Wednesday, August 1, 2007
I haven't updated in DAYS! Busy. The previous post left off Saturday afternoon. After writing that post, I went for a walk on the roads around the hotel. I returned across a lawn behind the hotel, and met Jasper. Jasper changed all my plans for the next few days.
Jasper is an American shorthair gray tabby, white trim, round face with huge eyes and enormous curved and tufted lynx ears, spots on his back and stripes on his legs, probably about five months old. The housekeepers and reception desk women say he turned up at the hotel as a kitten just before the flooding (was that last April?), and they were amazed he made it through. He's a very small cat with tiny feet, but he's solid muscle. He begs food from the hotel guests and staff by being cute.
I sat on a bench to watch him. Any time anyone walked out the door or through the parking lot, especially men, Jasper'd run over with a tiny high-pitched "Meee, meeee", and walk next to them calling, roll on the ground in front of them, waving his paws in the air, duck down behind the curb with only his ears showing and one paw up patting the sidewalk, and so on. I noticed that about one in six men (but, oddly, not the women) would return in a few minutes with a piece of meat or cheese.
He skittered away from hands, allowed no one to touch him.
This doorway seemed to be the "break" gathering place, and as staff came out to sit for a while, they all expressed a wish that someone would adopt him, but no one had been able to catch him. A shelter wouldn't take him unless someone could catch him. Traps had been tried, but he was too suspicious.
I decided to catch him.
I went to a Target and bought a litter pan and some litter, some food in foil packets, a food dish and a water dispenser, and a carrier (animals were allowed in the hotel, so this was in case I caught him and would have him overnight. The receptionist on duty said she wouldn't charge me the surcharge if I could do it). By 8 pm he was eating next to my leg. By 9 pm I was petting him while he ate. By 10 pm I was able to run both hands all over his body, even without the food there. Around 11 pm I tried to pick him up and he freaked. At midnight one of the receptionists came out, and he walked over to her and allowed her to pet him. She was amazed. He'd never gotten that close before.
Then I picked him up and tried to put him into the carrier. I had the carrier standing up on end, and was going to lower him in tail first, but he seemed to know what the carrier was, and all four legs shot out to the sides, and I couldn't fit him in. It took another hour to regain his trust.
A little after 2 am he suddenly took off. I was checking out the next morning, so I figured I'd try again then.
The next morning, Sunday, I sat out there for a few hours, but he never showed. The staff women said he was rarely around in the morning. So I checked out and left with an empty carrier, and went to Daughter's.
She and Hercules have a little experience capturing feral cats, and Hercules said that we should get a dark laundry bag. The opening is larger than the carrier, and when the cat is in the bottom of the bag, being in a dark enclosed space seems to calm them. Then you can stuff the bag into the carrier, and the cat will get out of the bag on his own.
Sounded good to me.
So that evening, the three of us went back to the hotel, with leather gloves, a towel, and a black nylon laundry bag. We waited a very long time, and the kitty didn't show up. Daughter and Hercules gave up and decided to go home, and as I was hugging them goodbye, one of the housekeepers drove up, asked if I was looking for the cat, and said he was around the corner on the other side of the building. Sure enough, he was flirting with some guy sitting on the curb talking on a cell phone. I called, and he came. I gave him some food, and while he was eating, I got a good grip on his scruff.
That's an odd thing about cats. Even one who will not allow you to get a confining grip on his body, WILL allow you to get a good handful of scruff. Once past kittenhood, you should never actually pick a cat up by the scruff - it's very painful once their skin hardens and they put on weight - but grasping the scruff seems to actually be calming and comforting.
Once I could hold him in place by the scruff, Hercules picked him up with the gloves, and popped him into the bag held open by Daughter.
It was NOT calming!
Hercules went into mild shock. He was standing there holding a bag full of hurricane-whirled knives! It was pretty unbelievable. Within seconds, there were already rents appearing in the bag, in like twenty different spots. Daughter yelled "Put him on the grass! Put him on the grass1'. We laid the bag down, and I threw the towel over the bag, and crouched over it, holding Jasper still. We slid cat, bag, and towel into the carrier, pulled the towel out, and within seconds the cat was out of the bag. He attacked the door and tried to bite his way out, but then calmed down very quickly.
The housekeeper lady had gotten on the phone and spread the word, so by the time I left, half a dozen of the staff had come down to thank me and wish us luck.
He was very quiet in the car for the 2.5 hour drive home, even slept some.
My laundry room has a washer, dryer, and utility sink along one wall, next to the door to the garage, a half bath on the opposite wall, and shelves on the end wall. I decided that would be the best place to confine him.
When I let him out of the carrier, he wandered around a bit, spotted the shelves, and climbed straight up them as if they were stairs. He spent the night behind some boxes on the top shelf. By Monday morning he had moved to behind the washing machine, and except to eat some food and drink some water, and piddle in the middle of the floor (ignoring the litter box), most likely during the quiet of the night, he hasn't come out of there. I can see him if I lean between the sink and the washer, and he looks up at me with those big eyes, but there's no reaction to all my soft words. It's now Wednesday evening. I'm wondering if he will ever trust me enough to come out. I don't know where he's pooping, or even if he is. There's no odor.
Sigh.
The name "Jasper", by the way, I swear came from him. Naturally, when I was thinking I'd adopt him, I was thinking of names, even though I am a firm believer that a cat names him- or herself, if you wait a bit. But not usually in this fashion or this insistently. Several names ran through my mind. "Jasper" was NOT one of my ideas. "Jasper" jumped loudly into my mind from outside and wouldn't leave. Every time I considered another name, "Jasper" shouted it down. I don't even LIKE the name Jasper. If kitty insists that it's Jasper, that will go on his vet records, but I'll call him "Jazz".
And that was my weekend in NJ.
.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
1405 Dear Diary - Weekend in NJ Part 1
Saturday, July 28, 2007
So, Thursday I drove down, checked into hotel, went over to Daughter's, had dinner there, other Mother-in-law (K-Mom (I'm S-Mom)) arrived, chatter, natter, back to hotel, The Man arrived, talk, etc.
Friday, bye-bye to The Man, he went to work, Daughter was working until 2 pm, back to Daughter's in afternoon, play with kittens (Titus is batty. He's NEVER still!), chatter, natter.
Now, I thought we were going to the Monmouth County Fair Friday evening. A friend of Daughter was clogging that evening, and Daughter very much wanted to see her. I thought Hercules knew Daughter wanted to go to the fair. But sometime in the late afternoon, Hercules and his mother decided they wanted to see the Simpsons movie, and, so, we went to the movie. Daughter was very tired, having got little sleep during the week, and I was tired, having got little sleep the night before, and Daughter and I mostly slept through the movie. The fact that it was freezing in the theater contributed.
Movie review - if you're not a rabid Simpsons fan, forget it.
The theater was near where Daughter and Hercules are buying a house (a different house - the "ugly house" got to be too much of a hassle, this one is progressing much more quickly), so we went to look at the house. Couldn't go inside, the sellers still live there, but we walked around the neighborhood, which is much nicer than by the ugly house. It's about a block from Raritan Bay(?), so we then walked along the seawall along the bay, too. Very nice. (Quite a hike on rock and broken concrete in high heeled sandals, by the way.)
Then dinner. The waiter forgot to bring half our food (forgot Hercules' french fries, K-Mom's coffee, Daughter's salad, and my soup, and I'm not exaggerating!), and we had to wrestle him to the ground to get the check, and never did catch him to pay the tab - I had to go into the bar and threaten mayhem if someone didn't take my money, NOW!
So we never made it to the fair.
Daughter had requested that I come this weekend. So here I am. Surprise - they're registered in a race this morning, and the three of them are going to an upstate conference (on a topic I don't care to go to) this afternoon and evening, staying over in a hotel there tonight. I guess Daughter thought I could amuse myself with The Man today and tonight. Of course, nobody told me ahead of time, so nobody told him, and he's someone you have to schedule way ahead of time, so here I sit. I brought some books and movie DVDs. Friday morning The Man said I really have to see Sicko, and I mentioned it to Hercules, and he, um, had a copy, which he copied for me, so that's my plans for the evening.
Tomorrow I'll check out, visit the kids a bit more, and then head home.
And I'm drinking The Man's beer. Strange. I don't drink beer.
.
So, Thursday I drove down, checked into hotel, went over to Daughter's, had dinner there, other Mother-in-law (K-Mom (I'm S-Mom)) arrived, chatter, natter, back to hotel, The Man arrived, talk, etc.
Friday, bye-bye to The Man, he went to work, Daughter was working until 2 pm, back to Daughter's in afternoon, play with kittens (Titus is batty. He's NEVER still!), chatter, natter.
Now, I thought we were going to the Monmouth County Fair Friday evening. A friend of Daughter was clogging that evening, and Daughter very much wanted to see her. I thought Hercules knew Daughter wanted to go to the fair. But sometime in the late afternoon, Hercules and his mother decided they wanted to see the Simpsons movie, and, so, we went to the movie. Daughter was very tired, having got little sleep during the week, and I was tired, having got little sleep the night before, and Daughter and I mostly slept through the movie. The fact that it was freezing in the theater contributed.
Movie review - if you're not a rabid Simpsons fan, forget it.
The theater was near where Daughter and Hercules are buying a house (a different house - the "ugly house" got to be too much of a hassle, this one is progressing much more quickly), so we went to look at the house. Couldn't go inside, the sellers still live there, but we walked around the neighborhood, which is much nicer than by the ugly house. It's about a block from Raritan Bay(?), so we then walked along the seawall along the bay, too. Very nice. (Quite a hike on rock and broken concrete in high heeled sandals, by the way.)
Then dinner. The waiter forgot to bring half our food (forgot Hercules' french fries, K-Mom's coffee, Daughter's salad, and my soup, and I'm not exaggerating!), and we had to wrestle him to the ground to get the check, and never did catch him to pay the tab - I had to go into the bar and threaten mayhem if someone didn't take my money, NOW!
So we never made it to the fair.
Daughter had requested that I come this weekend. So here I am. Surprise - they're registered in a race this morning, and the three of them are going to an upstate conference (on a topic I don't care to go to) this afternoon and evening, staying over in a hotel there tonight. I guess Daughter thought I could amuse myself with The Man today and tonight. Of course, nobody told me ahead of time, so nobody told him, and he's someone you have to schedule way ahead of time, so here I sit. I brought some books and movie DVDs. Friday morning The Man said I really have to see Sicko, and I mentioned it to Hercules, and he, um, had a copy, which he copied for me, so that's my plans for the evening.
Tomorrow I'll check out, visit the kids a bit more, and then head home.
And I'm drinking The Man's beer. Strange. I don't drink beer.
.
1404 Not Goodbye
Saturday, July 28, 2007
[Later - edited out parts which do not belong to me.]
The Man reserved a suite for us in a Residence Inn near Daughter's home. Livingroom, bedroom, kitchen, bath. We had an opportunity for lots of talk on Thursday and Friday, and I'm feeling a bit better about him. After my experience with Roman I am extremely "gun-shy" about being played, and I had been feeling neglected, which leads to feeling used, and I was fully prepared to tell him I didn't want to see him any more.
It's not like he convinced me otherwise. I haven't been sold a bill of goods. He explained what his priorities have been lately, and why, and I completely understand. He also said that those priorities were unlikely to change in the near future, and I would have to make my own decision as to whether I could accept that or not, but he couldn't do much about it.
Now that I understand a little bit about what's been going on with him, I can accept it. (I think he could at least do a better job of letting me know what's going on, so I'm not left to draw my own conclusions, but he's very reluctant to dump complaints and problems on others.) That doesn't mean everything is wonderful, but it's at least sort of ok. I guess. I'm willing to give it a little more time and patience. He doesn't need me chewing on his backside, too.
What's bugging me now is that I could alleviate at least one of his problems, and he probably knows that. I respect that he hasn't asked. If he did, it would probably scare me off. We're not "there" yet. It bothers me a little that I'm reluctant to volunteer, too. I don't know him well enough to know whether he'd be grateful or offended.
And I don't know which I'd prefer.
.
[Later - edited out parts which do not belong to me.]
The Man reserved a suite for us in a Residence Inn near Daughter's home. Livingroom, bedroom, kitchen, bath. We had an opportunity for lots of talk on Thursday and Friday, and I'm feeling a bit better about him. After my experience with Roman I am extremely "gun-shy" about being played, and I had been feeling neglected, which leads to feeling used, and I was fully prepared to tell him I didn't want to see him any more.
It's not like he convinced me otherwise. I haven't been sold a bill of goods. He explained what his priorities have been lately, and why, and I completely understand. He also said that those priorities were unlikely to change in the near future, and I would have to make my own decision as to whether I could accept that or not, but he couldn't do much about it.
Now that I understand a little bit about what's been going on with him, I can accept it. (I think he could at least do a better job of letting me know what's going on, so I'm not left to draw my own conclusions, but he's very reluctant to dump complaints and problems on others.) That doesn't mean everything is wonderful, but it's at least sort of ok. I guess. I'm willing to give it a little more time and patience. He doesn't need me chewing on his backside, too.
What's bugging me now is that I could alleviate at least one of his problems, and he probably knows that. I respect that he hasn't asked. If he did, it would probably scare me off. We're not "there" yet. It bothers me a little that I'm reluctant to volunteer, too. I don't know him well enough to know whether he'd be grateful or offended.
And I don't know which I'd prefer.
.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
1403 'Nother Duh
There was a story on TV news tonight about a town's testing of their emergency warning sirens.
It reminded me of The Company's tests: "Blaaaaap! This is a test of the emergency announcement system. If you cannot hear this message, call extension xxxx."
Duh?
A bunch of us decided to call every half hour on a day they didn't do the test, and tell them we didn't hear the message. It took them a few rounds to "get it".
.
It reminded me of The Company's tests: "Blaaaaap! This is a test of the emergency announcement system. If you cannot hear this message, call extension xxxx."
Duh?
A bunch of us decided to call every half hour on a day they didn't do the test, and tell them we didn't hear the message. It took them a few rounds to "get it".
.
1402 Caca-phony
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
I'm working through the to do list. Paid bills, set the recorder, cleaned the litter box, wrapped and mailed a birthday present, bought groceries (mostly cat food), packed a suitcase (except for the clothes), watered all the plants, updated the calendar, copied some CDs, printed off some lists. I still have to do laundry, wash dishes, and clean out the car.
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I like my new TVs, but there's a problem.
I often have four on at the same time, in the kitchen (digital), livingroom (analog), bedroom (analog), and den (digital), so that as I move around the house I can listen or glance if anything interesting is on and not miss much.
The problem is that the digital broadcast is four seconds behind the analog.
Cacophony.
Not pleasant.
.
I'm working through the to do list. Paid bills, set the recorder, cleaned the litter box, wrapped and mailed a birthday present, bought groceries (mostly cat food), packed a suitcase (except for the clothes), watered all the plants, updated the calendar, copied some CDs, printed off some lists. I still have to do laundry, wash dishes, and clean out the car.
------------------------------------
I like my new TVs, but there's a problem.
I often have four on at the same time, in the kitchen (digital), livingroom (analog), bedroom (analog), and den (digital), so that as I move around the house I can listen or glance if anything interesting is on and not miss much.
The problem is that the digital broadcast is four seconds behind the analog.
Cacophony.
Not pleasant.
.
1401 Warning
This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
- murder (5x)
- hell (4x)
- sex (3x)
- xxx (2x)
- steal (1x)
Harumph! I'm insulted!
I was hoping for at least an "X".
[Later: Good Grief! "Girl with a one-track mind" got a PG!!!!! She's cleaner than I am? This is very very wrong!]
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
1400 Priorities, Blah
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
I'm supposed to be doing laundry and paying bills so I can go to the museum tomorrow, and to New Jersey Thursday.
Instead, I've spent much of the evening writing emails. I wanted to peruse Steve-in-England's websites, and then fill him in on my past 20-plus years. Unfortunately, I think more than I write, and I write slowly. (If I wrote everything I thought, recalling the past twenty years, the email would be a novel.) And I couldn't spend all that time on him without also paying attention to more immediate friends.
I've been typing a lot today. I'm surprised my fingernails haven't worn down.
I think I'm going to have to go to the museum on Monday.
.
I'm supposed to be doing laundry and paying bills so I can go to the museum tomorrow, and to New Jersey Thursday.
Instead, I've spent much of the evening writing emails. I wanted to peruse Steve-in-England's websites, and then fill him in on my past 20-plus years. Unfortunately, I think more than I write, and I write slowly. (If I wrote everything I thought, recalling the past twenty years, the email would be a novel.) And I couldn't spend all that time on him without also paying attention to more immediate friends.
I've been typing a lot today. I'm surprised my fingernails haven't worn down.
I think I'm going to have to go to the museum on Monday.
.
1399 Shopping
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
My ears are not pierced, so I don't wear expensive earrings (I worry about them falling off, although in my entire life I have lost only one earring, and I wasn't even wearing it at the time it escaped), and it's getting harder and harder to find decent clip earrings. They don't exist in local stores, except for that one rack in the el-cheapo store.
When I decide I need a particular color or style, I shop on eBay for them, or the online antique and vintage stores.
Well, three weeks ago I bought a beautiful rose satin jacket, and I decided that the perfect thing to wear under it would be a black sequined tube top. I hit virtually every clothing store in two counties-worth of malls, and no one can even remember seeing one in ages.
I gave up.
About the same time I had bought a pink satin Chinese blouse, and decided I needed pink pearl earrings to wear with it. Found two pair (one stud, one dangle) on eBay - nice, real pearls, and inexpensive.
Did YOU make the connection?
I can't believe it took so long for my lightbulb to go on.
I found six black sequined tube tops on eBay, and six more in online vintage and dance supply stores.
Duh.
.
My ears are not pierced, so I don't wear expensive earrings (I worry about them falling off, although in my entire life I have lost only one earring, and I wasn't even wearing it at the time it escaped), and it's getting harder and harder to find decent clip earrings. They don't exist in local stores, except for that one rack in the el-cheapo store.
When I decide I need a particular color or style, I shop on eBay for them, or the online antique and vintage stores.
Well, three weeks ago I bought a beautiful rose satin jacket, and I decided that the perfect thing to wear under it would be a black sequined tube top. I hit virtually every clothing store in two counties-worth of malls, and no one can even remember seeing one in ages.
I gave up.
About the same time I had bought a pink satin Chinese blouse, and decided I needed pink pearl earrings to wear with it. Found two pair (one stud, one dangle) on eBay - nice, real pearls, and inexpensive.
Did YOU make the connection?
I can't believe it took so long for my lightbulb to go on.
I found six black sequined tube tops on eBay, and six more in online vintage and dance supply stores.
Duh.
.
Monday, July 23, 2007
1398 Blam!
Monday, July 23, 2007
This is a video of a bunch of guys shooting, and recoil blows them across the room. [Feeds may not show the video - click on the post title to see it.]
I was reminded of the time the guys on the rifle range at the base gave me a big one. It was so heavy and my arms were so short I couldn't hold it up. I kept tipping forward. So they had me lie on my stomach on the gravel to shoot it.
This was 1961. No sissy ear protection. I was 16 years old, and weighed about 103 lbs.
It threw me three feet back on my belly, skidding, skinned up my elbows, thighs, and hip bones really badly, dislocated my collarbone, and left my ears ringing for a week. I've been a tad hard of hearing in my right ear ever since.
But I hit the target ... and decided not to take up elephant hunting.
.
This is a video of a bunch of guys shooting, and recoil blows them across the room. [Feeds may not show the video - click on the post title to see it.]
I was reminded of the time the guys on the rifle range at the base gave me a big one. It was so heavy and my arms were so short I couldn't hold it up. I kept tipping forward. So they had me lie on my stomach on the gravel to shoot it.
This was 1961. No sissy ear protection. I was 16 years old, and weighed about 103 lbs.
It threw me three feet back on my belly, skidding, skinned up my elbows, thighs, and hip bones really badly, dislocated my collarbone, and left my ears ringing for a week. I've been a tad hard of hearing in my right ear ever since.
But I hit the target ... and decided not to take up elephant hunting.
.
1397 Phone Change
Monday, July 23, 2007
I got some business done this morning. I am so proud of myself! (Yeah, sarcasm.)
I have reservations for my visit to Daughter this coming weekend.
I called and reserved tickets for a show in August.
I called and cancelled the old ISP, now that I've had the highspeed link for about a month and it seems to be working.
I called and cancelled the second house line.
I called and changed the telephone service on the remaining main house line to one which provides unlimited free nationwide long distance, and includes call waiting, caller id, and transfer of calls to my cell phone - all for less than I'd been paying for regular service on the two lines.
Life is good.
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In the previous post I'd mentioned the lawyer I had dated briefly in February of 2006. He had given me his family homepage URL, so after thinking about it a bit ("Wonder what he's doing now?") I looked him up. No, it's NOT stalking! Not the same thing at all. He put himself out there so that people could look! He expects and welcomes it.
Well, I got a bit of a surprise.
I had told him back then that I was going to be very slow and cautious about getting into physical involvement, and I told him why. He didn't react well to that. I figured that he just wanted someone to sleep with RIGHT NOW!, and that's why. That turned me off. It turns out on his side it might have been more subtle, that he saw himself in my story and realized he wasn't ready, that he could be unfair to me. In fact, he said "I guess I'm not really ready", and I agreed. But I was thinking about the divorce hangover and the shingles.
His site is mostly photos, and there's a lot more there now than back when. Almost all of them are of him and a woman, on vacation, at events, having fun, snuggling. Photos from long before we met, and from long after.
It looks like he had and has a long-term relationship, and he must have started up with me during perhaps a small disagreement, "on a break".
Thank you, Mr. Lawyer, for not involving me in a triangle. Your lady is very pretty, you look happy (I notice the additional pounds), and I hope you'll remember next time you have a spat - don't go looking for someone else until you're sure it's over. With luck and communication, maybe it won't be over.
.
I got some business done this morning. I am so proud of myself! (Yeah, sarcasm.)
I have reservations for my visit to Daughter this coming weekend.
I called and reserved tickets for a show in August.
I called and cancelled the old ISP, now that I've had the highspeed link for about a month and it seems to be working.
I called and cancelled the second house line.
I called and changed the telephone service on the remaining main house line to one which provides unlimited free nationwide long distance, and includes call waiting, caller id, and transfer of calls to my cell phone - all for less than I'd been paying for regular service on the two lines.
Life is good.
------------------------------------
In the previous post I'd mentioned the lawyer I had dated briefly in February of 2006. He had given me his family homepage URL, so after thinking about it a bit ("Wonder what he's doing now?") I looked him up. No, it's NOT stalking! Not the same thing at all. He put himself out there so that people could look! He expects and welcomes it.
Well, I got a bit of a surprise.
I had told him back then that I was going to be very slow and cautious about getting into physical involvement, and I told him why. He didn't react well to that. I figured that he just wanted someone to sleep with RIGHT NOW!, and that's why. That turned me off. It turns out on his side it might have been more subtle, that he saw himself in my story and realized he wasn't ready, that he could be unfair to me. In fact, he said "I guess I'm not really ready", and I agreed. But I was thinking about the divorce hangover and the shingles.
His site is mostly photos, and there's a lot more there now than back when. Almost all of them are of him and a woman, on vacation, at events, having fun, snuggling. Photos from long before we met, and from long after.
It looks like he had and has a long-term relationship, and he must have started up with me during perhaps a small disagreement, "on a break".
Thank you, Mr. Lawyer, for not involving me in a triangle. Your lady is very pretty, you look happy (I notice the additional pounds), and I hope you'll remember next time you have a spat - don't go looking for someone else until you're sure it's over. With luck and communication, maybe it won't be over.
.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
1396 Sunday
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Today I touched up my roots - that "Jay Leno" patch right at the top of my forehead.
Then I headed for Phonecia (finally). The store has my name, number, and request stuck right above the cash register. They hadn't called because a new delivery hadn't come in. I got the card with the manager's name and the store number, so I'll have to call to see if they can special-order for me.
Returning home I decided to turn onto route 212 to Woodstock. I've been very surprised at how low the water level is everywhere, it seems like we've had a lot of rain, more rainy days than sunny, and I wanted to look at Cooper Lake. Rte. 212 from Mt. Tremper to Bearsville is a nice drive. It winds back and forth across the (almost empty) creek, and there are beautiful views of the mountains.
At one point near the hamlet of Willow, I saw cars parked all along the road, and I wondered what was going on. That reminded me that Barushka's Tribal Bonfire Hafla was today. I briefly considered going straight home to get the directions and then heading to the hafla, but it's way the heck down by New Paltz, and I was starting to feel guilty about how much I have to do and how little I've been accomplishing, and I just decided to stay home. I suspect I missed a good evening. It was good last year, when it poured, forcing everyone to cram into a large carport.
I took the circuit around the Cooper Lake. It was a bit low, but not as bad as others.
I went on through Woodstock. There was some kind of protest demonstration going on at the village green, and it look like they had a drum circle. I wanted to stop, but there were no parking spaces anywhere.
From there I took county 32 down to Kingston. I have often driven that road at night, in the winter, in snow, after a drink or two, and I was just fine with it. So it always amazes me when I drive it in daylight. Man, that's a scary road! It must have been laid out by a snake. I guess the difference is that at night I drive it a lot slower, so I don't notice the curves as much.
Instead of taking 9W to the bridge, on impulse I took a backroad that dumped me onto state 32, thence to the bridge and home.
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On the show "Survivor", the last three survivors "do the torch tour", visiting the torches of everyone who had been eliminated, and remembering them.
Today was almost like a torch tour for me.
Looking at the Esopus near Phonecia reminded me of a guy I knew in the early 80's, Steve. He was in Kingston on an international assignment with The Company. He returned to England and got married. When Daughter and I were in England in the late 80s we tried to get together (Daughter and I were on a narrowboat on the canals, moving around a lot), but there was a lot of phone tag and it didn't happen. I wondered what happened to him.
Then Cooper Lake reminded me of one of my online dates. He was a retired lawyer. We had a few dates, but I was still smarting from male betrayal, and he was suffering from a nasty divorce and a bad case of shingles, and neither of us was very good company. He had taken me to Cooper's Lake and said that he liked to sit on the bank and read. Today was one of the few nice days we've had lately, and when I passed the spot he liked, I thought of him. I wondered what had happened to him. It's more than a year later. I wouldn't mind meeting him again. I know where he lives, and where he has his coffee and paper on nice mornings, but ... no ....
Driving down county 32, I passed a building lot on the side of a mountain, next to the creek, that Jay loved. He had tried to buy it when he first arrived in NY from Texas, but the seller, although willing to sell, had all kinds of legal problems, and after six months of haggling, Jay gave up and bought this lot. But the other was always his first choice, and every time we passed it, he mourned it. Well, I know what happened to him.
I turned off 9w onto the back road on impulse, mainly because I hadn't been down that road in more than 30 years. The apartment where Raleigh lived is still there. I didn't think it would be. He was the first guy I seriously dated in this area after leaving Ex#1, way back in 1968. He was from North Carolina by way of Chicago. The romance ended when I discovered he had a wife and three kids still in Chicago. I wondered what happened to him.
Perhaps a half mile down the road was the apartment of a friend of Raleigh's, who made like he wanted to comfort me, but then attempted to rape me. I don't much care what happened to him.
I am the survivor. So many others are gone. All those burned-out torches.
------------------------------
I was curious, so when I got home, I Googled Steve. I found him! There're five or six folks with his name, but there was only one whose Google blurb mentioned England, and The Company. His homepage has him still in England, still in love with his lady, still working for The Company, and that's sure enough his picture. I sent off an email, and got an immediate reply! How cool is that? He was happy to hear from me. We've got some catching up to do.
So then, curiosity, I tried for Raleigh. He has a rather unusual but charming name, but even so, I didn't expect to find him. I didn't. I did find a young man with the same name, quite the athlete, the location fits, and the kid looks just like the original. Lighter complexion, but the same face. Interesting. I wonder....
One of the five cold torches has been relit, and it's a good one.
That's pretty durn neat.
.
1395 Van Setback
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Roman had said that he always makes copies of CDs to take in the car, never the originals. Until this laptop arrived, that was difficult for me, but last night I made some copies of favorites and it was easy.
A CD that The Man had made for me works on the PC, the house player, and in ONE of the vehicles, but won't play in the other (I forget which). So after I burned the CDs last night, I took them outside and tried them in the Aerio and the minivan. They worked.
However - I haven't driven the minivan in a little over a week, and it was fine then. Last night when I started it, the "check engine" light went on.
Not again. Please not again! Not after thousands of dollars, rental cars, and the forced purchase of the Aerio last year.
I opened and tightened the gas cap, and we'll see if that fixes it.
.
Roman had said that he always makes copies of CDs to take in the car, never the originals. Until this laptop arrived, that was difficult for me, but last night I made some copies of favorites and it was easy.
A CD that The Man had made for me works on the PC, the house player, and in ONE of the vehicles, but won't play in the other (I forget which). So after I burned the CDs last night, I took them outside and tried them in the Aerio and the minivan. They worked.
However - I haven't driven the minivan in a little over a week, and it was fine then. Last night when I started it, the "check engine" light went on.
Not again. Please not again! Not after thousands of dollars, rental cars, and the forced purchase of the Aerio last year.
I opened and tightened the gas cap, and we'll see if that fixes it.
.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
1394 Wednesday's Play
I found some production photos from the performance of As You Like It at Boscobel. Go to http://www.hvshakespeare.org/pg2007/hv-ayli07.asp. You can see what I mean about using the lawn outside the tent. Note the river view beyond.
The center photo shows the "sheep".
The last photo shows the arch of the tent through which you can see the outside.
.
The center photo shows the "sheep".
The last photo shows the arch of the tent through which you can see the outside.
.
1393 Harry
Saturday, July 21, 2007
I saw something rather interesting on the news last night. A reporter was in the storage room of a bookstore. He pointed at sealed boxes containing the new Harry Potter book, with date warnings all over them. The sellers are not allowed to open the boxes until midnight.
Then the reporter reached to a shelf, and picked up an un-boxed copy of the audio version. No fancy protection there. Then he picked up (horrors!) a BOOK! A regular copy of the book. He flipped the pages and everything. Even peeked at the ending! How did this book escape the sealed box?
It was a library edition. They have stronger spines. No explanation as to why it wasn't protected like the others.
Don't those sealed cartons seem even sillier, now?
A friend asked why so many people are so anxious to get the first copies as soon as they're released. She wonders why it's so important to be first.
I can answer that. Anyone who has walked around at work the day after an important sporting event with their fingers in their ears, because they'd recorded it and hadn't watched it yet, will understand. Knowing the ending ahead of time will spoil the story. They want it fresh.
So, I understand the Potter campers, although it's not something I would do.
What I DON'T understand is the people who camped out for the iPhone. Now THAT's just plain stupid.
.
I saw something rather interesting on the news last night. A reporter was in the storage room of a bookstore. He pointed at sealed boxes containing the new Harry Potter book, with date warnings all over them. The sellers are not allowed to open the boxes until midnight.
Then the reporter reached to a shelf, and picked up an un-boxed copy of the audio version. No fancy protection there. Then he picked up (horrors!) a BOOK! A regular copy of the book. He flipped the pages and everything. Even peeked at the ending! How did this book escape the sealed box?
It was a library edition. They have stronger spines. No explanation as to why it wasn't protected like the others.
Don't those sealed cartons seem even sillier, now?
A friend asked why so many people are so anxious to get the first copies as soon as they're released. She wonders why it's so important to be first.
I can answer that. Anyone who has walked around at work the day after an important sporting event with their fingers in their ears, because they'd recorded it and hadn't watched it yet, will understand. Knowing the ending ahead of time will spoil the story. They want it fresh.
So, I understand the Potter campers, although it's not something I would do.
What I DON'T understand is the people who camped out for the iPhone. Now THAT's just plain stupid.
.
1392 Dear Diary - Friday
Saturday, July 21, 2007
For more, go to YouTube, and search on "Dahlia Wasfi". I hear, understand, and agree with much of what she says - but - how do we fix it? Having created this mess, can we just drop it and walk away?
Want protection from terrorists? I like Scott Adams's solution, http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/2007/06/my_newest_impra.html. It makes perfect sense, the RIGHT thing to do, the way I want us to be. If you believe in God, as our administration claims to, doesn't this sound it what He would want?
Pass it on.
.
Of course I had plans for Friday. I needed to see Piper, and to go to the bank, then to Phonecia (quite a long drive) because a store there was going to try to find or special-order a certain gift for me, and they were to call me last week about it. They didn't, and of course I don't know the name of the store to call them. So I have to go. And I had a slip from the post office that I had to come in a pick up a package. Then I wanted to put together the stuff to go to the recycle center this morning, and water houseplants before they all die.
I didn't get any of it done. Instead, I got six phone calls, a few of them very long (including one very satisfying hour+ late afternoon call from Daughter in which we really talked about relationships and stuff without any rancor at all). The first call was from Piper, about our getting together, and the third was from Piper saying that there was a family crisis and he was leaving his office for the day, so it was easy to write off going to the bank, too. And I can always go to Phonecia today or tomorrow. Sigh. After the phone calls, I had some online research to do and some emails to write, and then I fell into the internet trap and forgot all about the recycle stuff and the plants.
So I was left with great and ambitious plans for today.
I wanted to get up early and get the recycle together (lots of cardboard to be cut up, stacked, and tied), because the center is open only until 1 pm. At 11 am, the phone rang and woke me. So much for getting up early. I guess it helps if one remembers to set the alarm. It was Piper, saying he was in the office today. I was there within 20 minutes, dressed and toothbrushed, but sans shower or makeup. By the time we finished business, it was a few minutes to noon, so there was no point in trying for the bank. We had a small lunch, then I did make it to the post office, where I picked up an eBay win (an estate sale, mine was the only bid - 100 inches of individually knotted 8mm naturally pink cultured pearls, for less than $22 including shipping. Heavy! I may have to have it broken up into three necklaces.)
By the time I would get home and properly cleaned up and presentable, it would be too late to go to Phoenicia - the store closes at 5, but the person I need to speak to leaves earlier. And I wonder why I never get anything done. I remember when I was a single mother with a more-than-full-time job. Or when Jay was sick, and I accomplished so much in so little free time (except, of course, all the plants died) . I don't understand. I guess it's kinda like programming - "code expands to fill all available storage". Don't ask me to explain how that applies. Somehow, in my mind, it does.
--------------------------------------
Daughter and Hercules have captured another kitten, a sister of kitten Titus. Titus was difficult and time-consuming to tame, but Daughter says this one, a female, and of course older now, was purring and stretching her neck out for tentative petting right away. I wondered if the presence of her brother may have reassured her, but Daughter says he spits and growls at her, so she doesn't think so.
---------------------------------------
Have you ever wondered what it looks like inside the Large Hadron Collider at CERN? Go to http://petermccready.com/portfolio/05091901.html. Don't forget to look left and right, up and down. There are eight photos, click on the right arrow. I knew someone who had worked there, and he said that the workers get around on bicycles, so I was amused to see some bikes.
----------------------------------------
If you've considered costuming your dog for Halloween, or just to get attention on the street, here's an idea: http://www.scaryideas.com/print/2889/. With some adaptation, it could work for a person, too, but where do you get a rubber crocodile?
----------------------------------------
I went to Amazon.com last night and tried to buy Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy" CD. The average price, new or used, was $54.77. Ack! It's a simple single CD. Why the high price? Gee, at that price there must be enormous demand, so you'd think they'd reissue it. I ended up getting "St Elsewhere" instead.
-----------------------------------------
I read somewhere that left-handed people on average are faster touch-typists than right-handed people. In my experience they're generally better lovers ... oops, off topic. Um, oh yeah. At first I could see some sense there, because the spatial centers are on the right side of the brain, and the right hand is controlled by the left side, so a right-hander has a delay coordinating the hand and spatial sense that the left-hander doesn't.
But! On second thought, that doesn't hold up as an advantage in typing because BOTH hands are employed. Unless the left hand does more work?
------------------------------------------
Everyone needs to hear this. Its the other side of the story.
For more, go to YouTube, and search on "Dahlia Wasfi". I hear, understand, and agree with much of what she says - but - how do we fix it? Having created this mess, can we just drop it and walk away?
Want protection from terrorists? I like Scott Adams's solution, http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/2007/06/my_newest_impra.html. It makes perfect sense, the RIGHT thing to do, the way I want us to be. If you believe in God, as our administration claims to, doesn't this sound it what He would want?
Pass it on.
.
Friday, July 20, 2007
1391 Migraine
Friday, July 20, 2007
I won't be able to log Friday today. I just started a silent migraine, and in a few minutes, and for the next perhaps hour, I won't be able to see any detail - and I'm not a touch typist, so that's awkward.
No sympathy - there's no pain with an silent migraine, just a dull ache behind the right eye.
.
I won't be able to log Friday today. I just started a silent migraine, and in a few minutes, and for the next perhaps hour, I won't be able to see any detail - and I'm not a touch typist, so that's awkward.
No sympathy - there's no pain with an silent migraine, just a dull ache behind the right eye.
.
1390 Dear Diary - Thursday
Friday, July 20, 2007
Catching up on the diary entries. Thursday I attempted to visit Piper, to give him the stock sales check, but he wasn't in his office. I did some minor household shopping, and not much of anything else.
In the evening I went to the Third Thursday dinner. Last month it was just Roman and me. Last night we had a decent group - a new guy named John, The Ditz, Tom and his new wife, Roman and me. Not a crowd, but better than two.
We had warned FW that The Ditz would be there, in case she was planning to attend. The Ditz really surprised me last night. She was reasonable and rational, didn't say anything outrageous or stupid involving ethnic groups or bombs or horoscopes, and didn't mention Roman's girlfriend at all. She usually makes sure she mentions her at least once whenever she sees me and Roman in the same place. As far as I know, she doesn't yet know that they have broken up. Odd. Roman and I called it quits a over year ago, but she continued to take it upon herself to pick at the scab for the whole past year, so I have to wonder why not last night.
The horoscope thing was especially significant, because Tom was there. Tom reacts violently to any suggestion of belief in any superstition. This being a Chinese buffet, the placemats have the Chinese zodiac, and she ALWAYS asks everyone at the table what their symbol is, and Tom always gets mad - doubly so because she doesn't seem to recall having asked him a dozen times before, and doesn't remember his violent reaction every time. She didn't study the placemat last night. Didn't even look at it. Mostly she talked about her vacation on the Delta Queen, from New Orleans to St. Louis in 10 days, and about investments. She sounded sane.
Now I have to wonder how much of her ditziness is fake.
When I got home I watched a show I'd recorded while I was out (ok, Big Brother, if you must know, shut up - it was DVD-setting practice!), and went to bed at a decent hour.
.
Catching up on the diary entries. Thursday I attempted to visit Piper, to give him the stock sales check, but he wasn't in his office. I did some minor household shopping, and not much of anything else.
In the evening I went to the Third Thursday dinner. Last month it was just Roman and me. Last night we had a decent group - a new guy named John, The Ditz, Tom and his new wife, Roman and me. Not a crowd, but better than two.
We had warned FW that The Ditz would be there, in case she was planning to attend. The Ditz really surprised me last night. She was reasonable and rational, didn't say anything outrageous or stupid involving ethnic groups or bombs or horoscopes, and didn't mention Roman's girlfriend at all. She usually makes sure she mentions her at least once whenever she sees me and Roman in the same place. As far as I know, she doesn't yet know that they have broken up. Odd. Roman and I called it quits a over year ago, but she continued to take it upon herself to pick at the scab for the whole past year, so I have to wonder why not last night.
The horoscope thing was especially significant, because Tom was there. Tom reacts violently to any suggestion of belief in any superstition. This being a Chinese buffet, the placemats have the Chinese zodiac, and she ALWAYS asks everyone at the table what their symbol is, and Tom always gets mad - doubly so because she doesn't seem to recall having asked him a dozen times before, and doesn't remember his violent reaction every time. She didn't study the placemat last night. Didn't even look at it. Mostly she talked about her vacation on the Delta Queen, from New Orleans to St. Louis in 10 days, and about investments. She sounded sane.
Now I have to wonder how much of her ditziness is fake.
When I got home I watched a show I'd recorded while I was out (ok, Big Brother, if you must know, shut up - it was DVD-setting practice!), and went to bed at a decent hour.
.
1389 Dear Diary - Wednesday
Friday, July 20, 2007
I haven't been keeping up the diary function the past few days. I've been filling the ether with trivia, the "I'm alive and relatively rational" function. Usually when I do that it's because I am avoiding addressing some issue, but that isn't the case here. I just haven't taken the time.
I have to go all the way back to Wednesday, and I'm already forgetting what may have happened Wednesday morning and afternoon. Nothing noteworthy, apparently....
Wednesday evening was Shakespeare, "As You Like It", at Boscobel. Boscobel is a 200-year-old mansion on the Hudson River, across from West Point. Every summer the grounds host the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival. The performances are held in a huge turreted tent (here - scroll down a bit, photo on the left, also do click to see the video). The dirt-floored stage is in the center of the tent with tiered seating around three sides, and the cast also makes excellent use of the lawn outside the tent. The view of the lawns and the river is framed perfectly by the arch of the tent opening.
FW had set it all up as a Mensa outing back in May, but the only people to respond immediately (and separately) were Roman and me. I think because on the weekends the tickets are very expensive (Mensans are not generally noted for financial success, or if they do have it, they certainly don't like to spend it), and during the week everybody else works. Anyway, FW bought the tickets very early, which distressed me a bit because I had planned to invite a friend from NJ, it would be only an hour's drive for him and entirely possible (though not probable) and worth at least a try, but FW said that seats were assigned, and a later ticket purchase would probably not be near us.
Which would make things extremely awkward if I wanted to sit with my NJ friend.
FW doesn't especially like Roman, which complicates matters, I couldn't abandon them to each other (although on his side there is no animosity, and they are always civil to each other). So I didn't invite my friend. Then, a few days ago, there had been an FW-Roman explosion, soothed over but still remembered, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to sit between them for the entire evening, being unsure how things would go.
As it turned out, there were several seats open on either side of us, so I could have issued my invitation after all. Me Sad. And the two of them were quite pleasant to each other. Me Happy.
The original plan had been a picnic on the grounds 2 hours before "curtain" (there being no actual curtain), but it had rained earlier in the day and looked like it might rain more, so the picnic was cancelled. So Roman and I met for dinner in Poughkeepsie, and then headed to Cold Spring. We got there early, so we were able to visit the gardens and marvel at the river view before FW joined us and we went to the tent.
Roman had warned me that although the actors adhere strictly to the bard's words, stage directions, props, and costumes might be from an entirely different era.
Yup.
They did "As You Like It" as a western.
Imagine Shakespearean English in a Western drawl.
Archery and sword fights were accomplished using rifles, knives, and pistols. People thundered up riding Monty Python horses. The shepherdess's sheep were actors on hands and knees with mops on their heads.
It was fun. I enjoyed it.
It didn't rain, but it was so damp that when I took my jacket off the back of the seat, it felt like it needed wringing out. By the end of the play, fog had moved in, so that as the actors went out onto the lawn to exit, they disappeared. My hair, pulled into a pony tail, was a mass of fuzz, standing out three inches from my scalp even where it was pulled back.
As I drove home up the river, the fog got thicker, and just about when I was starting to worry, six miles from home, the fog suddenly stopped, like a line had been drawn across the road. At my driveway, it was perfectly clear.
Dark. The trees around the house were full of fireflies, more than I usually see. They looked like tiny Christmas lights. When I looked up higher, the sky was full of stars, the Milky Way was broad and dense. As I was looking up, a meteorite crossed the sky below the Milky Way. I waited, and there was another.
I have to say it was a good evening. I just wish there hadn't been those empty seats to remind me of what I missed.
.
I haven't been keeping up the diary function the past few days. I've been filling the ether with trivia, the "I'm alive and relatively rational" function. Usually when I do that it's because I am avoiding addressing some issue, but that isn't the case here. I just haven't taken the time.
I have to go all the way back to Wednesday, and I'm already forgetting what may have happened Wednesday morning and afternoon. Nothing noteworthy, apparently....
Wednesday evening was Shakespeare, "As You Like It", at Boscobel. Boscobel is a 200-year-old mansion on the Hudson River, across from West Point. Every summer the grounds host the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival. The performances are held in a huge turreted tent (here - scroll down a bit, photo on the left, also do click to see the video). The dirt-floored stage is in the center of the tent with tiered seating around three sides, and the cast also makes excellent use of the lawn outside the tent. The view of the lawns and the river is framed perfectly by the arch of the tent opening.
FW had set it all up as a Mensa outing back in May, but the only people to respond immediately (and separately) were Roman and me. I think because on the weekends the tickets are very expensive (Mensans are not generally noted for financial success, or if they do have it, they certainly don't like to spend it), and during the week everybody else works. Anyway, FW bought the tickets very early, which distressed me a bit because I had planned to invite a friend from NJ, it would be only an hour's drive for him and entirely possible (though not probable) and worth at least a try, but FW said that seats were assigned, and a later ticket purchase would probably not be near us.
Which would make things extremely awkward if I wanted to sit with my NJ friend.
FW doesn't especially like Roman, which complicates matters, I couldn't abandon them to each other (although on his side there is no animosity, and they are always civil to each other). So I didn't invite my friend. Then, a few days ago, there had been an FW-Roman explosion, soothed over but still remembered, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to sit between them for the entire evening, being unsure how things would go.
As it turned out, there were several seats open on either side of us, so I could have issued my invitation after all. Me Sad. And the two of them were quite pleasant to each other. Me Happy.
The original plan had been a picnic on the grounds 2 hours before "curtain" (there being no actual curtain), but it had rained earlier in the day and looked like it might rain more, so the picnic was cancelled. So Roman and I met for dinner in Poughkeepsie, and then headed to Cold Spring. We got there early, so we were able to visit the gardens and marvel at the river view before FW joined us and we went to the tent.
Roman had warned me that although the actors adhere strictly to the bard's words, stage directions, props, and costumes might be from an entirely different era.
Yup.
They did "As You Like It" as a western.
Imagine Shakespearean English in a Western drawl.
Archery and sword fights were accomplished using rifles, knives, and pistols. People thundered up riding Monty Python horses. The shepherdess's sheep were actors on hands and knees with mops on their heads.
It was fun. I enjoyed it.
It didn't rain, but it was so damp that when I took my jacket off the back of the seat, it felt like it needed wringing out. By the end of the play, fog had moved in, so that as the actors went out onto the lawn to exit, they disappeared. My hair, pulled into a pony tail, was a mass of fuzz, standing out three inches from my scalp even where it was pulled back.
As I drove home up the river, the fog got thicker, and just about when I was starting to worry, six miles from home, the fog suddenly stopped, like a line had been drawn across the road. At my driveway, it was perfectly clear.
Dark. The trees around the house were full of fireflies, more than I usually see. They looked like tiny Christmas lights. When I looked up higher, the sky was full of stars, the Milky Way was broad and dense. As I was looking up, a meteorite crossed the sky below the Milky Way. I waited, and there was another.
I have to say it was a good evening. I just wish there hadn't been those empty seats to remind me of what I missed.
.
1388 Blogline Burp
Friday, July 20, 2007
Yesterday I noticed many of the blogs I follow through Bloglines.com had 20-30 "updates" rather than the usual 0-4. That happens every once in a while. Don't know why. Today, this diary was showing 20 "new posts" in Bloglines.
Not me. I didn't do that. Bloglines has a tummy ache.
I notice that Blogger is adding blank lines between paragraphs, even in OLD posts in other blogs.
Not me. I didn't do that, either.
.
Yesterday I noticed many of the blogs I follow through Bloglines.com had 20-30 "updates" rather than the usual 0-4. That happens every once in a while. Don't know why. Today, this diary was showing 20 "new posts" in Bloglines.
Not me. I didn't do that. Bloglines has a tummy ache.
I notice that Blogger is adding blank lines between paragraphs, even in OLD posts in other blogs.
Not me. I didn't do that, either.
.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
1387 Toilet Cleaning
With a nod to The Dark Prince, whence this cometh.
TOILET CLEANING INSTRUCTIONS:
Sincerely,
The Dog
TOILET CLEANING INSTRUCTIONS:
- Put both lids of the toilet up and add 1/8 cup of pet shampoo to the water in the bowl.
- Pick up the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.
- In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. You may need to stand on the lid.
- The cat will self agitate and make ample suds. Never mind the noises that come from the toilet, the cat is actually enjoying this.
- Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power-wash and rinse."
- Have someone open the front door of your home. Be sure that there are no people between the bathroom and the front door.
- Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids.
- The cat will rocket out of the toilet, streak through the bathroom, and run outside where he will dry himself off.
- Both the commode and the cat will be sparkling clean.
Sincerely,
The Dog
1386 Being
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Repeating here a comment I made on an acquaintance's journal, just because sometimes I have to remind myself:
First you have to figure out who you are.
Then you have to like who you are.
Then you have to be who you are.
That's where strength comes from, and all else follows.
Took me a long time to learn that.
.
Repeating here a comment I made on an acquaintance's journal, just because sometimes I have to remind myself:
First you have to figure out who you are.
Then you have to like who you are.
Then you have to be who you are.
That's where strength comes from, and all else follows.
Took me a long time to learn that.
.
1385 Musical Taste
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Looking at my CD collection, it appears that my tastes run to folk, bluegrass, classical, and gentle oldies. I have very little true rock (beyond the Stones and Jimi), especially nothing from the past two decades. That's partly because if what I hear from the "musical guests" on late night TV talk shows is at all representative, there's no MUSIC there. It's all noise and no talent.
On the other hand, Daughter accuses me of being a nascent Deadhead, because every time I've heard anything from the Grateful Dead, I've said "Oooo, I like that." I'm definitely a fan of Mickey Hart.
I've avoided Black Sabbath just because of their name I suppose, even though several people have told me I'd like them. Then I found this: [Video. If you're coming in on a feed and don't see it, click on the post title.]
Ok, yeah, there's talent there. They're not for sitting listening, though. I have to be up and moving for them.
I guess the old dog can still learn new tricks.
[Oops - just noticed the DATE! Still nothing from the past few decades....]
.
Looking at my CD collection, it appears that my tastes run to folk, bluegrass, classical, and gentle oldies. I have very little true rock (beyond the Stones and Jimi), especially nothing from the past two decades. That's partly because if what I hear from the "musical guests" on late night TV talk shows is at all representative, there's no MUSIC there. It's all noise and no talent.
On the other hand, Daughter accuses me of being a nascent Deadhead, because every time I've heard anything from the Grateful Dead, I've said "Oooo, I like that." I'm definitely a fan of Mickey Hart.
I've avoided Black Sabbath just because of their name I suppose, even though several people have told me I'd like them. Then I found this: [Video. If you're coming in on a feed and don't see it, click on the post title.]
Ok, yeah, there's talent there. They're not for sitting listening, though. I have to be up and moving for them.
I guess the old dog can still learn new tricks.
[Oops - just noticed the DATE! Still nothing from the past few decades....]
.
1384 How to Pronounce "Ashokan"
Don't know why, but I get a lot of search hits from people trying to find the pronunciation of "Ashokan" (as in "Ashokan Reservoir", "Ashokan Field Campus", "Ashokan Farewell", etc.)
I guess some people might think it's ASH-o-can or ash-o-CAN.
It's actually pronounced ah-SHOW-kn. To rhyme with "I've spoken."
It may help you to know that there's a hamlet called "Shokan" (SHO-kan).
Happy search hits.
You're welcome.
(In case you're wondering about why I'm sure of the pronunciation, my country house is about 15 miles from the Ashokan Reservoir, I have been to many events at the Ashokan Field Campus - the local Mensa group used to have their annual fall gathering there - and I am slightly acquainted with Jay and Molly, who wrote "Ashokan Farewell" back when Jay thought that the Field Campus was going to be sold.)
.
I guess some people might think it's ASH-o-can or ash-o-CAN.
It's actually pronounced ah-SHOW-kn. To rhyme with "I've spoken."
It may help you to know that there's a hamlet called "Shokan" (SHO-kan).
Happy search hits.
You're welcome.
(In case you're wondering about why I'm sure of the pronunciation, my country house is about 15 miles from the Ashokan Reservoir, I have been to many events at the Ashokan Field Campus - the local Mensa group used to have their annual fall gathering there - and I am slightly acquainted with Jay and Molly, who wrote "Ashokan Farewell" back when Jay thought that the Field Campus was going to be sold.)
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Tuesday, July 17, 2007
1383 T-Shirt
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Seen on a T-shirt this evening:
Seen on a T-shirt this evening:
I'M MEAN
BECAUSE
YOU'RE STUPID
If you saw it too, confess.
1382 Poison
This version comes from Stories as told by a Cherokee.
The little boy was walking down a path and he came across a rattlesnake. The rattlesnake was getting old.
He asked, "Please little boy, can you take me to the top of the mountain? I hope to see the sunset one last time before I die."
The little boy answered "No Mr. Rattlesnake. If I pick you up, you'll bite me and I'll die."
The rattlesnake said, "No, I promise. I won't bite you. Just please take me up to the mountain."
The little boy thought about it and finally picked up that rattlesnake and took it close to his chest and carried it up to the top of the mountain. They sat there and watched the sunset together. It was so beautiful.
Then after sunset the rattlesnake turned to the little boy and asked, "Can I go home now? I am tired, and I am old."
The little boy picked up the rattlesnake and again took it to his chest and held it tightly and safely. He came all the way down the mountain holding the snake carefully and took it to his home to give him some food and a place to sleep.
The next day the rattlesnake turned to the boy and asked, "Please little boy, will you take me back to my home now? It is time for me to leave this world, and I would like to be at my home now."
The little boy felt he had been safe all this time and the snake had kept his word, so he would take it home as asked. He carefully picked up the snake, took it close to his chest, and carried him back to the woods, to his home to die.
Just before he laid the rattlesnake down, the rattlesnake turned and bit him in the chest. The little boy cried out and threw the snake upon the ground. "Mr. Snake, why did you do that? Now I will surely die!"
The rattlesnake looked up at him and grinned, "You knew what I was when you picked me up."
----------------------------------
My mother had a saying. "You can adopt a dog, and take it into your life, and feed it, and care for it, and love it, but then if it bites you, how many times will you allow it to bite you before you get rid of it?"
.
The little boy was walking down a path and he came across a rattlesnake. The rattlesnake was getting old.
He asked, "Please little boy, can you take me to the top of the mountain? I hope to see the sunset one last time before I die."
The little boy answered "No Mr. Rattlesnake. If I pick you up, you'll bite me and I'll die."
The rattlesnake said, "No, I promise. I won't bite you. Just please take me up to the mountain."
The little boy thought about it and finally picked up that rattlesnake and took it close to his chest and carried it up to the top of the mountain. They sat there and watched the sunset together. It was so beautiful.
Then after sunset the rattlesnake turned to the little boy and asked, "Can I go home now? I am tired, and I am old."
The little boy picked up the rattlesnake and again took it to his chest and held it tightly and safely. He came all the way down the mountain holding the snake carefully and took it to his home to give him some food and a place to sleep.
The next day the rattlesnake turned to the boy and asked, "Please little boy, will you take me back to my home now? It is time for me to leave this world, and I would like to be at my home now."
The little boy felt he had been safe all this time and the snake had kept his word, so he would take it home as asked. He carefully picked up the snake, took it close to his chest, and carried him back to the woods, to his home to die.
Just before he laid the rattlesnake down, the rattlesnake turned and bit him in the chest. The little boy cried out and threw the snake upon the ground. "Mr. Snake, why did you do that? Now I will surely die!"
The rattlesnake looked up at him and grinned, "You knew what I was when you picked me up."
----------------------------------
My mother had a saying. "You can adopt a dog, and take it into your life, and feed it, and care for it, and love it, but then if it bites you, how many times will you allow it to bite you before you get rid of it?"
.
1381 What Makes a Man, Anyway?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
I am so overwhelmed by what it would take to get this house company-ready. Seriously. A few months ago I came in second in an international messy computer room contest. And that was only because I didn't have a very good photo. (Mine is the fourth photo down, here.) It's worse now.
The only way to get past overwhelmed is to DO something, anything. Even the tiniest bit of progress is something done, a step forward.
Today I sorted paper in the kitchen. I promised myself three months ago, last time I sorted paper, that when a newspaper or magazine arrived, I would throw out the previous issue, whether I'd read it or not.
I didn't. From the mess of paper, I now have a neat 2-foot stack of unread magazines I'm reluctant to throw out, and six weeks of unread daily newspapers.
I did throw out all the catalogs.
Well, a step forward. Let's see if I can prevent a backslide before I get the next bit done.
------------------------------------
Jack's Shack (Hmmm - wonder if he's aware that term has a meaning on "Big Brother"?) over at "Random thoughts- Do they have meaning?" has a recent post on teaching his son to piddle standing up. The post kicked off comments on whether men always have to stand to urinate. Some people think sitting is ok. Others think that a man who sits, ever, isn't a man at all. There seems to be a lot of emotion on the subject.
Jay was all man. He was 6'3" tall, and 240 lbs, mostly bone and muscle. His habits and mode of thought were so male I used to tease him about it. He reeked of testosterone. I was surprised to find that at home, he sat.
I asked why, and he said that "a toilet is not a urinal. It's too low. It would make more sense to use the sink." If a real urinal, or tree, or anything else was available, he'd happily use that, of course, but he saw standing in front of a toilet as asking for trouble. Having had a few husbands and visiting males over the past 40 years, I saw his point, and was grateful.
It isn't whether you stand or sit that makes you a man. It's completely irrelevant. Sitting when there's only a toilet doesn't unman you. It makes you a considerate man. In my opinion, consideration makes a man much more desirable than any macho posturing. If standing is required to make you feel manly, you aren't very confident in your masculinity.
Why aren't home urinals common? They'd make a lot of sense. Is it because most plumbers are male, and they don't have to clean up after themselves?
[Note - if there are any males reading this who are candidates for using a toilet I am expected to clean, who do not intend to sit, well, that's ok. I accept that choice. There are other ways to be considerate. It evens out...]
-----------------------------------
This reminds me of a story.
A new building was built, and our product area moved into it. All the guys were annoyed about the urinals in the men's rooms - they were apparently set very low. "I feel like I'm back in grade school!" It so happened that the product manager was a very short man.
A few months after the move into the building, we got a new product manager. He was exceptionally tall, and a few days after he arrived, all the urinals were replaced with higher ones. There may or may not have been a connection.
He lasted a short time, and then was replaced by May, whom I have mentioned a few times in this journal. She was introduced in an all-hands meeting, and when she took the podium, she floored the whole group with, "Don't worry, guys. The urinals are staying."
.
I am so overwhelmed by what it would take to get this house company-ready. Seriously. A few months ago I came in second in an international messy computer room contest. And that was only because I didn't have a very good photo. (Mine is the fourth photo down, here.) It's worse now.
The only way to get past overwhelmed is to DO something, anything. Even the tiniest bit of progress is something done, a step forward.
Today I sorted paper in the kitchen. I promised myself three months ago, last time I sorted paper, that when a newspaper or magazine arrived, I would throw out the previous issue, whether I'd read it or not.
I didn't. From the mess of paper, I now have a neat 2-foot stack of unread magazines I'm reluctant to throw out, and six weeks of unread daily newspapers.
I did throw out all the catalogs.
Well, a step forward. Let's see if I can prevent a backslide before I get the next bit done.
------------------------------------
Jack's Shack (Hmmm - wonder if he's aware that term has a meaning on "Big Brother"?) over at "Random thoughts- Do they have meaning?" has a recent post on teaching his son to piddle standing up. The post kicked off comments on whether men always have to stand to urinate. Some people think sitting is ok. Others think that a man who sits, ever, isn't a man at all. There seems to be a lot of emotion on the subject.
Jay was all man. He was 6'3" tall, and 240 lbs, mostly bone and muscle. His habits and mode of thought were so male I used to tease him about it. He reeked of testosterone. I was surprised to find that at home, he sat.
I asked why, and he said that "a toilet is not a urinal. It's too low. It would make more sense to use the sink." If a real urinal, or tree, or anything else was available, he'd happily use that, of course, but he saw standing in front of a toilet as asking for trouble. Having had a few husbands and visiting males over the past 40 years, I saw his point, and was grateful.
It isn't whether you stand or sit that makes you a man. It's completely irrelevant. Sitting when there's only a toilet doesn't unman you. It makes you a considerate man. In my opinion, consideration makes a man much more desirable than any macho posturing. If standing is required to make you feel manly, you aren't very confident in your masculinity.
Why aren't home urinals common? They'd make a lot of sense. Is it because most plumbers are male, and they don't have to clean up after themselves?
[Note - if there are any males reading this who are candidates for using a toilet I am expected to clean, who do not intend to sit, well, that's ok. I accept that choice. There are other ways to be considerate. It evens out...]
-----------------------------------
This reminds me of a story.
A new building was built, and our product area moved into it. All the guys were annoyed about the urinals in the men's rooms - they were apparently set very low. "I feel like I'm back in grade school!" It so happened that the product manager was a very short man.
A few months after the move into the building, we got a new product manager. He was exceptionally tall, and a few days after he arrived, all the urinals were replaced with higher ones. There may or may not have been a connection.
He lasted a short time, and then was replaced by May, whom I have mentioned a few times in this journal. She was introduced in an all-hands meeting, and when she took the podium, she floored the whole group with, "Don't worry, guys. The urinals are staying."
.
Monday, July 16, 2007
1380 Mayoral Scuffle
Monday, July 16, 2007
When I get annoyed or upset, I get in the car and drive. Anywhere. Back roads through farmland and woods. I try to get lost and then find my way back. I listen to NPR if it's interesting, look at the scenery, and lose myself for a while. Driving is relaxing, and I find that it helps to clear my thinking.
This evening I went to the deli and picked up a bottle of iced tea, and then went for an impromptu ride, no purse, no money, no id, no phone, no nothin', and I quickly felt a little better.
The news was on the radio, and there was a conversation about how the internet can affect elections, how you never know who might have a camera when you do something stupid. Like, Mayor Sottile of Kingston. The newspaper has the whole story, and I suppose I'll have to find it and read it, but what they said was that the mayor and the wife of an opposition candidate for DA got into a scuffle in a bar. She threw her drink at him, he threw his drink at her, she hauled off at him with her purse, and so on.
The whole thing was captured on the bar's security camera, and was immediately uploaded to YouTube. You can see it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvNuOLDLddA. I had to watch it twice to locate the protagonists (it's short). They're in the back.
I was amused when the NPR commentator said that although the tape is impartial, it's interesting that every person who sees it has a different opinion of who did what, who started it. Which, she said, illustrates why, when you see something like that, you need an impartial reporter to explain it.
Yeah, sure, ok. Just so we all think the same thing, right? Giggle snort.
Mayor Sottile opened the festivities the day I volunteered at the children's reading program at the library. My thoughts were that he's a big man, with a lot of physical presence. I'd think twice about throwing a drink in his face, even if he did give me an unwelcome pat on the cheek.
When I got home, I was a lot more cheerful than when I left the house.
.
When I get annoyed or upset, I get in the car and drive. Anywhere. Back roads through farmland and woods. I try to get lost and then find my way back. I listen to NPR if it's interesting, look at the scenery, and lose myself for a while. Driving is relaxing, and I find that it helps to clear my thinking.
This evening I went to the deli and picked up a bottle of iced tea, and then went for an impromptu ride, no purse, no money, no id, no phone, no nothin', and I quickly felt a little better.
The news was on the radio, and there was a conversation about how the internet can affect elections, how you never know who might have a camera when you do something stupid. Like, Mayor Sottile of Kingston. The newspaper has the whole story, and I suppose I'll have to find it and read it, but what they said was that the mayor and the wife of an opposition candidate for DA got into a scuffle in a bar. She threw her drink at him, he threw his drink at her, she hauled off at him with her purse, and so on.
The whole thing was captured on the bar's security camera, and was immediately uploaded to YouTube. You can see it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PvNuOLDLddA. I had to watch it twice to locate the protagonists (it's short). They're in the back.
I was amused when the NPR commentator said that although the tape is impartial, it's interesting that every person who sees it has a different opinion of who did what, who started it. Which, she said, illustrates why, when you see something like that, you need an impartial reporter to explain it.
Yeah, sure, ok. Just so we all think the same thing, right? Giggle snort.
Mayor Sottile opened the festivities the day I volunteered at the children's reading program at the library. My thoughts were that he's a big man, with a lot of physical presence. I'd think twice about throwing a drink in his face, even if he did give me an unwelcome pat on the cheek.
When I got home, I was a lot more cheerful than when I left the house.
.
1379 Frustration
Monday, July 16, 2007
I'm frustrated about several things right now, from about four different directions. I want to just throw everything up in the air and let it fall where it may. Sometimes things are just too much trouble. Sometimes people are just too much trouble. I'm really tired of people telling me one thing and doing another. Making plans and committing me way earlier than necessary, without telling me before doing it. NOT being willing to make plans and "save the date", and then complaining that the calendar is full. Promising calls or emails and then never delivering. Feeling that I have to be available to family, but NOT share that time with friends. Aaaaagh!
.
The blank space above represents a paragraph I wrote, deleted, and rewrote four times. I'm just too frustrated to be reasonable.
The moral of this post - never ever tell anyone who knows you about your blog. You can't vent anymore.
I'm not looking forward to Wednesday evening. I'm not looking forward to next weekend. I am not happy.
[Later - rereading the first paragraph, it occurred to me that there are four people who might read it and jump to the conclusion that it's all about them. Remember Carly Simon's "...you probably think this song is about you..."? Well, pieces of it ARE ABOUT ALL OF YOU! SO THERE! Snarl....]
.
I'm frustrated about several things right now, from about four different directions. I want to just throw everything up in the air and let it fall where it may. Sometimes things are just too much trouble. Sometimes people are just too much trouble. I'm really tired of people telling me one thing and doing another. Making plans and committing me way earlier than necessary, without telling me before doing it. NOT being willing to make plans and "save the date", and then complaining that the calendar is full. Promising calls or emails and then never delivering. Feeling that I have to be available to family, but NOT share that time with friends. Aaaaagh!
.
The blank space above represents a paragraph I wrote, deleted, and rewrote four times. I'm just too frustrated to be reasonable.
The moral of this post - never ever tell anyone who knows you about your blog. You can't vent anymore.
I'm not looking forward to Wednesday evening. I'm not looking forward to next weekend. I am not happy.
[Later - rereading the first paragraph, it occurred to me that there are four people who might read it and jump to the conclusion that it's all about them. Remember Carly Simon's "...you probably think this song is about you..."? Well, pieces of it ARE ABOUT ALL OF YOU! SO THERE! Snarl....]
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Sunday, July 15, 2007
1378 Moved TVs
Sunday, July 15, 2007
I watch television more in the den than in the bedroom, so the den's getting the new TV. I removed the dying TV from the bedroom and put it in a corner in the kitchen, beside two other dead TVs. Gotta figure out how to get rid of them.
Then I moved the TV from the den into the bedroom. Not very easy. The den TV is far back on a board that extends from the side of the desk into the corner, with a bookcase to the side, and scanners, printers, telephones, and other stuff piled in front. I had to move a bunch of stuff and climb up on the desk to be able to reach it.
There's about 47 thousand cords under the desk, plugged into several "bars", and working alone, I couldn't figure out which one was the TV power cord. Can't do the "wiggle and watch" bit alone. I finally just unplugged stuff until the TV went off. Six plugs later, I discovered the TV wasn't plugged into a bar - it was plugged directly into the wall BEHIND the desk. I can't easily reach that far.
I managed to get it unplugged with the tips of my fingers, but there's no way I could get enough of a grip to plug the new TV in there. Don't know how I managed it in the first place.
Carried the den TV into the bedroom, got it all hooked up. Easy, except for the weight. It's not big, but it was heavy.
Got the new one out of the box, and installed it in the den. I was surprised at how light it was. It has a larger screen than the old ones, but I could easily lift it with one hand.
Done.
Now I have two large boxes and three (one from last fall) dead TVs to dispose of. I understand they make great aquariums, hint hint....
.
I watch television more in the den than in the bedroom, so the den's getting the new TV. I removed the dying TV from the bedroom and put it in a corner in the kitchen, beside two other dead TVs. Gotta figure out how to get rid of them.
Then I moved the TV from the den into the bedroom. Not very easy. The den TV is far back on a board that extends from the side of the desk into the corner, with a bookcase to the side, and scanners, printers, telephones, and other stuff piled in front. I had to move a bunch of stuff and climb up on the desk to be able to reach it.
There's about 47 thousand cords under the desk, plugged into several "bars", and working alone, I couldn't figure out which one was the TV power cord. Can't do the "wiggle and watch" bit alone. I finally just unplugged stuff until the TV went off. Six plugs later, I discovered the TV wasn't plugged into a bar - it was plugged directly into the wall BEHIND the desk. I can't easily reach that far.
I managed to get it unplugged with the tips of my fingers, but there's no way I could get enough of a grip to plug the new TV in there. Don't know how I managed it in the first place.
Carried the den TV into the bedroom, got it all hooked up. Easy, except for the weight. It's not big, but it was heavy.
Got the new one out of the box, and installed it in the den. I was surprised at how light it was. It has a larger screen than the old ones, but I could easily lift it with one hand.
Done.
Now I have two large boxes and three (one from last fall) dead TVs to dispose of. I understand they make great aquariums, hint hint....
.
1377 Relationship Signs
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Chris, in his latest post over there at Inane Thoughts & Insane Ramblings, talks about how and whether you can judge the health of a relationship by witnessing the interactions of the couple. (Go to his blog for the discussion, book reference, and quotes.) The following is Chris's words, and he says:
"So when I evaluate a relationship, I look for signs of cherishing and respect. If it is not there, I don't see that relationship lasting. Cherish is the opposite of contempt, one of Gottman's Four Horseman [Gottman is a researcher w/ a 95% success rate in predicting relationship long term success. The 4 dooming signs include contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling.].
I guess that makes sense. Cherishing is a positive indicator that is the flip side of Gottman's negative predictor (contempt). After all, you can't cherish someone and hold them in contempt at the same time.... "
This is another one of those things that when you hear it, you say, "Well, yeah. Duh." You feel like you've known it always, and yet, you'd never thought about it before, never put it together so neatly. People never get the credit they should when they speak universal truths. The next day, everyone acts like they've known it forever, not noticing that their way of thinking and acting has changed since the day before.
Chris's post kicked off a new train of thought in me.
Back to Gottman's four dooming signs: contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling. I fully agree with that. Absolutely. Every failed relationship I've ever seen, or have been in, has had one or more of those four. By the end, my second marriage had all four on both sides. (We dragged that train wreck out way too long.)
Every successful relationship I've known has had all four of the opposites, which I see as respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I had all of those with Jay. Just as you can see dooming signs almost instantly, everyone instantly saw the good signs in us.
The 30s-ish daughter of a friend recently asked her father, essentially, how you can tell when someone is or is not "the right person". He's been divorced three times, and recently ended a 4-5 year relationship. His divorce from the daughter's mother, after 35 years of marriage, was rather nasty, and I think perhaps the daughter is afraid to attempt a relationship, afraid that they all end badly, so why try.
There's a lot of advice out there, much of it of the "similar values, beliefs, background" variety as predictors of a good match. And, yes, that's what was wrong with my first marriage - we were poles apart in the values, beliefs, background areas, BUT! That wasn't the basic problem! The problem was that we didn't have respect or tolerance for each other's values, etc. With respect and acceptance, any difference can actually be a positive factor.
Unfortunately, none of the advice is any good at the beginning of a relationship. When the pheromones and hormones are flying, you don't see the warning signs. You make excuses for the inexcusable. People around you might see it (those dooming signs) and even tell you, but you don't listen, because "they don't know him/her like I do, they don't understand". It's only after the bloody end that you can look back and realize they were right.
About the only advice I can give is to listen to your friends (not family - Daughter disliked Jay until she got to know him, then she disliked the way I treated him. She was too close and had other issues of her own.) Anyway, bring your new romantic interest around your friends. Listen to specific comments they may have, especially as pertain to your interactions with him or her. Even strangers may contribute astute perceptions.
They may not know about the "four dooming signs", but they'll see them anyway if they're there.
----------------------------
Me? I'm not going to settle. I shall insist on respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I can't say I'd rather be alone than accept less, but I WANT the whole package.
.
Chris, in his latest post over there at Inane Thoughts & Insane Ramblings, talks about how and whether you can judge the health of a relationship by witnessing the interactions of the couple. (Go to his blog for the discussion, book reference, and quotes.) The following is Chris's words, and he says:
"So when I evaluate a relationship, I look for signs of cherishing and respect. If it is not there, I don't see that relationship lasting. Cherish is the opposite of contempt, one of Gottman's Four Horseman [Gottman is a researcher w/ a 95% success rate in predicting relationship long term success. The 4 dooming signs include contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling.].
I guess that makes sense. Cherishing is a positive indicator that is the flip side of Gottman's negative predictor (contempt). After all, you can't cherish someone and hold them in contempt at the same time.... "
This is another one of those things that when you hear it, you say, "Well, yeah. Duh." You feel like you've known it always, and yet, you'd never thought about it before, never put it together so neatly. People never get the credit they should when they speak universal truths. The next day, everyone acts like they've known it forever, not noticing that their way of thinking and acting has changed since the day before.
Chris's post kicked off a new train of thought in me.
Back to Gottman's four dooming signs: contempt, defensiveness, criticism, and stonewalling. I fully agree with that. Absolutely. Every failed relationship I've ever seen, or have been in, has had one or more of those four. By the end, my second marriage had all four on both sides. (We dragged that train wreck out way too long.)
Every successful relationship I've known has had all four of the opposites, which I see as respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I had all of those with Jay. Just as you can see dooming signs almost instantly, everyone instantly saw the good signs in us.
The 30s-ish daughter of a friend recently asked her father, essentially, how you can tell when someone is or is not "the right person". He's been divorced three times, and recently ended a 4-5 year relationship. His divorce from the daughter's mother, after 35 years of marriage, was rather nasty, and I think perhaps the daughter is afraid to attempt a relationship, afraid that they all end badly, so why try.
There's a lot of advice out there, much of it of the "similar values, beliefs, background" variety as predictors of a good match. And, yes, that's what was wrong with my first marriage - we were poles apart in the values, beliefs, background areas, BUT! That wasn't the basic problem! The problem was that we didn't have respect or tolerance for each other's values, etc. With respect and acceptance, any difference can actually be a positive factor.
Unfortunately, none of the advice is any good at the beginning of a relationship. When the pheromones and hormones are flying, you don't see the warning signs. You make excuses for the inexcusable. People around you might see it (those dooming signs) and even tell you, but you don't listen, because "they don't know him/her like I do, they don't understand". It's only after the bloody end that you can look back and realize they were right.
About the only advice I can give is to listen to your friends (not family - Daughter disliked Jay until she got to know him, then she disliked the way I treated him. She was too close and had other issues of her own.) Anyway, bring your new romantic interest around your friends. Listen to specific comments they may have, especially as pertain to your interactions with him or her. Even strangers may contribute astute perceptions.
They may not know about the "four dooming signs", but they'll see them anyway if they're there.
----------------------------
Me? I'm not going to settle. I shall insist on respect, faith/comfort, acceptance, and openness. I can't say I'd rather be alone than accept less, but I WANT the whole package.
.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
1375 Saturday Sigh
Saturday, July 14, 2007
I went to a party/BBQ at The Gypsy's today. It was her son's 11th birthday, and a good excuse for a big-deal party. Gypsy's parties are always good. She goes all out on the food, and the conversations always make for interesting (although trivial) listening.
I never talk much at her gatherings, partly because I simply don't talk much anyway except in a small "around the table" group, and partly because if you have to raise your voice to get in, I'm out. I have a soft quiet voice, and am reluctant to raise it. (I also don't much care for loud women. Brassy women. I'll just let them have the floor. And the man, for that matter.)
Not that I can't speak up. I have some theater training, and I can make myself heard in the last rows without a microphone, without straining in the least. I know how to project. Perhaps I don't speak up and jump into conversations because I don't feel I have all that much to contribute. Not that what I might have to say would not be pertinent, but that most party conversations, although interesting to listen to, are of no real import. If you try to throw meat in, you get a blank stare.
I've never learned to chit-chat.
I was even more quiet today. I was there five hours or more, and may have spoken all of five words. I was a bit late in arriving, too. My brain felt scattered. I had a lot of inertia to overcome to get out the door. Maybe I'm still tired from Thursday? Doesn't sound likely. Anyway, mostly I sat, listened, and sipped root beer. I haven't had A&W in a long time. It was good.
.
I went to a party/BBQ at The Gypsy's today. It was her son's 11th birthday, and a good excuse for a big-deal party. Gypsy's parties are always good. She goes all out on the food, and the conversations always make for interesting (although trivial) listening.
I never talk much at her gatherings, partly because I simply don't talk much anyway except in a small "around the table" group, and partly because if you have to raise your voice to get in, I'm out. I have a soft quiet voice, and am reluctant to raise it. (I also don't much care for loud women. Brassy women. I'll just let them have the floor. And the man, for that matter.)
Not that I can't speak up. I have some theater training, and I can make myself heard in the last rows without a microphone, without straining in the least. I know how to project. Perhaps I don't speak up and jump into conversations because I don't feel I have all that much to contribute. Not that what I might have to say would not be pertinent, but that most party conversations, although interesting to listen to, are of no real import. If you try to throw meat in, you get a blank stare.
I've never learned to chit-chat.
I was even more quiet today. I was there five hours or more, and may have spoken all of five words. I was a bit late in arriving, too. My brain felt scattered. I had a lot of inertia to overcome to get out the door. Maybe I'm still tired from Thursday? Doesn't sound likely. Anyway, mostly I sat, listened, and sipped root beer. I haven't had A&W in a long time. It was good.
.
Friday, July 13, 2007
1374 No Explosions
Friday, July 13, 2007
It was almost exactly two years ago that I went to dinner and a movie with an old friend, thinking that it was platonic, and discovered during the evening that it was "a date", my first since Jay had died. That evening started an explosive chain reaction that almost destroyed my sanity.
Tonight I went out for dinner and a movie with an old friend, planning to have a nice platonic evening (ironically the same theater, by the way), and I discovered during the evening that he wanted to call it "a date".
I'd like to keep him close, an intimate friend, but I don't want any romance. That's a good way to lose a friend. I prefer not to lose him as a friend. I'm two years older now. We'll see if I've learned anything.
.
It was almost exactly two years ago that I went to dinner and a movie with an old friend, thinking that it was platonic, and discovered during the evening that it was "a date", my first since Jay had died. That evening started an explosive chain reaction that almost destroyed my sanity.
Tonight I went out for dinner and a movie with an old friend, planning to have a nice platonic evening (ironically the same theater, by the way), and I discovered during the evening that he wanted to call it "a date".
I'd like to keep him close, an intimate friend, but I don't want any romance. That's a good way to lose a friend. I prefer not to lose him as a friend. I'm two years older now. We'll see if I've learned anything.
.
1373 Quick Quick
Friday, July 13, 2007
This'll be a quick entry - going out for dinner and movie this evening, and I have to wash and dress yet.
My friend's surgery went well yesterday. Of course, it took all of 20 minutes, then another hour or two recovery, but the entire hospital time was 7 hours. We spent most of the time talking in the ambulatory surgery waiting room.
Some of our topics might have shocked the other people in the waiting room. "And then when she said she 'likes to thuck it' I thought she meant the stud, and she did mean the stud, but not the one I was thinking."
During the surgery, I was so tired I fell asleep in the waiting room.
I got home about 7:45 pm, and was falling asleep at the laptop, but then a friend called and we were on the phone for an hour and a half. That's remarkable for me. Got to bed about midnight.
This morning I remembered that the show on Hell is this evening, and the VCR in the kitchen had died, so I had to drag out the book on the DVD recorder in the living room, and figure out how to set the time and program it to record this evening. I'd never used it for anything beyond watching, so it was all new. The booklet is badly organized and uses words they don't bother to define, so it took me almost an hour to set it.
I was so unsure that I did it right, I also set the ancient VCR in the bedroom. It'll probably explode at 9:58 this evening, dust being explosive....
Whatever. If I don't capture the show, it'll be because I'm not supposed to.
I did some shopping this afternoon, for a friend's son's birthday party tomorrow. I wasn't sure what I was looking for (per her recommendation), but then I found it, and I'm pretty sure I got the right thing, I think. I had bought him a fancy trick kite last week, but then last Friday he fell off a slide and lacerated his spleen, so now he's on bed rest. A kite has become inappropriate. So I needed something for a kid who needs quiet occupying for the next month.
I hope he has a nice day - no rain.
This'll be a quick entry - going out for dinner and movie this evening, and I have to wash and dress yet.
My friend's surgery went well yesterday. Of course, it took all of 20 minutes, then another hour or two recovery, but the entire hospital time was 7 hours. We spent most of the time talking in the ambulatory surgery waiting room.
Some of our topics might have shocked the other people in the waiting room. "And then when she said she 'likes to thuck it' I thought she meant the stud, and she did mean the stud, but not the one I was thinking."
During the surgery, I was so tired I fell asleep in the waiting room.
I got home about 7:45 pm, and was falling asleep at the laptop, but then a friend called and we were on the phone for an hour and a half. That's remarkable for me. Got to bed about midnight.
This morning I remembered that the show on Hell is this evening, and the VCR in the kitchen had died, so I had to drag out the book on the DVD recorder in the living room, and figure out how to set the time and program it to record this evening. I'd never used it for anything beyond watching, so it was all new. The booklet is badly organized and uses words they don't bother to define, so it took me almost an hour to set it.
I was so unsure that I did it right, I also set the ancient VCR in the bedroom. It'll probably explode at 9:58 this evening, dust being explosive....
Whatever. If I don't capture the show, it'll be because I'm not supposed to.
I did some shopping this afternoon, for a friend's son's birthday party tomorrow. I wasn't sure what I was looking for (per her recommendation), but then I found it, and I'm pretty sure I got the right thing, I think. I had bought him a fancy trick kite last week, but then last Friday he fell off a slide and lacerated his spleen, so now he's on bed rest. A kite has become inappropriate. So I needed something for a kid who needs quiet occupying for the next month.
I hope he has a nice day - no rain.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
1372 No Sleep
Thursday, July 12, 2007
It's 5:45 am, and I've had no sleep. I'm taking a friend to the hospital for outpatient surgery today, and absolutely had to wake up by 7:30. That's early for me, since I have no regular wakeup time these days.
I suspected that I wouldn't sleep at all because I'd be afraid of sleeping through the alarm. I was right. I spent many hours with my eyes closed, but I don't think I had more than a few 15-minute episodes of drifting. When you lie there with closed eyes, the mind takes off on its own, and the things I was thinking about (actually, the Who, and the frustration and growing hurt and anger) made it even harder to sleep.
When it got to 5:30, I realized that if I did fall asleep at that point, I absolutely would sleep through the alarm.
So here I am.
.
It's 5:45 am, and I've had no sleep. I'm taking a friend to the hospital for outpatient surgery today, and absolutely had to wake up by 7:30. That's early for me, since I have no regular wakeup time these days.
I suspected that I wouldn't sleep at all because I'd be afraid of sleeping through the alarm. I was right. I spent many hours with my eyes closed, but I don't think I had more than a few 15-minute episodes of drifting. When you lie there with closed eyes, the mind takes off on its own, and the things I was thinking about (actually, the Who, and the frustration and growing hurt and anger) made it even harder to sleep.
When it got to 5:30, I realized that if I did fall asleep at that point, I absolutely would sleep through the alarm.
So here I am.
.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
1371 Food Fight?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Some guy in Kingston is turning 60, and has decided to celebrate by inviting the entire community to a food fight this Sunday, I assume in his yard. Right next to the Family Court building in uptown Kingston. "Bring water pistols, also anything soft that will do well in a food fight -- mashed potatoes, key lime pie, jello." FW wonders if I'd like to go.
Ack!
Food fights seem to be a staple of situation comedies, and every time I see one, my thoughts run like "Now who's gonna clean that up?", and "That will definitely stain that sofa!" Not to mention the waste of perfectly good food.
I simply cannot imagine me in a food fight.
I also can't imagine a food fight in uptown Kingston. The first time a load of mashed potatoes hits a neighbor's car or yard, the police will be called.
And who's gonna clean it up?
.
Some guy in Kingston is turning 60, and has decided to celebrate by inviting the entire community to a food fight this Sunday, I assume in his yard. Right next to the Family Court building in uptown Kingston. "Bring water pistols, also anything soft that will do well in a food fight -- mashed potatoes, key lime pie, jello." FW wonders if I'd like to go.
Ack!
Food fights seem to be a staple of situation comedies, and every time I see one, my thoughts run like "Now who's gonna clean that up?", and "That will definitely stain that sofa!" Not to mention the waste of perfectly good food.
I simply cannot imagine me in a food fight.
I also can't imagine a food fight in uptown Kingston. The first time a load of mashed potatoes hits a neighbor's car or yard, the police will be called.
And who's gonna clean it up?
.
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?
-------------------------
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):
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.
-----------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
.
[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?
-------------------------
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):
- 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?
- 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.
-----------------------------
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.
------------------------------
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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
See: http://dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/archive/dilbert-20070710.html
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
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.
.
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.
.
Monday, July 09, 2007
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.
.
[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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
-----------------------------------------
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.
-----------------------------------------
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.
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.
-----------------------------------------
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.
-----------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------
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.
.
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.
--------------------------------------
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.
.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
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.
.
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.
.
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.
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?
---------------------------------
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.
.
[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?
---------------------------------
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
1358 Observation
Great minds talk about ideas.
Average minds talk about events.
Small minds talk about people.
Average minds talk about events.
Small minds talk about people.
- Eleanor Roosevelt (?)
.
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".
.
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".
.
Friday, July 06, 2007
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.
.
[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.
.
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.]
------------------------------------
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....)
--------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------
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.
.
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.]
------------------------------------
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....)
--------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
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.
.
[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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