in the morning and evening. There are rabbits all over the place, I see at least five in the yard and eight more on the side of the road every time I head out. This morning when I went down for the mail, there was a wild turkey hen next to my mailbox. She seemed reluctant to move, and then I saw why - she had at least fifteen chicks pecking in the taller weeds next to the road. I can't imagine that they were all hers. Do turkeys do "day care" babysitting like some other animals?

It's still pouring out there, thunder and lightning and all. I absolutely have to take the garbage down to the end of the driveway this evening (I don't produce much - I take it down about every third week), but it's sounding like this rain is settling in for a while. I don't like to walk down the drive after dark. There's too much other wildlife, the kind with fangs and venom, and big grumpy growly things, and the driveway runs close to the woods.
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1368 Irony

This post is dedicated to all ex-employees of The Company who got "riffed" in the 90's, and ended up coming back as contractors (at a higher salary, but with no benefits).

See: http://dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/archive/dilbert-20070710.html

1367 Sunglasses; TVs

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Since my prescription has changed, I need new sunglasses. I always get bifocal sunglasses, so I can see both the road and the dashboard when driving. I've been putting it off because the current fashion in frames (weasel gasses) are in my opinion too narrow for sunglasses - sunglasses should provide wide coverage.

This morning I looked at my old pair, and decided it should be possible to put new lenses in the old frames. They're plastic "Jackie O" style, and in pretty good condition, considering that they're fifteen years old.

So, off to the mall, to Lens Crafters. They have my prescription on file, and they're supposed to be able to do them in an hour, right?

They were "backed up". It was going to take 90 minutes. AND cost $200 for the lenses alone, WITH my AAA 15% discount!

Then I went to Best Buy and bought two small (very small) flat-screen High Definition TVs. The set in the bedroom died last week (guns gone), and the kitchen set went this morning (overheating, shuts itself off within seconds), so it's time. Then I walked for the next hour, three circuits of the mall.

When I got back to Lens Crafters, I could see a drama pantomimed through the window into the lab. An older guy was holding up a lens blank, stabbing lines on it with his finger, and shaking his head. The younger guy looked very unhappy. The older one came out and asked me my name, and when I told him, he said "I was afraid of that." That was my lens he'd been shaking his head over.

Everybody always has difficulty with my prescription, and I don't know why. There's nothing special about it, that I know of. But there's something about the rotational angle that the finished lens has to sit in the frame, and if it's slightly off, the prescription is wrong, and I understand that, but they seem to have difficulty getting that angle right. When I walked in, they were on their fourth ruined blank.

So, my sunglasses won't be done until tomorrow. I'll have to go back across the river tomorrow, and I really had other plans.
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1366 Hell

Monday, July 9, 2007

[Edit - I added some comment below. AND - I forgot. This is AOL video. If you're reading this on a feed, you'll have to click on the post title above to see the video. Clicking on the link below is useless, and I have no confidence in AOL's keeping it up for more than a day or two. So don't delay. Sheesh. Ask me again why I left AOL.]

Ok, I apologize. I've got to stop posting so many times a day! But I keep finding stuff I want to keep.

This sounds interesting. I'll be watching or recording Friday night. This guy makes sense on one of the reasons I've rejected formal organized religion. I just hope the network sticks to people like him, who have studied and thought. No whackos, please.

[I removed the video because every time anyone entered this journal, the browser took them directly to this point, I assume because the code provided by AOL made it an embedded page. To see the video, click here.]

Later------

I got an email response to this already, an AOLer who is upset that I would promulgate "such garbage".

Ideas for intellectual discussion are not per se a bad thing. Ideas can become bad when they are used to threaten or coerce.

Where one falls on the religious spectrum will determine the reaction to speculation on the existence of Hell. Some will be horrified by the apostacy (the reverend's congregation? the AOLer?), others will be looking for vindication. I think most will simply find it water cooler fodder, with very little effect on what they already believe.

Just for the record, I do believe that everyone has a soul. The mind and body is merely a tool for the soul. The soul enters at birth and leaves at death. But I don't believe in Hell, or Purgatory, or the usual concept of Heaven. My beliefs are quite different.

Here's a question - is the soul simply your mind? If it's something separate, if it enters and leaves, what does it do while it's here? Is it really just sitting there, twiddling its thumbs and tapping its foot? I believe that if you listen, your soul will talk to you. It knows, and if you listen, it will tell you. You don't need someone outside to tell you.
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1365 Real Men Don't

Monday, July 9, 2007

An "Everyone Loves Raymond" rerun is on, and they're making fun of psychotherapy, and how real men don't need it. The men end up talking with each other more.

I had a discussion with a friend a few days ago. He knows that some parts of his life just aren't working. He thinks it's just that he's got high standards, that he's too much of a perfectionist. I think his problem is that he simply won't let the little things go. He has too much stored up anger. He won't allow, won't forgive, failings in other people, and won't talk with them about it. He said that counselling is out of the question, "My whole family would think I'm nuts."

I can't say anything to him. It wouldn't be received well. I can only listen. But it frustrates me, because I see what he could be without the interference of his suppressed anger.

I ran into that attitude with Ex#1. His entire social set, family, friends, coworkers, were of the opinion that any male who admitted to any kind of emotional therapy was a weakling. They snorted. A real man copes. He's not even allow to admit to a problem. They wouldn't even consider marriage counselling. "Got a problem? Have another beer. Got a problem with her? Give her another beer."

One of his drunken friends was bragging one evening that he'd never been to any kind of therapist, never would, didn't need it. I responded, "That's like a man with a mouth full of rotten teeth bragging that he'd never been to a dentist." But that was in front of each other. I had many private conversations with some of Ex#1's male friends and family members that pretty much turned into therapy sessions. They knew they had broken pieces and hurting places. They just couldn't admit it and remain macho.

Churches contributed to the problem, especially the Catholic Church. They preferred that you talk to the priest or pastor, who counselled you to submit. Self-understanding was definitely not in a hierarchical paternalistic Church's best interest.

It seems like these days getting help is a lot more socially acceptable, at least in the circle I move in now, but a lot harder to get. Medical insurance doesn't want to pay for it, or they limit it. Psychiatrists have pretty much turned into pill dispensers. Psychologists and other varieties of therapists seem to each have a particular school of thought, and they will cram you into the pattern, whether you fit or not.

Jay's therapist had an "inner child" theory. He was quite happy with her, figured that his lack of progress was his fault, not hers. It took rigorous testing in connection with his brain surgery to discover he was Aspie. He was way out of his therapist's league, and she didn't have broad enough training to recognize it.

So someone who says yes, I need to examine this and fix it, can waste a lot of time and money before they find someone, something, that works. A lotta quicksand out there. Sink right in. Maybe the insurance companies are right. Maybe it's easier and cheaper to put the world on Prozac (or whatever is popular now...).

I lucked out. I got me a Jungian talk therapy psychiatrist who simply asked questions ("And why is that, do you think?"), at a time when The Company's insurance plan covered it fully, with no limits. He was exactly right for me, at exactly the right time in my life. He taught me skills that have served me well for the past 26 years (when I disengage enough to use them, that is).

I am grateful. I wish my friend had had the same opportunity. I can see what he could be.
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1364 Optical Illusions

Monday, July 9, 2007

Some people are like Slinkies ... not really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.

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Found this in my old journal:
Sometimes you can't really know what someone is saying to you. You hear the words, but sometimes the words carry a meaning different from their dictionary definition. If you have no other basis for interpretation, you interpret from your own base.

In an intimate relationship, the only way to fully understand the other person's messages, or lack thereof, is to understand their motivations, how their mind works. If you don't understand that, you don't have an intimate relationship. You're just skimming along the surface.

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These arrived from my sister. (Ignore the typos - they came as part of the package.) The second one is especially interesting. I don't know why what happens after you blink happens. More, I can't help wondering HOW someone created it. How do you go about drawing a design that gets that result? Yeah, it's a negative, but usually you can tell what a negative is.




Follow the instructions exactly. For the longest-lasting effect, take the full 30 seconds.


Later edit - I realized that with IrfanView I can make a negative of this. I did, and the negative, with a little unfocusing of the eyes, is exactly what you see on the wall. They want you to blink to unfocus. That's why it takes shape only after you blink (unless you already know what to expect). So, it's drawn black on white, then "negativized" for the illusion.

1363 A Story

Monday, July 9, 2007


I found this on a website I while looking for the Silken Drum story. This is different from the classic story, and was unattributed (so I don't feel bad copying it), and I like it better.


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A mighty warlord, realizing that he was nearing the end of his days, urged his daughter to marry in order to carry on the dynasty.


"The green of the plum tree has come and gone, and it is the time of the blossoms." he told her, "And yet you do not blossom. Will I die without seeing you married, without knowing my grandchildren?"


"No," his daughter said, "I will fashion a drum of silk, stretched over a bamboo frame. The man who hears the music when my fingers strike the drum I will marry."


"Foolishness!" the aging warlord said in frustration. "A silken drum will not make any sound. I shall die without heirs."


But his daughter had her way, and so a drum made of silk was fashioned as she wished.


Many young men came to listen as she played, but none heard any sound.


The months and seasons passed, the plum tree blossoms withered and fell to the ground. And then a handsome young man, finely dressed, came and paid his respects to the aging ruler.


"I have traveled from beyond the mountains and over the seas to ask your daughter's hand in marriage", said the stranger, looking directly at the silent daughter who sat nearby with her silken drum.


"She will only marry the one who can hear the music of her silken drum," sighed the old man. "Don't tell me you heard the sound all the way from your distant kingdom!"


The suitor said, "No, no sound of the drum reached my ears."


"Then be on your way, like the others before you," the old man said. "Why do you linger here?"


"Because, my lord, I hear the silence."


And the young woman smiled and put away her silken drum.
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1362 New Blog Controls

Sunday, July 8, 2007


I decided to try creating a new journal under Blogger, and I discovered a bunch of new controls. AOL, where I started, allowed you to make a journal private, open only to people you specifically allow in. When I switched to Blogger, Blogger didn't have that facility. It was open to the world, period.


It now has privacy controls!

If you go to "settings", on the far right you'll find a "Permissions" tab. You can close your blog to everyone, or allow only certain people in. So you can make it private with "Permissions", and under other settings you can remove it from blogrolls, notices, and feeds. You can make it not show up in your profile. Whoop! Completely hidden!

Of course, what I really want to do is to have it open to strangers and closed to friends, for reasons I've outlined before, but that's not how the permissions work. What I want is impossible, since anyone can create a new email id any time, and become a virtual stranger. Well, half a loaf....

So I decided to start a new blog, open only to me, where I can blast people by name if I want to.

Easier said than done.

Can't get a title. Seems like every possible combination of letters that spells real words is taken! The names I really wanted were already taken, and when I went to the blogs that took those names, almost all of them had ONE post, in 2005, and none since.

Shesh, folks. If you built a blog just to try it out, and have no intention to maintain it, delete it! Give back the name! Let somebody else have it.

I ended up with a name that I just now realized that I'd better write down, because I'm already on the verge of forgetting it.
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1361 Tongue Studs

Sunday, July 8, 2007

I just read that more than half of Americans between 20 and 35 have at least one tattoo or piercing other than ears. That surprised me.

I can understand some piercings, like in the side of the nose. I couldn't understand why anyone would want their tongue pierced, though.

Back when I was mediating, I asked one of the family court girls who had a stud in her tongue why she did it. Seems like it would be annoying. She slid her eyes sideways to her friends and said, "Becauth I like to thuck it." Her friends cracked up.

That was 10 years ago, and I just found out what tongue studs are "good for", and why her friends laughed.

I can't believe I was so naive!

Please, please tell me it's not true! Convince me there's another advantage to them!

But I guess it explains why guys find them fascinating. Effective advertising.

1360 Avoiding 2

Sunday, July 8, 2007

[Edit - eliminated the problem. The cat can kick dirt over the poopy, but it still smells. Which reminds me - gotta clean the litter box....]

On Friday I bemoaned the fact that this journal no longer serves its original purpose. I thought maybe it had something to do with the fact that people who know me are now reading it. Bec's comment has merit, but that addresses the arrows toward me. They don't bother me. She's correct that I am not very concerned about what others think of me. If I am me, and honest, and they don't like it, then why would I want them close to me anyway?

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Scott Adams had a post today about "Rounders" versus "Accumulators". He says that some people round things off, and some add them up. So if a Rounder has five problems in his life, each of which is a 2 on a scale of 10, then each gets rounded to 0, and if you ask how things are going, he'll say "just fine", because that's how he sees it. Whereas the Accumulator with five 2-rated problems adds them up, and sees himself as having a 10 in problems.

I am usually a Rounder.

This weekend, I am in physical pain. It makes me think of things like undetected tumors, and how long it's been since I had a physical, and diabetes, and death, and what a mess my house is, and how a couple of people are trying to guilt me into things I don't want to do, directions I don't want to go, and how another person has twice made a specific commitment to me and has twice blown it off without a word, smiled and turned away, and another runs hot and cold, and how I may have to fire The Hunk and get a landscaping company in, he's just taking too long to get the side yard done, but The Hunk is a neighbor, and can I do that, what if he gets mad, I depend on him too much, he was hurt when I gave someone else the roofing job, but just how long do I have to wait for my side yard, and so on and on. There's a lot of that kind of 2-rated annoyance going on.

Sometimes, I become a temporary Accumulator.
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1359 I Do Too Hate L0tus

Sunday, July 8, 2007

I friend has said that I can't say I hate Lotus. Lotus is a large library of applications and tools.

Sorry, but I can too say I hate Lotus! I can say anything I want. You are free to disagree.

I am willing to admit that what I really hate is the way the membership data base is set up at the museum. I mean, there are some incredible stupidities. For example, every record has a sequence number. When you create a new record, you have to ASSIGN a sequence number to it. It was not set up to automatically assign the next available number.

In the past, numbers must have been skipped, because there are, say, 2345 records, but the highest sequence number currently in use is 3456. You have to write down numbers as you use them, so you'll know what's the next available number. The first time I created a new record, it took me like 10 tries (hashing) to find the next number. Now I keep a list, but the first time someone else creates a record and picks a high number out of the air, I may be lost again.

My friend said I should be able to list the full database, and then just look at the list to see what the highest number is.

Nope. With the "cuts" and "tabs" we've got, there's no easy way to be sure you obtain the entire data base. It consists of mailing list, paid members, supporters, and advertisers, and all the "cuts" get you some combination of subsets, but not necessarily all.

Also, it's impossible to delete a record. You can't even blank out fields to take it effectively "off the lists", because then you get the error message that "xxx must not be blank", or "xxx must be a valid date". When I find the occasional duplicate record, I write down the sequence number, and then when I create the next new record, I just overwrite the fields in this record with the new information.

I'm sure there's some way to find the last record, and to delete records, there has to be, but I don't know it, and nobody else in the museum does either, and I'm not about to spend my own unpaid time! finding out.
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1358 Observation

Great minds talk about ideas.
Average minds talk about events.
Small minds talk about people.

- Eleanor Roosevelt (?)

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1357 Gift Shopping

Saturday, July 7, 2007

I had a finger-check typing the title, and it came out "Gift Shpooing". Maybe I should have left it that way.

When I was wandering through all the little boutiques around the kaleidoscope on Thursday, I noticed several things that would be perfect for three birthdays coming up, and one long past. The one long past is the most difficult to choose for. It has to be perfect. Light in weight, and very masculine. And I thought I had found the perfect thingy. Perfect. More than perfect. Exceeds requirements.

I went back today. The three future gifts were still there, and I got them, and I'm happy. The one past, well, they had some of them still there, but they weren't exactly right. They weren't masculine enough. I left my name with the shop, and they'll call when new stock comes in next week. If none of them are right, they may be able to have one made to order for me. I don't know how long that will take. They're made in India.

By the time I left the shops, my mega-dose of aspirin had worn off, and I was in real pain. I had fallen asleep on my stomach for three nights in a row, and now I have complaining nerves. It's the ones that go to the intestines, so the pain isn't in the back, it's in the abdomen. Knots, writhing. It's pretty bad. (Sex is the best thing for it, but a bubble bath and aspirin, a distant second, is the best I can do.)

But, as I passed Just Alan, I saw a sign up. "Retiring" "Everything Must GO" "30%-40% off"
Alan's store in Woodstock is mostly about magic. His Route 28 store is about antiques and Asian items. How could I not stop?

I bought some (modern, but Victorian-looking) barrettes, a silver case, and scented soap. I didn't buy THE LAMP. Oh, I want it. It's perfect for the desk in the living room. It's Art Deco, a cluster of bronze stems, like a bunch of lilies tied together, the flower heads drooping over at the top. The flowers are delicate lilies in frosted peach glass, ten or twelve of them I suppose. The wiring is the old fabric-wrapped stuff, so it would need rewiring, but I can do that myself.

The price tag said $1250.00, and it's a steal at that, but it's 30% off, so with tax it would come in under $900. Alan was accepting only cash during the sale, so I was safe from impulse. And tomorrow is Sunday, and the ATM will limit how much I can take out, so I'm safe tomorrow, too. And he's not open during the week. So.

The lamp was almost as good as sex. My stomach didn't hurt again until I got back to my car.

It looks sort of like this, but it's not Tiffany. The Tiffany lamp below was listed with James D. Julia Auctioneers (http://www.jamesdjulia.net/) in 2005, I believe, estimated at $27,600.00. "My" shades were more realistic in shape, with a fold and "lip".

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1356 Avoiding

Friday, July 6, 2007

[Edit - removed a paragraph that caused conflict.]

The original purpose of this journal was to examine my thoughts and feelings. I haven't done any of that in a long time. Instead, this has turned into a daily activity log.

I don't know why.

Journaling got me through recovery after Jay's death, when I was finally able to examine my feelings, when I was finally ready to put them away. Putting them on "paper" got them out of my head, but kept them real, not lost. I got emails from complete strangers who had stumbled upon the early, exploratory, AOL entries, and many said that they'd never read anything so raw and yet so beautiful, that they were amazed that I could expose myself to that degree. I didn't see it that way. It is what it is, and I've never hidden my feelings.

Journaling helped again when I was sorely hurt a while ago. When my mind was confused and running in circles, when I felt that my trust had been so misplaced and so badly betrayed, writing it all down helped to make it linear, helped me to see what was really happening, not what I wanted it to be, but what it was. Putting it on "paper" defused the murderously destructive feelings. I had strangers telling me that they couldn't believe that it was real, that it had to be fiction. I let them believe that, but it was what it was, and I've never hidden my feelings.

Except from myself.

The introspection is gone.

My initial thought was that perhaps it's because I now have a few people reading this who know me personally. Some, like The Gypsy, I'm not worried about, because I know that whatever I say, she will understand. But others? I'm not so sure. I hesitate to expose myself to people who know me, and might judge me.

I'm not sure that's the whole reason. I'm simply not very introspective these days. I think I'm hiding something from myself.

All the more reason to explore it.

A friend asked why the emotional exploration has to be public. Why can't I just write my thoughts in a private journal? Because making it public, even if it's only strangers out there, keeps it honest. In a private journal, it's too easy to lie to myself. Too easy to use faulty logic, to make excuses for others, in the guise of explanations (why did that just hurt?).

Even strangers will call you on that kind of subterfuge.
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1355 Museum, Hail, etc.

Friday, July 6, 2007

A newswoman was talking this morning about all the weddings and Cesarean sections scheduled for tomorrow, and she said that tomorrow is "the luckiest day in history". Uh, what? There was no July 7 in, say, 1907? How 'bout 1977? If three 7s is good, is four better?

Chuck Ferris points out that babies born tomorrow will be 77 on 7/7/77. That's kind of neat. [Whoops! Quick edit - wrong, Chuck. They'll be 70.]

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I went to the museum today, and sent out membership cards to 32 members. I hate Lotus.

There were a few screwups because of the stupid data base application. Things don't get "domino'ed" through, and every record has to be individually searched, and if someone doesn't search exactly correctly, we get double records for the same member, and there's no way we'd ever find out. It also doesn't assign the next number in sequence to new records. You have to keep track yourself of the last number used. I hate Lotus.

Betty says that the woman who set it up (another volunteer) "said she knew all about data bases". Well, I replied that when someone says that, they usually actually know only one or two applications at the most, and they'll set things up in the same way they had used it in the past - whether it suits this purpose or not. (I hate Lotus.)

What the museum really needs is someone who knows several of the popular data base packages, who can look at what we do with it and want from it, and then recommend the one, or even two, most suited to our needs.

I gave them a recommendation of someone who can do exactly that, but they haven't followed up on it. (I hate Lotus. Or at least this incarnation of it....)

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While I was at the museum we had a hail storm. Hailstones the size of marbles. It was short, but I guess Route 32 got it either worse or longer than the Rondout did. When I was driving home, the sections of 32 where the trees are close to the road were completely covered in bits of shredded leaf. No branches down, but a lot of shredded leaf. It made the road slippery.

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The checks from the stock sales are starting to roll in. Some are coming by mail, but the larger ones are hand-delivered. I got five today. Piper will be pleased.
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1354 Overheard

Friday, July 6, 2007

Overheard from the booth behind at dinner last night:

"Every child holds on to the hope that someday his parents will be normal."

... which would have been funny, except that the topic of conversation was family court issues.
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1353 Kaleidoscope 2

Found a short clip!

[If you're on a feed and don't see a video clip, click on the post title.]

This seems to be a bit speeded up, but it is essentially what you see as you lie on the floor:


There are the usual three mirrors, but the mirrors are tapered and angled, so that you see a globe, rather than a flat display.
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1352 Kaleidoscope

Thursday, July 5, 2007

A few weeks ago I discovered that a friend had never seen the Mt Tremper kaleidoscope, the world's largest (at 60 feet - you lie on the floor inside). So today we went to see it.

He picked me up this morning, and we drove to Mt. Tremper. I was surprised to see that there were actually tubers on the Esopus. They must be doing a lot of portaging, because there's almost no water in the creek. Even when the water is high and fast, one of the hazards is hitting your backside (hanging down through the center of the tube) on rocks. I bet there'll be a lot of bruised tourist bottoms this evening!

We wandered through all the shops surrounding the kaleidoscope. They have a lot of beautiful stuff, very expensive, but not overpriced. There's a kaleidoscope store, full of handmade kaleidoscopes of every description, every material, and you can look through all of them.

Then we settled on the floor in the monster kaleidoscope for the 10-minute show. It's pretty good, but mainly it's just being able to say you've seen it.

Back through the shops again. In the country store, the clerk offered me a taste of biscotti, chocolate, no less, "Try this, it'll change your life!" She didn't understand why I cracked up. Giggled for a half hour. Private joke. Don't ask.

We had a late lunch at a restaurant recommended by a clerk, who said that if we wanted burgers, we wouldn't find it there, but "blah blah Culinary Institute blah delicious food blah blah." It was quite a ways up the road, but we found it, and it was a sandwich joint! We'd imagined white tablecloths and flowers, and got sticky formica and ordinary food. Must be friends of the clerk.

We consulted the map, looking for a back-route home, and ended up swinging around and coming down Platte Clove Road. That's another experience he had missed, and another of those things you have to do once. It's pretty scary, but the view down down down into the clove is worth it.

We passed the sign for Opus 40, and lo, he didn't even know what that is, so there's another expedition for sometime. I can't believe he's lived in this area for decades, and missed so much.

We ended up in Rhinebeck, dinner at the Mill House Panda.

I got home about 8:30. It was a very nice day.

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There was one major disappointment today. The last time I went to the Rive Gauche Moroccan night, I tried to call a few days ahead for reservations, and was told that they didn't take reservations until the day before the event. So I held off calling until this afternoon, and then when I tried, we were up in the mountains, and there was no cell signal. I wasn't able to call until late afternoon, and was then told that they were full, no more room.

Ack!

Willow is dancing tomorrow night, and we can't get in? I might have to go and press my nose against the window glass. I'll have to find some tattered rags to wear.

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1351 Aural Pyrotechnics

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

I joined FW at Omega at 5 pm. She bought her drum in the bookstore. It's small, very prettily painted in a rainbow of colors and swirling patterns. She's very pleased with it. I thought it was shockingly expensive. The head is tacked and glued, which means that when it stretches, you can't tighten it. There was another plain one with a roped head that I recommended (you tighten it by slipping wedges under the ropes), for slightly over half the price of the one she liked, but she wanted a pretty one. I guess it doesn't matter so much how it plays as how you feel when you play it, so maybe the pretty one was the best choice for her.

The food at Omega is excellent, if you don't mind a dearth of meat. Before we went to the bookstore I had some cucumber yogurt soup in the cafe, that was perfectly seasoned with some unidentified herb. A buffet dinner was served in the dining hall. The only meat was lemon tilapia. I don't usually care for fish, but this was delicious. I had two pieces. The other protein was roasted tofu. Again, a surprise. It had been tossed in tahini before roasting, and it was perfect. I had two servings of that, too. The salad dressing was a neon green house creation involving bananas, some exotic fruits, and mint. Very good. Everything was good, even the steamed broccoli and the rice salads, both herbed perfectly.

I recommend dinner at Omega. You stop by the Guest Services office, sign in and buy a $10 dinner ticket, and show up at the dining hall.

The concert was free. I didn't write down the guy's name, figuring I could find him on the internet - but the Omega online calendar doesn't list the concerts! Oh well. I liked his voice on the ballads, and he certainly can play the guitar, but most of the selections were very raucous, very hard rock, and even on most of the "softer" stuff he beat the guitar up so brutally it drowned out his voice. He did some interesting vocal things, and some of the songs (his own) were funny or poignant, and I'd have liked to have heard them more clearly.

So, a good evening.
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1350 Beautiful!

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

[If you're on feed, and don't see the video, click on the blog title.]

Just found this. Very different, and beautiful. I don't know what that metal doohicky on the left is, but I love it! I want one! I want to touch it! Anyone know what it's called?


More! I've found a new love!!!!


I'm on a roll here.... It's called a "Hang Drum", invented in Switzerland in about 2001, and difficult to find in the states. Also expensive. I am now embarked on a search.
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1349 Another Passion

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

[If you read this on a feed, the embedded video may not show. Click on the post title to see it.]

FW just called. She invited me to join her at Omega Institute tonight for dinner and a concert, and to shop for a djembe (an African hand drum, usually carved wood, with a goatskin head). She's thinking of joining a drum circle. Coincidence?

I seem to be on a theme lately. Here's another passion of mine:



I love bagpipes, and the military drum tattoos. But just hearing a recording doesn't do it. I have to SEE it. I guess it's the attire, and the faces, and the movement I have to experience, too. Also, a recording doesn't make that throb in the chest that you get in person, when the sound becomes part of your body.

Part of my love for bagpipes is that I deeply appreciate skill and craftsmanship wherever I find it (oddly, I don't necessarily have the same respect for talent), and bagpipes require hard work and dedication.

Irish (uillean) pipes require in addition a dose of insanity. Here's some Irish bagpipe playing. Note the bellows under the right elbow. Unlike the Scottish bagpipe, the Irish pipe player can play the drones, too.


I've seen Joe McKenna play Irish bagpipes, at Wolf Trap, in the early 80's (the same festival where I fell in love with zydeco). Joe's had several drones with exposed reeds, lying across his lap, and one hand whipped back and forth from the chanter (I think that's what it's called) to the drones. Fascinating. Here's a picture showing Joe's instrument.

I love bodhran, too. Here's a guy who's really good


And hammered dulcimer, oh, Lordy, hammered dulcimer:

There are so many sounds and sights that will stop me in my tracks.

You know, it's good to have things outside yourself that excite you.
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1348 Penmanship Shmenmanship, Who Cares?

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Rereading the previous post, I get a feeling of suppressed annoyance. It really has nothing to do with the credit card issue, because that has nothing to do with me.

It's penmanship.

And other idiocies.

Renewals aren't too bad - I stick a preprinted label on the form when I mail them out, so it's easy to figure out who sent it back with their check. Of course, there's always the three or four who don't return the form with their checks, or who for some unknown reason tear the top part, with the label, off. Duh? Why? There's always a few.

The real frustration comes from the new members. They fill out the form with their name, address, phone number, and email address.

Don't they realize that someone has to READ that thing? Is this a "1", or a "7", or a "9"? Is that an "o", or a "u", or an "a" ? And then there are the ones whose name is just a scrawl - I can't even tell how many letters there are, let alone what individual letters are. Of the 18 new members in this batch today, I had difficulty reading 12 of them. I could take the information off the checks for a few, or a preprinted return label on the envelope, but the rest I had to guess.

That really really bugs me.

Then there's the folks who put their full name and address on the form - and leave off the zip code. They don't know their zip code? They don't write or dictate their address very often?

I don't understand.

When I worked for The Company I often ran meetings where attendance was mandatory. I passed around an attendance form, and each and every time, I warned people that if I couldn't read their names, they would NOT be credited with attendance, and they'd have to go through it again. And yet, after every meeting, I couldn't figure out fully 20% of the names, even with the department lists in hand for comparison.

Idiots.

Yeah. I'm frustrated.
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1347 To the Museum

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

To the Maritime Museum volunteer gig this afternoon. I processed new member and renewal checks. The first half-hour was opening envelopes. The second half-hour was making copies of the forms and checks to leave on the accountant's desk. The last two hours was updating the membership info in the database.

I hate Lotus.

We found an "uh-oh" with the new dues payment forms. The museum wants to start accepting credit cards, so there's a space on the form for the type of card, the number, and a signature. No space for the expiration date. Cute. That's the letters I sent out last week, so this month we'll start getting payments we can't process. Real cute.

Well, that's the coordinator's problem, not mine. I refused to have anything to do with credit cards the first time it was proposed.
"We're going to start accepting credit cards for the dues, so you'll have to process them in the gift shop."
"No."
"Huh?"
"No. I won't do credit cards."
"Huh?"
"I don't want to do credit cards. If you want credit cards done, someone else'll have to do them. I've got more than enough to do now. I won't take on more."
"Oh."

Man, as a volunteer, you can pretty much dictate your terms. Lots better than being an employee!

The credit card machine is downstairs in the gift shop, and it's temperamental. Last week some woman bought like $45 worth of stuff in the shop, and the machine overcharged her card by fifty-some dollars. The volunteer on the register followed the printed instructions to cancel the transaction, then tried to refund the card, and nothing worked. She offered the woman a cash refund from the register, and the woman, tapping her foot impatiently, refused it. Small panic, phone calls made.

Hain't no way I'm touching that fool machine. Sounds like something a paid employee should do anyway.

No plans for tomorrow.

I guess I have to admit I did waste time yesterday. Absolutely no other person has been in this house in the past year. The place is a mess. When Roman picked me up to go Mass MOCA a few weeks ago, I was waiting outside for him. He asked if he could use my bathroom, and I said "No. We'll go to the diner." He was shocked, but nope, no one's seeing the inside of this house until I can clean up. I used to say it's cluttered, but at least it's clean clutter. Now the clutter is so bad, I can't clean.

Roman's house is a mess, too, stacks of paper on every surface and the floor, but that's different and ok. He lets me in his house (but nobody else, only me). He doesn't understand the difference. I said, "Well, when a man sees a woman's house all messy, he thinks, 'Yuck. She's a rotten housekeeper.' When a woman sees a man's house all messy, she thinks, 'Aw, so male. He needs a woman.' And that's a BIG difference."

So, tomorrow I move storage containers to the basement, and see if I can't get some order in one or two corners, at least.
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1346 More D&B Corps

Monday, July 2, 2007

When you view the videos in the prior post, at the end of each you are offered more related choices. I've spent (absolutely NOT "wasted") most of today watching all I could find. Yeah, this is a passion, one that's been neglected for far too long.

The Cavaliers are my favorites, because they are so precise on the field patterns, and they don't try to put on a Broadway show, like so many others. Here's an example of the patterns:


And another, shorter but maybe better:


I keep calling them kids. My drum line buddies of '97 said that they age out the day they turn 21 (I think I remember 21), but in practical fact, they usually drop out when they go to college, because they just don't have the time for the hours and hours of winter practice, and to spend all summer living on a bus going from competition to competition. They look so grown up in these videos. The following is a video of a BBQ hosted by alumni of the Cavaliers. Watch the current members as they come through the food line. These are KIDS! Teenagers.


Hmmmm. Drums have an effect on me. Now I need me a man....
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1345 Drum Lines

Monday, July 2, 2007

[If you're looking at a feed and don't see imbedded videos, click on the post title.]

I was watching a Metcafe video linked by another blogger, and when it finished, this was offered: http://www.metacafe.com/watch/699860/awesome_drummers/. Thrilling! (I haven't been able to figure out how to imbed it, sorry. )

It reminded me that I haven't been to a Drum & Bugle Corps competition in ages. There's one at the stadium in Kingston every summer, and the past few years, well, since Jay got sick, I've missed it. I just wasn't paying attention.

I love drum and bugle corps, especially the drum line. I love to hear them, and to watch them. Its a passion of mine. And here's why:

That was the Blue Devils, of Concord, CA, one of the top corps, in rehearsal. The sound! The precision! The Rockettes have nothing on these kids.

The next is the Cavaliers, from Illinois, warming up before competition.

Doesn't that thrill you to your very toes? My heart beats faster watching them. When the competitions are in Kingston, you find this sort of thing happening in parks, parking lots, and on lawns all over The Stockade all afternoon of "the day".

An evening I will remember as one of the best of my life was at a D&B competition. It was just before Jay got ill. He had something to do that evening, so I went alone. I was in the lower seating in the stadium, and a man came with two very young children, which he seated next to me, in about the only two seats left. He strongly cautioned them that they were to stay there, not to move, "I'll be just up there", and seemed concerned about leaving them alone. So as he as leaving to go to his own seat, I offered to trade seats with him. He gratefully accepted, and ... I found myself sitting in the middle of the alumni of the (long defunct) Kingston D&B corps!

At first they seemed a bit disconcerted to find a tiny white lady in their midst, but when I started asking questions, they were happy to have a receptive pupil. I learned sooooo much about what looks hard but is actually easy, what looks easy but is very difficult and why, what gathers points. All the technical stuff to appreciate, "Now, watch this! No, not the snares, watch the left! Woooo! Did you see that!" The guys on either side of me lifted me up high when the crowd stood, so I could see. I had an absolutely wonderful time.

They talked about how much the corps had done for them. That if it hadn't been for the discipline and pride they got from the corps, they wouldn't be where they were today. Every one of them had some kind of college degree, several owned their own successful businesses, a few were programmers with The Company. That if it hadn't been for the corps, they'd probably still be on the streets kicking stones, and that with all the problems Kingston had with midtown youth, the city was missing a bet by not resurrecting the corps.

I pointed out that they, themselves, were in a position to make a difference. The mayor was interested in things that would improve the city. Maybe they could get the Chamber of Commerce interested. All they really needed was a director and funding. By the end of the evening, they were taking about sources of funding.

I'm almost ashamed to say that I don't know if Kingston now has a corps. But I do know that shortly after that evening, Highland started a corps, and Port Ewen started a senior corps (you "age out" of the regular corps fairly early. Despite what it looks like on these videos, these are KIDS!), and I wonder if "my" drum line buddies were involved.

The following is a video from that very night! I found it entirely by chance. This is the Brigadiers, of Syracuse, NY, 1997.


The next competition in Kingston will be August 11th, 7:30 pm, at Deitz stadium. I'll be there. The lineup so far doesn't look exciting - where are the Phantom Regiment? The Cadets of Bergen County? The Bluecoats? The Cavaliers? The Brigadiers? All the national winners?

Regardless, I'll be there.
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1344 Moon Over River

Sunday, July 1, 2007

Dirty Dave just sent this, taken by his cell phone. Moon over Hudson River. Roman also tried to capture it with his cell phone, which drew one of my "Mensan comments", "How can that work? Cell phones don't have a flash." Which got some laughter, but isn't what I meant. I meant "don't they need more light?"

1343 Complications

Sunday, July 1, 2007

The decision as to whether to go to the fireworks has been made for me. There's a gusty breeze high in the trees, and the maple trees are showing the undersides of their leaves. Sure sign of rain.


If I'm wrong, I can still see the higher chrysanthemums from my deck, so I think I'll stay home, warm, and dry.

There were actually about 12 people at NJ's last night. I forgot to count the Pilot and the Nurse. It's interesting that among so few people, there was so much going on underneath. We've all known each other entirely too long.


It was last year at this time, at NJ's, that the proverbial poop hit the fan, as regards Roman and me. I'm sure a lot of people were wondering what is now going on with us. It was obvious we are friendly, even affectionate, which I'm sure blows people's minds, given what had happened. I'm a little surprised he showed up last night. Pond scum and all.

He made a point of several times mentioning "the woman I had been dating", ensuring that everyone knew they had broken up. We left together, and if anyone had been watching from the window, they'd have seen a hug and a very small kiss. They'd have seen both cars go through the stone gateway one after the other. What they couldn't see is that at the end of the access road, I turned north, and he turned south. What they don't know is that's the way it is now. That's pretty much the way it has to be. Hello hugs and goodbye kisses, and nothing much in between.

Dirty Dave broke up with his several-year girlfriend more than a year ago, and he's not over her yet. He finally figured out that she didn't really like him at all, that she was using him. He said she has lived the grasshopper life, and has found herself in her late 50s with no savings, and all she wanted was someone who would pay for her fun.

The poor guy wants a woman.

I opened the can of worms when I asked him if he'd done any travelling lately (that was his retirement plans), and he said no, that he hates travelling alone. He had tried to get back together with a prior girlfriend, and it actually looked promising, but he said that the 15-year age difference, that hadn't mattered at all when he was still working and dating her, is now suddenly a problem, because he has all this free time, and she has none. She has a lousy two weeks of vacation, and the occasional day off, and they just can't travel like he wants to. It's frustrating.

(He doesn't know what my involvement is these days, but as he went on about it, I felt like he was talking directly to me. Yeah, I understand more than he knows.)

I reminded him that he'd always said that he prefers women his own age. Maybe he needs a woman who is willing and able to pay her own way. Maybe all he needs is a platonic travel companion (implying, of course, me). I swear I said that innocently. (I want to travel. I need a travel companion, too.)

Twenty-some years ago, DD and I'd had a very brief fling, pushed together by NJ and May, who had thought we were ideal for each other. The only other person in the room who knows I had slept with DD is Roman, and it bothers him a lot. I have absolutely no sexual interest in DD. None. I have no desire whatsoever to repeat the experience. When I saw the look on Roman's face, and the look on DD's face, I wanted to say that, make it clear, or withdraw my suggestion. Bleck. Foot in mouth again.

There was a woman there who is at least ten years older than I. Back in March, a new member came to NJ's Green Eggs and Ham, and I noticed that this woman seemed fascinated by him. The expression on her face when she looked at him, the way she engaged him in intense conversation, the way she leaned into him. Last night, it was obvious she was still fascinated by him. When he left, he hugged her tightly and asked her when he'd see her again. And later, she said something about how the night before, she'd forgotten that she had xx in the refrigerator, so he and she'd "had no dessert after dinner." She'd cooked him dinner the night before? Wow. Why wow? He's got to be 40 years younger than she.

Wow. I'd love to know what's going on there.

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Post script - The next October, Roman decided to go to Israel to visit his Daughter, and invited me to go with him, as a "platonic travel companion".  I turned him down (I wanted to go, but The Man wasn't too happy about the idea, and pointed out that he being a man himself, he knew durn well what Roman was thinking.)  Wow.  I wonder if Roman got the idea from the conversation with DD.
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1342 Crocs2

Sunday, July 1, 2007

[Edit - fixed the date, per Roberta's comment. Nice catch, R.]

Thursday, when I met Daughter at the mall, she was wearing crocs. She said they were wonderful, and yes, I should get some. She slipped her foot out and I slipped mine in, and...

"Yuk! They have bumples in the bottom! I can't walk on bumples!"

I didn't know they have bumples.

My feet aren't princess feet, beautiful as they are. I like walking barefoot, and I can even walk on gravel barefoot, but at least on gravel, the bumps hit different parts of your feet. Bumples in your shoes hit the same spots over and over, and I can't stand that. The bumples take over my mind, and it's all I can feel.

Ok. I'm over my crocs lust.
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1341 Drums

Sunday, July 1, 2007

Doing the CD list has me listening to a lot of music I haven't heard in ages. I was listening to Natacha Atlas ("Diaspora") this evening, and suddenly I could clearly hear and identify two of the rhythms I had always before confused.

I have a little ceramic Indian bayan in the den that I used to play for practice when I was waiting for long downloads on the desktop. Since I got the laptop, it's been neglected. I started playing it along with the Diaspora CD, and I could keep up! I was doing pretty well! I wasn't getting off beat, and when they switched rhythms, I did too! Something must have clicked in my brain.

I got so excited I went to the back bedroom and got one of the big doumbeks, which I hadn't touched in months.

It's a little harder to keep up on the doumbek (it rebounds more slowly or something so I have to hit it sharper or it slows my hand down too much), but by George, I think I've finally, after two years of frustration, I've finally got it!

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An annoying post script - The doumbeks, with their man-made heads, are in zippered cases. The African djembe, which has a goatskin head with the hair on, was not in a case. The flippin' moths ate all the hair off my djembe. I'm pissed! My djembe is bald!!!
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1340 Moonlight

Sunday, July 1, 2007 (Late night, early morning, whatever....)

Moonlight at NJ's was nice. Naturally, I forgot a real camera, but I took two photos with the toy camera on my keyring. The first is the view from NJ's back porch. The small figure on the lawn on the left is FirstWoman, to give some idea of the scale. That hill is actually very steep. There's a bit of beach visible beyond FW.


This next one was taken from where FW is standing in the first photo. She wanted to smoke, so she had spread her blanket there. I joined her and we talked for a while, but I wanted to get back up to the group, so we moved her blanket up to near the porch, where Roman joined us a little later.


We didn't last long out there. Something was biting FW and Roman (as usual, I was being ignored by the bugs) and they couldn't take it any longer - especially Roman, who was wearing short sleeves and shorts (red short shorts - he took some ribbing for that), so we moved inside.

It was a small group tonight, maybe about 10 of us. People wondered why - I see no mystery. I figure a lot of people started their holiday at the end of work on Friday.

The moon finally came up about 9:30ish, I'm not sure, but it was full dark by then and the bugs weren't so active, so we all went outside again. Dirty Dave had brought a telescope, and we looked at the moon and at Jupiter. Jupiter's four moons were all lined up together. Kinda neat.

The moonlight shone over the water, and it was pretty, and then fireworks started somewhere across the river. Hyde Park is straight across, and the fireworks were south a bit, so we figure they had to be at the Culinary Institute. We got a good show.

Poor Roman had put a jacket on, but his legs were still getting all bit up, so we left everyone else still out on the porch and moved to the kitchen, where we were eventually joined by Dirty Dave. People started leaving, and the last hour was Roman, Dirty Dave, The Hippy, NJ, and me in the kitchen. Topics of conversation ranged from Roman's daughter's luggage having been lost on the way to Israel (she went through Heathrow yesterday, shortly after the terrorist threat there), to DD's single status, to Zig's mysterious friend in Boston, to online dating, to property easements.

They have convinced me that I have to get back the easement that I gave the guy who's building below me (for $1 and clearing the woods in my side yard), since it turns out he can't use it, but if he ever sells the land, the easement will go with it, and who knows what a new owner would do.

The Hippy and I talked about joining up at the Jazz Festival. We could, but he said he wasn't too enthusiastic about the groups they had scheduled, so he might not stay long. If he's not enthusiastic, I'm sure I won't be - that's something he knows something about. So I'm losing my enthusiasm, what little I had. And the fireworks we saw tonight might be enough for me. I don't know.

I got home a little after midnight, and on the way home I was thinking about the bug biting thing. It seems like every guy I have found attractive in "that way", has also been loved by bugs. Obie, Jay, Roman, The Man - they all attracted bugs as much as they attracted me. I don't think I've ever been attracted to a bug-repellent man. I guess the bugs and I both sense the same thing. The Man says it's testosterone. I can believe it.

That would be a cute line in an online dating profile: "Must attract bugs."
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1339 Weekend Plans

Saturday, June 30, 2007

FW just called to ask if I'd be going to NJKC's Moonlight party tonight. Yeah. Except for when Jay was sickest, and when I was incommunicado for a few years after he died, I've gone to every one for the past 21 years. (Wow! Has it really been that long?)

NJKC picks a summer weekend with a full moon, and we're supposed to sit on blankets on the mansion's lawn sloping down to the river, drink champagne, and watch the moon rise over the Hudson. It's beautiful, except that mostly no one actually goes outside. Usually everyone is inside, somebody looks out a window and says "Moon's coming up." Half the group glances out a window and says"Nice", and that's it.

Buncha deadheads.

Well, NJKC and May and a few others smoke inside, and I'm trying really hard to quit, so by darn this year I AM going to be out on a blanket! Roman and FW plan to attend for the first time in forever, so they will be outside, too, and Angie and Andi, if they're there, so I won't be alone this time. FW plans to bring "other stuff to smoke", and I can't be too near that, and I suspect it might feak out some others, so it may take some diplomacy. Or an upwind seat.

I'd like to go to the jazz festival and fireworks tomorrow. If I can find someone this evening who will go with me, maybe I will. Maybe I won't. The fireworks off the bridge are spectacular, but I noticed that they have a huge flag hanging from the bridge this year. I can't imagine they'd risk setting fire to it, so maybe the bridge won't be used this year. Ho hum. Having trouble caring, actually.
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1338 CD Music Collection

Saturday, June 30, 2007

The CD database is almost complete, but there seems to be a lot missing. There are only 272 entries. Last year when I went shopping for the CD cabinet, I counted, and got well over 300. There's some more in the vehicles that I haven't listed yet, but certainly not 80 of them!

For example, there's only one Anonymous 4 on the list, but I know I have several more Anon-4 CDs. My CD player holds five, and last December I loaded it with all Anon-4. So where are they now?

I don't understand.

As I suspected, there's a lot of dross in there, too. Some purchasing mistakes that I could get rid of and never miss. Like the Tuve throat singers of central Asia. Nice to have it to be able to listen carefully and analyze, but having done so, I never want to hear it again.
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1337 Table v. Database

Friday, June 29, 2007

Well, I screwed up.

The Man asked me a few weeks ago what my music collection consisted of, and I couldn't answer. It's pretty eclectic. There's no easy way to describe it as a whole. I'm likely to mention just whatever I listened to last.

Until the other night my closet shelves were so crowded I no longer knew what was there, and wore the same tops over and over. I'm doing the same thing with my CDs. There's so much there, many of which are trash, that I can't find the good stuff, or have forgotten what's there, so I listen to the same stuff over and over.

I decided to go through the collection, find out what I have, impose some order, make a list, maybe even find out if I have duplicates.

I've been having fun, pulling CDs out of the cabinet, popping some I haven't heard in ages into the CD drive, entering their data into an MS Word table.

Yup, a table. I screwed up.

On the desktop PC, I have lots of lists of things in database whatsises. I can sort those lists by column. Like by artist, album title, or genre (which is the way they should be organized anyway).

Guess what - a table is not a data base. You can't sort by artist or album title. You can't sort, period. My pretty list is just as useless as the jumble in the cabinet. It MATCHES the jumble in the cabinet. Latest interest on top. Sigh.

I have entered 152 CDs, of the close to 400 I have.

Sigh. Start over.
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1337 Museum and Berries

Friday, June 29, 2007

Went to the Maritime Museum today to send out the July membership reminders, 44 of them. The Board has approved all our suggested changes, so today's letters didn't promise any gifts or premiums. Once I send out the June membership cards and premiums next week, it will get a lot easier. Every envelope will contain exactly the same thing, finally.

This weekend is the Jazz Festival on the Rondout, with fireworks off the bridge Sunday evening. There are several small and a few large yachts docked at the museum already. The city is running shuttles from the uptown malls again, so parking's not a problem, but combining the jazz with the fireworks means that Sunday evening, when I'd want to go, the place will be packed. I have to think about it.

My black mulberry tree is fruiting. Yummy. The berries are best right off the tree and into the mouth, and only in the morning. I've got another young groundhog this year climbing the tree after the berries. He goes up easily, but to get down he has to go way out to the end of a branch until it bends close to the ground, so he can drop off.

There's a wild black raspberry plant taking over the hosta bed along the front and side of the garage. Every year I risk "the death of a thousand cuts" to cut it back, and every year it returns. The berries are especially juicy this year, I eat a handful or two every time I go out to the car, and I'm thinking maybe the better plan would be to cut back the hostas and let the raspberries have that bed. The hostas bore me. Of the ten or more plants, only one is variegated, the rest are a plain flat green, and hostas have butt-ugly flowers.

I may be shooting myself in the foot. One unrestrained raspberry plant would happily take over my entire yard in three years. AND, raspberries attract bears.

Anybody know a way to corral raspberries short of surrounding them with a six-foot apron of concrete?
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1336 Hafez, the CD

Friday, June 29, 2007

[Later edit - fixed the quote.]

The CD Roman gave me yesterday is "Hafiz: The Scent of Light" (he found it in a bin in a blank case, without cover or liner notes). He thought it was mid-eastern music. Bellydance.

It's not. Hafiz, or Hafez, was a fourteenth-century Sufi Persian poet. The CD is an "audio book" of translated readings from his romantic and spiritual poems, with Indian (sitar), Persian, and Arabic musical accompaniment. It's absolutely beautiful. I highly recommend it.

Hafez was the one who likened true love to "taking an iron hold on the painful swollen balls of a Divine rogue elephant, and not having the good fortune to die."

Ok, some verses aren't so beautiful.
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1335 Gift Day

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Good day today.

On my way to the mall to meet Daughter, I decided to drop off the sell-off report with Piper. His "open" flag was out, but the office door was locked. I walked to the cafe, but they were closing, so I tried the tavern across the street, and found him there. Drinking soda. Really, soda. He's losing weight, and trying very hard to stick to the diet.

He's very social. When I hang with him in the tavern, I meet all kinds of people. He knows everyone. The tavern seems to be the place for the village men to hang out during the day - it's like it should have a potbelly stove or something. I sat at the bar with him and some other guys for about 40 minutes, and had some iced tea.

Anyway, he was happy to see the numbers. He'll pass them on to The Angel.

Then I headed on down to the mall. Daughter wasn't too very late, and as she was walking into Macy's, where we were to meet, her phone rang, and it was my sister. So I got to talk to Sister while Daughter went to the ladies' room.

Daughter and I had a nice visit, with a little shopping, before she left to meet her Fishkill friends for dinner. When we parted, she gave me a bag of bath salts, skin cream, and some other stuff, in lieu of a kitten.

I was headed back up route 9, when it occurred to me that it was almost 7, and I hadn't had anything but my yogurt all day. I called Roman and said, "Hi! I happen to be in Poughkeepsie, and I'm going to be looking for someplace to eat. You interested? Have you eaten yet?" So I picked him up, and we went to a rustic little steakhouse tavern for dinner.

He gave me a CD he'd found at a used book sale, one he thought I'd be interested in. I listened to it on the way home, and it turns out it is not the mid-eastern music he thought it was from the title, it's something a lot more interesting. (I want to do some research before I say anything more about it.)

I got home about 9 pm, to find a very nice phone message on my machine from The Gypsy. Not only did she know I needed a message, to get that lonely "1" off the blink, the message was to invite me to a party in a few weeks, and to watch her perform in a Kingston restaurant next week. Feels nice in my tummy.

I feel like I got all kinds of appreciation and gifts today.

At around 10 I decided to go into the village to the all-night grocery store to buy a few things.

Now, from about 10:00 on, there is almost no traffic in the village. You often won't see another car in either direction. I frequently go at night to the gas station mini-mart or the post office, or the grocery store, because it's easy to find a place to park, and there's no jam-up at the light, people trying to make left turns. I can even pull a "U" in the middle of the deserted village street to return home - don't have to go around the block. (Which is a pain, because we have so few real "blocks".)

So I was surprised to see several cars pulled over in front of the post office and across the street, and people moving around in the street. As I got closer, I realized there was glass all over the street, and the people were trying to kick the larger pieces to the curb.

Accident? No. No mashed fenders....

It was beer bottles! There was an SUV with the hatch open, and the back was full of cases of beer. It looked like the hatch had popped open, and a case or two fell out. From the looks of some of the bottles, I'd say the cars parked to the side had driven over more than a few.

Given my recent tire woes, there was NO WAY I was going to try to navigate through that mine field.

I turned around in the post office driveway, and went around one of the more awkward blocks.

When I returned from the grocery store, the police had arrived and had blocked the street. The SUV was (mysteriously) gone, but the other cars were still there.

I wonder if they all have flat tires.


If I have a flat tomorrow, at least I will, for once, know where it came from. And actually, that's a GOOD feeling.
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1334 Thursday plans

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Daughter will be visiting friends about an hour south of here this evening, so we are going to meet about 4 pm at a mall near there. Do a little window shopping. When she suggested it on Tuesday, I had sort of assumed we'd meet at like 1 pm. Oh well. I'll take what I can get. Two hours is about our limit in concentrated time, anyway, before we start sniping.

Talked with Piper this morning. He's pleased, thinks I made the right choices of stuff to sell.

You know what's one of the saddest things? When I'm out all day or all evening, and when I get home the answering machine says "0", day after day. I've developed a habit of not erasing the latest message until I get another. That way, when I walk in the door, it says "1". The "1" on the machine now happens to be a message from June 15th. It's no longer comforting.

I'll be out today. Somebody please leave me a message.
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1333 Reducing the Stock(s)

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Piper will be pleased. Today I sold all the Eastman Kodak (capital loss!), Met Life, Verizon, Comcast, Progress Energy, AT&T, half of the Chevron, and some of the remaining Exxon/Mobile.

Piper wanted me to sell all of the British Petroleum, but for some reason, when I came to that one on the list, my dialing finger balked. No idea why, but when I get feelings like that, I listen. I also don't want to sell Marathon yet. It split 2 for 1 on 6/18/07, and right after a split is not a good time to sell (or buy, for that matter). Piper will just have to accept that.

All that remains now of that particular portfolio is a few companies in certificate form, a few companies in transition, one that I couldn't find the transfer agent for, and what's left of the oil companies. They'll all go next year.

Piper will put the proceeds into mutual funds and tax-free bonds.

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I spent most of the afternoon trying on clothes. I filled a large storage container with tops that are too large for me now, but are still nice (donate or sell), and threw out an equal amount that I'd be ashamed to admit I once wore. The closet shelves are looking a little bare now, but there was so much dross that I hadn't been able to find anything and had been wearing the same few things over and over. So that's ok. Even though there's less stuff, it's more available.

Slacks, jackets, blouses, and dresses on the racks are next. I know there's going to be a lot that is too big, or that I won't ever wear again. It takes me a while to admit that something is just plain unflattering (well, I admit it enough that don't wear it, but not enough to get rid of it), but I'm going to be tough. Out, out, ugly stuff!
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1332 Another "Huh?"

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

From TechDirt, "The Insight Company for the Information Age", at http://techdirt.com/articles/20060426/1012207.shtml.

I copied the whole thing here, because I know many people never click on links. So there. No excuses.

Stick To Downloading Child Porn, Not Movies, If You Want Short Jail Sentencesfrom the misplaced-priorities-much? dept.

We mentioned recently that politicians are looking to expand the DMCA, hoping to crack down on the possession of any tool that would help to circumvent DRM. As if this weren't draconian enough, some have noticed sentencing guidelines contained in the law that seem really out of synch with other federal statutes. The bill's new revisions would allow for 10-year sentences for music and software piracy. This is longer than the five years one can get for assaulting a police officer, and the seven years for downloading child pornography. This seems like misplaced priorities, and poor use of the government's criminal justice resources. This is particularly strange, in light of the fact that The Justice Department is stepping up their fight against child porn. This includes new measures that would create more liability for ISPs, among others (nevermind that such liability is misplaced, since the ISPs aren't actually the ones engaging in criminal behavior). Still, any law that would make piracy a more severe crime than child porn is an indication that the government has completely lost its priorities, and is totally at the whim of its industry donors..

1331 Update on the kitten

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

The kitten went to the vet yesterday for his first checkup.

He's definitely a "he", so the name Daughter has been using, "Titus", fits.
He's at least 8 weeks old.
He weighs 2 lb 2 oz.
FIV and Leukemia tests are negative.
His ears are clean, no mites.
He was frightened, but was a perfect gentleman.

Daughter reports he has calmed down, purrs and plays now, accepts her as his new Mommy.
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1330 Random Brain Clutter

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Having been in 12 schools between kindergarten and high school graduation, I've known many teachers. Some of them were certifiable whackos, and shouldn't have been allowed to influence children, especially since lessons you learn very early in life tend to stick with you forever, even after you know better.

About a week ago I trimmed three inches off my hair, so the shorter hair from the crown (accident with a straightening iron this past winter) could catch up. I miss the length. I was brushing it this morning, and wondering if I could somehow make it grow faster than the usual inch per month, scalp massage or something, and a weird picture popped into my head, with the caption "Do This! It works!"

When I was in middle school in Ottawa, Ontario, I had a teacher who told us odd stories. She'd interrupt a lesson to tell us stories that had nothing to do with anything. This is the same teacher who made us bring a spoon from home, and we'd line up every morning for a dose of cod liver oil. Every once in a while, in the spring and fall, we'd get castor oil.

She also told us that we could change the color of our eyeglasses frames by painting them with nail polish, and then when we got tired of that color, we could just peel it right off. My parents were furious when I ruined a pair that way.

Anyway, one day, in the middle of math class, she asked if we'd noticed that Swedish women all had very long braids. "Um, no?", we hadn't noticed.
"Well, they do. And do you know how they get them to grow so long?"
"Um, no?"
"When the women visit each other, they tie their braids together, and loop them over high hooks on the wall, and then hang there by their braids and knit and talk. That makes their hair grow faster."

So this morning, wondering if I could make my hair grow faster, I pictured myself hanging from a hook, and caught myself thinking I'd have to make the braids high on my head.

Brain clutter.
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1329 Pleasing Piper

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

This evening I decided I can't procrastinate any longer. I've got to do the dreaded research for the odd lots. I gathered all the communications, account reports, and dividend check stubs for so far this year. Then I opened the "To Sell" folder - and right on top was a list of all stock to be sold, along with the phone numbers, account numbers, and notes as to whether they were certificate or book-entry.

Wow! I must have done all the research sometime last year, maybe when I sold the first batches, and forgot I'd done it.

So all I had to do was check the numbers against current stubs, and locate the few certificates (neatly filed in the cabinet, yay me!) Ready to make the calls tomorrow.

I'm getting a little worried about stuff like that - not remembering that it was already done. I seem to lose bits and pieces, like what I did last Wednesday evening, for example, or Friday. The calendar is blank for those days, so so is my mind. Or when was the last time I'd talked to so-and-so. Sometimes things seem farther away in time than they are.

Other things seem condensed. Something that happened a week ago feels like it happened yesterday.

I'm having trouble with time. It gets mixed up, and passes without my noticing sometimes. Sometimes I get wrapped up in other things, like conversations, and don't notice time passing. Maybe it's that I don't have any kind of regular schedule. I go to bed when I finish whatever has captured my interest, sometimes at 1 am, sometimes at 6 am. I get up when I finish sleeping, sometimes at 8 am, sometimes at 1 pm. Then having nothing regular during the day exacerbates the problem. Some days I never even get dressed.

No wonder time has no meaning....
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1328 Deported?

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Today I wanted to download something, and the web site told me I couldn't have it, because they can download only to the United States. Huh? There was nowhere on the site for me to tell them where I am. I assume they get it from maybe the ISP location or something, like SiteMeter does? But that should say USA. I don't understand.

So a little later I went to another site, and the next page after the home page popped up in some Germanic-looking language. Well, that narrows it down a little, wither I have been deported, I mean. Again, they didn't ask where I am. They assumed.

My new broadband hookup seems to get whatever connection it can. When I tell SiteMeter to log my own visits to my blog, it has shown me variously in Fresno, Chicago, Annapolis, Boston, all over the country, ... but not out of the country.

I wonder where I am today, exactly?
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1327 Tire

Tuesday, June 26, 2006

I pumped up the Aerio's tire, and over a period of a week sitting in the driveway it deflated again. So I pumped it up today (a small compressor that plugs into the lighter, very handy!) and drove to the tire place in Rhinebeck.

A nail. Again. This is something like the third or fourth puncture I've had in the past five months, and I don't drive "dangerous" places, like farmyards or something. Just highways and residential streets. OLD residential streets - no heavy construction. I don't understand.

The minivan also has a slow leak - slower than the Aerio. Also in a front tire. I pumped it up Monday of last week, and I've driven it at least 200 miles since then, and it's now down 10 psi from 35.

I've got eight brand new tires, and if this keeps up, by the end of the year all eight will have plug patches.

Something's wrong.
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1326 A Moment Caught

Monday, June 25, 2007

[Later edit - changed "never met" to "don't really know" the couple, because I met them at my friend's wedding, many years ago.]

I'm posting this photo without permission, because it's so beautiful.

This is the parents of an old friend. In the early eighties, the friend was a college co-op at The Company. It was our task to teach him how to be a good "Beamer". His father is now in a nursing home, well into dementia. He had what they think may have been a stroke this past week.

My friend took this photo on one of his mother's visits to his father last fall (I believe), and even though I don't really know the couple, my heart melts every time I look at it.

Please send positive vibes their way.


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1325 Into the Fray Once More?

Monday, June 25, 2007

Ever notice how a lot of the folks who show up at the Idol or Inventor tryouts are social misfits? I wonder what that means - both that they show up with such frequency, and that we enjoy watching them so much.

Actually, that explains it.

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Somebody mentioned the personality test on eharmony, one of the few dating sites I hadn't tried back when I was doing that. I'm a sucker for those tests, so I checked it out. Unfortunately, you have to register to take the test, and I was feeling flush (and a bit neglected by The Man - he warned me that had been a problem in his past relationships, you'd think he'd learn something from that), so I did.

The test results were neither extraordinary nor illuminating, so I wandered away. Only to find my alternate email id, the next morning, chock full of "matches". Sixteen of them. And growing. Ack! What do I do now?

Four of them rejected me right off, most for distance, but the guy who checked the "no chemistry" and "differing values" choices kinda hurt my feelings. (Chemistry? Sheesh. Must be my photo, huh?)

One of them "initiated communication" right away. Hmmmm. I really don't want to get involved in this right now. On the other hand, the eharmony process (controlled communication) is new and different, and I am curious. He chose and sent six multiple-choice questions from a list provided by eharmony, for me to answer. Then I get to choose questions for him.

Maybe this isn't fair of me, since I'm not really looking, but ... curiosity rules. I answered the questions, and sent him a set.

I'm not going to "initiate communications" with anyone, but I think I'll follow this one through. Just to see how it goes. (Although there is that one guy in Beltsville, MD, who sounds interesting....)

Am I bad?
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1324 Library, Scanner

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Yesterday I volunteered at the Kingston Library. They were starting up the summer reading program, with a story-telling magician, crafts, a speech by the mayor, and ice cream. Little kids. Looked like 9 or 10 and under, maybe. One of my adoptive pen-pal boys, from the picnic a few weeks ago, had brought his little sister, and I think he might have a crush on me. He and I did some intricate paper-folding.

I usually don't do too well in a room full of small children, too much random activity going on around me scatters my brain, but the pen-pal picnics and this program weren't too bad. They kept the kids organized and directed, so I was able to appreciate them.

I almost didn't find the library. I had the address, but as usual, few of the buildings on the street had visible numbers. It was a very residential street. I finally just parked well beyond the number I was looking for, and walked back up the street. Turns out it was a building I had rejected as obviously abandoned. It's a huge very old brick building, surrounded by blacktop and a high, badly rusted, bent and leaning chain link fence covered in weedy ivy. I believe it was once the Sojourner Truth School. Gates in the fence were all chained closed. Took me a while to find the one open gate, the one to the parking lot.

Inside the fence, the building is in good condition, and inside the building, it's nice. I'm glad. I hate to see old buildings torn down just because they're old. I do wish the city would do something about that fence, though. I guess they think they need it - I drove past the building today, and the gates to the parking lot were chained. High graffiti neighborhood, maybe?

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I bought a new flatbed scanner today. The old one is about 15 years old, I swear, and takes forever to do even a B&W prescan. I used to go make a cup of tea when I was scanning something, and would actually go to the print shop in the village if I needed more than two pages copied. I was never unhappy with the quality, just the time. Also, Jay had a habit of discarding directions (probably the ONLY paper he ever threw out, I guess he considered it insulting), so I never knew what half the options meant, and was afraid to change any settings. This one is fast, and I HAVE THE BOOK!

I'm happy. Gonna scan in lots and lots of old photos.
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1323 Cat Chupping

Sunday, June 24, 2007

I have mentioned that a characteristic of Maine Coon Cats is their "chupping" when they're watching prey they can't get to, like outside a window.

This is not a Maine Coon (unless it's a very young one, or has some Coon in its background), and it's watching a moth. It's a good example of the chupping.


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