Sunday, August 26, 2007
FW's birthday party was yesterday. It went well, a lot tamer and quieter than I'd expected, especially after FW had spent the past several days putting together mix disks consisting mainly of Rolling Stones and Funk. She was planning on a lot of dancing, and I went geared up for dancing, but --- there wasn't any. They didn't look like a dancing crowd. It was all sitting and conversation. I may have been the only one who noticed and appreciated the music.
She made me the official photographer, so I had something to do (I'm very shy and quiet around strangers).
I got asked out by one of her male friends, a guy she'd met on an online dating site. Incidentally, another nudist. I didn't exactly say no, but I did tell him I'm involved and not available. (But it really is actually a "No".) He responded that FW has my number, so he'd check again sometime. But FW insulted him badly at the end of the evening, so I may be safe. I can't put FW on the spot by asking her not to give him my number, but now it's unlikely he'll be calling her anyway.
Another guy asked if I was a nudist, too. FW laughed and said no way! My eyebrows shot up, and I said that I don't even ever expose my legs. I wear yoga pants with my bathing suit. That surprised FW, but it's true.
I stayed late and helped clean up. Got home around 10 pm, found a phone message from Roman who wanted to know how it went. Called him. We talked about sites for photo storage -the conversation got rather frustrating. Not unusual with him.
Nothing much else. I'm just taking today to recover from the past four days of activity. "Down time."
Oh, and even though it LOOKS like I talked about people here, there's a lot of observations I didn't divulge! I'm being very good. Really.
.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
1450 Changing Direction
Friday, August 24, 2007
This journal is going to change direction, from personal to ... something else. Maybe philosophical. I don't know.
When I started blogging, back in June of 2004, I was just coming out of the isolation I had gone into when Jay died. I had so much I had to say, but no one I could say it to. After the three isolating years of our battle with his brain cancer, and three years of my grief, there was no one I was close to. No one whose life intersected mine. (There was Daughter, but I couldn't dump all this on her - she was TOO close.)
The journal (which started on AOL, at http://journals.aol.com/jaykolb/Moraine/) helped me to deal with feelings I needed to look at and purge. Because it was all about my thoughts and feelings, I was very open (I am normally anyway), and that openness has continued.
But now my life is different. There are other people involved now. My feelings are now bound up in the actions of and intersections with others, and maybe it's not fair to involve them so much in my journal.
I don't know how to avoid that yet, but I'll have to learn.
Now, the past three days, without mentioning anyone else (difficult!): Wednesday I went to NJ. I had a very good time Wednesday night. Thursday afternoon I visited with Daughter. Got home in the evening and found several calls on my home machine. Returned calls. Today, Friday, I went to the county fair. Met a friend at noon, and we spent the next ten hours visiting every animal barn, every display tent, every retail kiosk, and every food stand. Must have walked many miles! I was wearing walking shoes, and my feet feel like they are about to fall off.
In the antique farm machinery area they have, among other machines, a huge burping saw that makes cedar shingles. Watching it, I mentioned to the friend that I had always wanted to take some of the cedar shreds, "useless" byproduct of the shingle process, to put in net bags in my drawers and closet. Well, purely by chance, at the end of the building they had huge 40-gallon bags of cedar shavings - one fine and one coarse - for $2 a bag! I bought the bag of fine.
Next year I'll have to send out a mental request for smaller bags. 40 gallons of cedar shreds is still wood, and a LOT of wood. The bag was heavy. Maybe 40 pounds. I was lucky to have a friend along to get it to the car.
This is the first year since 1999 that I have had company at the fair. I had always gone alone.
.
This journal is going to change direction, from personal to ... something else. Maybe philosophical. I don't know.
When I started blogging, back in June of 2004, I was just coming out of the isolation I had gone into when Jay died. I had so much I had to say, but no one I could say it to. After the three isolating years of our battle with his brain cancer, and three years of my grief, there was no one I was close to. No one whose life intersected mine. (There was Daughter, but I couldn't dump all this on her - she was TOO close.)
The journal (which started on AOL, at http://journals.aol.com/jaykolb/Moraine/) helped me to deal with feelings I needed to look at and purge. Because it was all about my thoughts and feelings, I was very open (I am normally anyway), and that openness has continued.
But now my life is different. There are other people involved now. My feelings are now bound up in the actions of and intersections with others, and maybe it's not fair to involve them so much in my journal.
I don't know how to avoid that yet, but I'll have to learn.
Now, the past three days, without mentioning anyone else (difficult!): Wednesday I went to NJ. I had a very good time Wednesday night. Thursday afternoon I visited with Daughter. Got home in the evening and found several calls on my home machine. Returned calls. Today, Friday, I went to the county fair. Met a friend at noon, and we spent the next ten hours visiting every animal barn, every display tent, every retail kiosk, and every food stand. Must have walked many miles! I was wearing walking shoes, and my feet feel like they are about to fall off.
In the antique farm machinery area they have, among other machines, a huge burping saw that makes cedar shingles. Watching it, I mentioned to the friend that I had always wanted to take some of the cedar shreds, "useless" byproduct of the shingle process, to put in net bags in my drawers and closet. Well, purely by chance, at the end of the building they had huge 40-gallon bags of cedar shavings - one fine and one coarse - for $2 a bag! I bought the bag of fine.
Next year I'll have to send out a mental request for smaller bags. 40 gallons of cedar shreds is still wood, and a LOT of wood. The bag was heavy. Maybe 40 pounds. I was lucky to have a friend along to get it to the car.
This is the first year since 1999 that I have had company at the fair. I had always gone alone.
.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
1449 Dear Diary - Tuesday
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
To CVS for vitamins etc. They had a 2 for 1 sale on magnesium, but only one on the shelf, so I got a rain check coupon. Now I have to remember I have it....
Bank for cash.
IGA for cat food and yogurt. I forgot to buy iced tea mix.
To deli for iced tea.
Made reservations for Wednesday night.
Paid some bills.
P.O. to mail checks.
Cleaned cats' litter boxes.
Threw rocks in the side yard. It's funny how when you have rough land graded, it "grows" rocks. They actually push themselves up to the surface. I've been exercising my arms, and I was surprised at how far into the woods I can throw a rock now.
Took a dress in on the sides and marked it for hemmng.
Watered plants.
Took out the garbage.
Brought in a bunch of things from the car.
Sigh.
.
To CVS for vitamins etc. They had a 2 for 1 sale on magnesium, but only one on the shelf, so I got a rain check coupon. Now I have to remember I have it....
Bank for cash.
IGA for cat food and yogurt. I forgot to buy iced tea mix.
To deli for iced tea.
Made reservations for Wednesday night.
Paid some bills.
P.O. to mail checks.
Cleaned cats' litter boxes.
Threw rocks in the side yard. It's funny how when you have rough land graded, it "grows" rocks. They actually push themselves up to the surface. I've been exercising my arms, and I was surprised at how far into the woods I can throw a rock now.
Took a dress in on the sides and marked it for hemmng.
Watered plants.
Took out the garbage.
Brought in a bunch of things from the car.
Sigh.
.
Monday, August 20, 2007
1448 Kitty Update
Monday, August 21, 2007
Since I sprayed the laundry room doorway with "comforting" pheromones this morning and Jasper was willing to come out, I've left the door open, and he's had the run of the house.
Miss Thunderfoot got several inoculations this morning, and she always runs a fever and gets sluggish for two days after, so it seemed like a good time to let Jasper loose.
They crossed paths only once today. Jasper was coming through the kitchen from the dining room, and Thunder was at her water dish. Jasper had to pass about three feet from her. She hissed, and he bushed out his tail, put his head down, and ran past her to get to the laundry room. She did not chase him. I praised both of them.
Jasper has the cutest little voice, and he talks a lot. Sitting here in the den I can track his progress through the house by the tiny high-pitched "Ee. Ee. Eep"s. He sounds like a shy sea gull.
.
Since I sprayed the laundry room doorway with "comforting" pheromones this morning and Jasper was willing to come out, I've left the door open, and he's had the run of the house.
Miss Thunderfoot got several inoculations this morning, and she always runs a fever and gets sluggish for two days after, so it seemed like a good time to let Jasper loose.
They crossed paths only once today. Jasper was coming through the kitchen from the dining room, and Thunder was at her water dish. Jasper had to pass about three feet from her. She hissed, and he bushed out his tail, put his head down, and ran past her to get to the laundry room. She did not chase him. I praised both of them.
Jasper has the cutest little voice, and he talks a lot. Sitting here in the den I can track his progress through the house by the tiny high-pitched "Ee. Ee. Eep"s. He sounds like a shy sea gull.
.
1447 Dear Diary - Monday
Monday, August 20, 2007
Miss Thunderfoot's annual vet appointment was today. She weighs 10 lb 11 oz, within 3 ounces of her weight the past three years, so I guess I'm feeding her right. It's a little over 10 years since we adopted her, and she was under a year then, so I'd say she's about 11 years old.
I asked the vet how I could ease her acceptance of Jasper, and he recommended a pheromone spray that calms cats. I sprayed it on the laundry room doorway, and it had an instant effect on Jasper. Ever since Thunder spat and swiped at him Saturday, he wouldn't go anywhere near the doorway. Right after I sprayed the doorway, he came right through and gingerly explored the kitchen. Thunder was in hiding, sulking, at the time.
The vet said that Thunder will need to express her desire to be dominant, and since Jasper doesn't seem to be aggressive and therefore should be willing to accept her dominance, it should work out eventually.
I hope.
The Hairless Hunk mowed my lawn while I was at the vet's, and he's out there now with a trimmer. Wearing a shirt. Boo.
Roman called today to lock in our day to go to the fair. It starts tomorrow and ends Sunday. We decided on Friday. He originally mentioned Wednesday, but I'll be seeing The Man Wednesday evening. I didn't tell Roman that. I just said that Wednesday and Thursday weren't good for me. Not that I'm hiding anything. Lines drawn and all that. None of his business, really.
I'm kind of blah today, don't know why. Stuff to do and I'm not doing it. Rebelling.
.
Miss Thunderfoot's annual vet appointment was today. She weighs 10 lb 11 oz, within 3 ounces of her weight the past three years, so I guess I'm feeding her right. It's a little over 10 years since we adopted her, and she was under a year then, so I'd say she's about 11 years old.
I asked the vet how I could ease her acceptance of Jasper, and he recommended a pheromone spray that calms cats. I sprayed it on the laundry room doorway, and it had an instant effect on Jasper. Ever since Thunder spat and swiped at him Saturday, he wouldn't go anywhere near the doorway. Right after I sprayed the doorway, he came right through and gingerly explored the kitchen. Thunder was in hiding, sulking, at the time.
The vet said that Thunder will need to express her desire to be dominant, and since Jasper doesn't seem to be aggressive and therefore should be willing to accept her dominance, it should work out eventually.
I hope.
The Hairless Hunk mowed my lawn while I was at the vet's, and he's out there now with a trimmer. Wearing a shirt. Boo.
Roman called today to lock in our day to go to the fair. It starts tomorrow and ends Sunday. We decided on Friday. He originally mentioned Wednesday, but I'll be seeing The Man Wednesday evening. I didn't tell Roman that. I just said that Wednesday and Thursday weren't good for me. Not that I'm hiding anything. Lines drawn and all that. None of his business, really.
I'm kind of blah today, don't know why. Stuff to do and I'm not doing it. Rebelling.
.
1446 Auction Tutorial
I've learned a few things about live auctions.
Never, ever, bid on anything you have not actually held in your hands and examined. This is rule #1 and the most important. Auctions always have a preview. Go to it. If there's a preview a day or more before the auction, go early, and then do your research. Who is that artist? How much does that chair usually sell for? Then ALSO go late to the preview immediately before the auction and reexamine the things you plan to bid on. Between the first time you looked at that music box and the time it goes up for bid, many other people have touched it, and someone may have broken it. Parts may now be missing.
Once you have decided on your items, make a note of what you consider a reasonable price, and promise yourself you won't go more than one or two bid levels over that. I mark items with one, two, or three stars. One star = absolute limit. Two stars = I'll go over one or two bids. Three stars = I WANT IT AND I WILL HAVE IT AND NO ONE WILL STAND IN MY WAY, DAMMIT! (I'm allowed one of those every few years.)
During the actual auction, do not be temped to bid on something that seems wonderful, and the bids seem low, if it's not something you had already decided to bid on. Because you had not decided to bid on it before, you didn't examine it carefully, and the temptingly low bids are probably because of a major flaw.
Never jump at the auctioneer's first call. He'll ask first for, say, $100. This is an indication of what he considers an acceptable bid, but if there are no bidders, he'll drop. He'll ask for $85, then $70, and he'll keep dropping until someone bites. The lower you let him drop, the lower you might get it for. In most cases, once he has the first bite, it will rapidly go up to what he really wants, and in the process he discovers who in the audience are the interested parties. Which leads to the next pointer.
Once the bidding starts, don't wait to get in. The temptation is to wait until the bidding slows, the theory being that the fewer bidders, the less rise (which is not true, it won't go any higher than it would with or without you), and maybe you want to see how high it will go before you decide to get in. However, understand that the auctioneer is looking out over a large herd of people, and watching for sometimes subtle signs. During the first round or so he spots the interested bidders, and "works" them against each other. If it gets hot and heavy, and you decide to jump in late, you can stand on your chair and wave a red flag, and he might not see you. He might call it sold before he glances to the left and sees you. Display your interest early, and understand that once you shake your head no when he looks at you for the next rise, you are out of it and probably won't be able to get back in.
During bidding, maintain eye contact with the auctioneer. He will indicate when he expects to hear from you with eye contact. If he glances your way and you're looking down or away, he will interpret that as "No", and you may find yourself out of the bidding.
Be very careful of multiple identical item lots. Know exactly what your bid means. The catalog might show and state "a pair of garden stools", and the helpers bring out a matched pair. Don't assume your bid will be for the pair. Listen carefully for the words "times the money" or "per item", or the like. It may be said only once, and if said, it means that your bid will be multiplied by the number of items. So if you win the bid at $50, you must pay $100, and you must buy both stools. Claiming that you didn't understand that your bid was going to be doubled, that you thought you were bidding $50 for the pair, will get you nowhere.
You can make some types of side deals with other bidders. I'm not talking about collusion to keep the bids low. That will get you thrown out and barred forever, if not sued. However, if you bid on and win two garden stools for $50 times 2 in fair bidding, and you really want only one, if you happened to notice who it was who made the next-to-last bid at $45, it's acceptable to offer them the other stool for that lower bid, $45 or lower. (If you want to make a profit, do it off the auction hall property.)
Don't jump too soon on bidder's choice items. Sometimes there will be a tray of items, like, say, a tray of 20 similar silver candlesticks. The winner of the first round of bidding gets one or more of his choice at that price each, let's say $50 each. If there are still items on the tray, they will be offered to anyone else who wants choice for the same $50 price.
Now, this is my opinion, and it comes from a LOT of experience. If there was one particular candlestick you want, and you're willing to pay $50 for it, then win that first bid, or take the first offer. Otherwise, don't move too fast, because now the remaining candlesticks will be reauctioned! And the second round is unlikely to go to $50. It might go to $40. The third round will be even lower. The last five candlesticks might go for $5. The only danger here is that if you hold out too long, on the second or third round the winner might elect to take them all.
A live auction is "as is" and "buyer beware". It's not like eBay, where if the seller's description leaves out something important, like "Hey, man, it doesn't work!", you can get your money back. The live auction house makes no representations and gives no guarantees, and descriptions in the catalogs are assumed to be puffery. So if you bid on and win that "brand new in the box" weed whacker, and when you get it home it isn't new and it doesn't work, well, tough. You have no recourse (especially if you had the opportunity to examine it). All you have a right to expect is "something" in the box. You must understand the implications of "as is" when you decide how high you're willing to bid.
Remember that the auctioneer is faster than you are. Be careful of that first very low bid for junk. They bring out a sad little something, maybe an ugly afghan. The auctioneer drops his asking bid way down. $5. Nobody wants it. He begs. He says, hey, for $5 you could put it in the doghouse - and six hands shoot up. Bam! You've been suckered! Auctioneers are quick. Bam bam bam his hand shoots around the room as he says "$5 $10 $15 $20 $25" and as he's pointing at you, "$30", and surprise, you just bought an ugly afghan you don't want for $30! The auctioneer can nail you faster than you can react to get your hand down.
Hint - if you have a right-handed auctioneer, the front on his left is a bad place to sit if you're susceptible to begging. He'll usually start from his "prime" side and swing around, making left front the last and highest "pity" bid. Guess where I always sit....
.
Never, ever, bid on anything you have not actually held in your hands and examined. This is rule #1 and the most important. Auctions always have a preview. Go to it. If there's a preview a day or more before the auction, go early, and then do your research. Who is that artist? How much does that chair usually sell for? Then ALSO go late to the preview immediately before the auction and reexamine the things you plan to bid on. Between the first time you looked at that music box and the time it goes up for bid, many other people have touched it, and someone may have broken it. Parts may now be missing.
Once you have decided on your items, make a note of what you consider a reasonable price, and promise yourself you won't go more than one or two bid levels over that. I mark items with one, two, or three stars. One star = absolute limit. Two stars = I'll go over one or two bids. Three stars = I WANT IT AND I WILL HAVE IT AND NO ONE WILL STAND IN MY WAY, DAMMIT! (I'm allowed one of those every few years.)
During the actual auction, do not be temped to bid on something that seems wonderful, and the bids seem low, if it's not something you had already decided to bid on. Because you had not decided to bid on it before, you didn't examine it carefully, and the temptingly low bids are probably because of a major flaw.
Never jump at the auctioneer's first call. He'll ask first for, say, $100. This is an indication of what he considers an acceptable bid, but if there are no bidders, he'll drop. He'll ask for $85, then $70, and he'll keep dropping until someone bites. The lower you let him drop, the lower you might get it for. In most cases, once he has the first bite, it will rapidly go up to what he really wants, and in the process he discovers who in the audience are the interested parties. Which leads to the next pointer.
Once the bidding starts, don't wait to get in. The temptation is to wait until the bidding slows, the theory being that the fewer bidders, the less rise (which is not true, it won't go any higher than it would with or without you), and maybe you want to see how high it will go before you decide to get in. However, understand that the auctioneer is looking out over a large herd of people, and watching for sometimes subtle signs. During the first round or so he spots the interested bidders, and "works" them against each other. If it gets hot and heavy, and you decide to jump in late, you can stand on your chair and wave a red flag, and he might not see you. He might call it sold before he glances to the left and sees you. Display your interest early, and understand that once you shake your head no when he looks at you for the next rise, you are out of it and probably won't be able to get back in.
During bidding, maintain eye contact with the auctioneer. He will indicate when he expects to hear from you with eye contact. If he glances your way and you're looking down or away, he will interpret that as "No", and you may find yourself out of the bidding.
Be very careful of multiple identical item lots. Know exactly what your bid means. The catalog might show and state "a pair of garden stools", and the helpers bring out a matched pair. Don't assume your bid will be for the pair. Listen carefully for the words "times the money" or "per item", or the like. It may be said only once, and if said, it means that your bid will be multiplied by the number of items. So if you win the bid at $50, you must pay $100, and you must buy both stools. Claiming that you didn't understand that your bid was going to be doubled, that you thought you were bidding $50 for the pair, will get you nowhere.
You can make some types of side deals with other bidders. I'm not talking about collusion to keep the bids low. That will get you thrown out and barred forever, if not sued. However, if you bid on and win two garden stools for $50 times 2 in fair bidding, and you really want only one, if you happened to notice who it was who made the next-to-last bid at $45, it's acceptable to offer them the other stool for that lower bid, $45 or lower. (If you want to make a profit, do it off the auction hall property.)
Don't jump too soon on bidder's choice items. Sometimes there will be a tray of items, like, say, a tray of 20 similar silver candlesticks. The winner of the first round of bidding gets one or more of his choice at that price each, let's say $50 each. If there are still items on the tray, they will be offered to anyone else who wants choice for the same $50 price.
Now, this is my opinion, and it comes from a LOT of experience. If there was one particular candlestick you want, and you're willing to pay $50 for it, then win that first bid, or take the first offer. Otherwise, don't move too fast, because now the remaining candlesticks will be reauctioned! And the second round is unlikely to go to $50. It might go to $40. The third round will be even lower. The last five candlesticks might go for $5. The only danger here is that if you hold out too long, on the second or third round the winner might elect to take them all.
A live auction is "as is" and "buyer beware". It's not like eBay, where if the seller's description leaves out something important, like "Hey, man, it doesn't work!", you can get your money back. The live auction house makes no representations and gives no guarantees, and descriptions in the catalogs are assumed to be puffery. So if you bid on and win that "brand new in the box" weed whacker, and when you get it home it isn't new and it doesn't work, well, tough. You have no recourse (especially if you had the opportunity to examine it). All you have a right to expect is "something" in the box. You must understand the implications of "as is" when you decide how high you're willing to bid.
Remember that the auctioneer is faster than you are. Be careful of that first very low bid for junk. They bring out a sad little something, maybe an ugly afghan. The auctioneer drops his asking bid way down. $5. Nobody wants it. He begs. He says, hey, for $5 you could put it in the doghouse - and six hands shoot up. Bam! You've been suckered! Auctioneers are quick. Bam bam bam his hand shoots around the room as he says "$5 $10 $15 $20 $25" and as he's pointing at you, "$30", and surprise, you just bought an ugly afghan you don't want for $30! The auctioneer can nail you faster than you can react to get your hand down.
Hint - if you have a right-handed auctioneer, the front on his left is a bad place to sit if you're susceptible to begging. He'll usually start from his "prime" side and swing around, making left front the last and highest "pity" bid. Guess where I always sit....
.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
1445 Auction / Bylaws Meeting
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Roman, FW, and I were supposed to go to the auction together last night, but FW cancelled out, so it was just Roman and me. This was his first estate auction, and I was afraid it wouldn't be "his thing" and he'd be bored. Actually, I think he was, but he's trying awfully hard these days to humor me. In return, when I looked ahead and saw that there was nothing I had marked on the last four pages of the catalog (of 16 pages total), I suggested that we could just leave early. I think he was grateful.
When I say he's humoring me, over the past two years I have twice invited him to the county fair, and both times he made a face and told me he doesn't care for fairs, and he clearly had no interest. Last night I mentioned the fair, and we are now planning to go together. Hmmmm. I may have to be careful about that. It begins to look like he's doing things with me not for the things, but for the with me part. I probably shouldn't allow that.
I did well at the auction. I bought a gorgeous blue and white Chinese vase, and a Swarovski crystal chandelier for the dining room. My dining room set is 1880s Berkey & Gay, and the chandelier that had been in there is modern smoked glass. This one will go so much better. It's not the "wedding cake" style - it's all curves of brass with scattered strings of crystals. It gives the impression of a graceful woman with long crystal earrings.
---------------------------------
The first bylaws revision committee meeting was this evening, and it went really well! I was surprised at how well. We all seemed to be on the same wavelength. We got through about 1/3 of the material, and so far it's looking good.
The member about whom I had been worried and I had had a small spat about a week ago, and we were being very respectful of each other's thoughts and comments. And I think my ranting in this journal two entries back really did release steam, so I wasn't tempted to push buttons (although I DID mention a few things that had gone wrong with the previous revision, and I really didn't have to do that, and I am a tiny bit ashamed that I did. I promise to control myself better in the next session.)
.
Roman, FW, and I were supposed to go to the auction together last night, but FW cancelled out, so it was just Roman and me. This was his first estate auction, and I was afraid it wouldn't be "his thing" and he'd be bored. Actually, I think he was, but he's trying awfully hard these days to humor me. In return, when I looked ahead and saw that there was nothing I had marked on the last four pages of the catalog (of 16 pages total), I suggested that we could just leave early. I think he was grateful.
When I say he's humoring me, over the past two years I have twice invited him to the county fair, and both times he made a face and told me he doesn't care for fairs, and he clearly had no interest. Last night I mentioned the fair, and we are now planning to go together. Hmmmm. I may have to be careful about that. It begins to look like he's doing things with me not for the things, but for the with me part. I probably shouldn't allow that.
I did well at the auction. I bought a gorgeous blue and white Chinese vase, and a Swarovski crystal chandelier for the dining room. My dining room set is 1880s Berkey & Gay, and the chandelier that had been in there is modern smoked glass. This one will go so much better. It's not the "wedding cake" style - it's all curves of brass with scattered strings of crystals. It gives the impression of a graceful woman with long crystal earrings.
---------------------------------
The first bylaws revision committee meeting was this evening, and it went really well! I was surprised at how well. We all seemed to be on the same wavelength. We got through about 1/3 of the material, and so far it's looking good.
The member about whom I had been worried and I had had a small spat about a week ago, and we were being very respectful of each other's thoughts and comments. And I think my ranting in this journal two entries back really did release steam, so I wasn't tempted to push buttons (although I DID mention a few things that had gone wrong with the previous revision, and I really didn't have to do that, and I am a tiny bit ashamed that I did. I promise to control myself better in the next session.)
.
1444 Sweet Home Ala Bama
Ok, this is, to quote Jack, too rich to pass up. I give you the Leningrad Cowboys and the Russian Red Army Choir, performing "Sweet Home Alabama". Enjoy. They obviously did.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lNFRLrP014)
Update: After this video there is usually a set of "related videos" offered. If "Leningrad Cowboys, Leningrad" is offered, WATCH IT! It's beautiful and sad. If it's not offered, go to YouTube and search for it.
.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lNFRLrP014)
Update: After this video there is usually a set of "related videos" offered. If "Leningrad Cowboys, Leningrad" is offered, WATCH IT! It's beautiful and sad. If it's not offered, go to YouTube and search for it.
.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
1443 Bylaws Rant
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Don't bother reading this. I'm just blowing off steam.
Just thinking about the bylaws is making me angry.
This guy who has appointed himself chair of the bylaws revision committee was in charge of the previous revision of the bylaws, about ten years ago. The usual process is that revisions are proposed, and published in the newsletter. Comments are gathered, decisions are made by the committee, then it is sent to the national office for approval, and the final version is again published for an approval vote of the membership.
The way the A55hole did it ten years ago, the general membership didn't see it at all until time for the vote. This "guy who knows best" didn't feel he needed any other input. I don't know how the hell it got approved (probably nobody actually read it), because it was full of errors. Stupid errors.
Like the head of the board has traditionally been called the "Local Secretary (a.k.a LocSec)", a British term. This guy happened to be the LocSec at the time, and he thought it didn't sound important enough, so he decided he wanted to be the President. So references to the LocSec were changed to President. EXCEPT, not in ALL places! So up front where the officers are defined, we have a President. There is no LocSec. But later, where responsibilities are assigned, the President apparently has none, and the LocSec (who doesn't exist) has many. The A55hole didn't even ask anyone else to proofread it!
In the section on the timing of elections, there is a nominating committee, and an option for petition nominations. However, when you lay out the election schedule (which is defined by specific month and day in the Bylaws) next to the newsletter cutoff and mailing dates (which are not in the bylaws, and change on the whim of the editor), there are perhaps THREE DAYS for the membership to see the recommendations of the nominating committee, decide to run as a petition candidate, get the signatures, and get the petition to the Board and to the editor.
There are only five elected officers, and if the nominating committee comes up with only five candidates and there are no petition candidates, then the five are declared elected. No voting.
The Board appoints the nominating committee. The nominating committee selects the candidates. There's no requirement to ask in the newsletter for candidates to volunteer, and not enough time anyway. There's no time for petition candidates. If the nominating committee selects only five candidates, they are declared elected. This looks like the previous board SELECTS the succeeding board. And that's exactly what happens. There has been no real election since this guy single-handedly revised the bylaws ten years or so ago.
How convenient.
There were other problems.
When I saw all the errors, I wrote them all up and submitted the corrections and recommendations, and was horrified when I was told that "There isn't enough time to make the changes. We have to submit it to National as is, because that's what they approved." (National makes you jump through hoops so you understand that it's not something you want to do often.) I was shocked when National didn't disapprove, but this is a small group, and I'll bet A55hole said in the application that we simply followed the skeleton from National, so they didn't bother reading it.
So, ok, A55hole has decided it's time to revise again. He asked me if I wanted to be involved, because he knew he damn well better. He also asked another member, probably randomly, I've never heard of her, and from the email discussions far, I gather she has no idea what bylaws ARE.
But, of course, neither does A55hole.
I'm also pissed because there was NO copy of the bylaws locally available (it is supposed to be distributed to new members, and to any member who asks. I've been asking for years, and have been rebuffed), so A55hole had to get HARDCOPY from National. He gave it to Roman, Roman scanned it, and ran it through a program that converted the scan to text, and emailed the cleaned-up script file to A55hole.
Now, it seems like we OTHER members of the bylaws revision committee should have received a copy, huh? Pretty soon, huh? So we could, like, maybe, review it? And think about what we'd like to see fixed?
He sat on it for weeks. Probably more than a month - I didn't mark the calendar. And it was pretty obvious that when he finally sent me and the other woman a copy, he'd already figured out what he wanted.
When I say he doesn't know what bylaws are supposed to do, here's an example. The Bylaws require that the board meets a minimum of once a quarter. All board meetings are open to the membership and announced in the newsletter. He wants to have an "Annual Business Meeting" required in the Bylaws.
I asked how is that different from other board meetings. He said it's open to the membership, and there's a pot-luck dinner, and a speaker. Is the business discussed any different? No. I pointed out that all meetings are open, and any one of them could include dinner and/or a speaker. He wants to REQUIRE dinner and a speaker at a board meeting once a year.
I pointed out that we used to have speakers several times a year, after board meetings, and it died for lack of interest, and a dearth of free but interesting speakers who will show up for five or six people. The general membership simply isn't interested. So if you put this requirement in the bylaws, once a year someone will have to find and schedule a speaker and coordinate a pot-luck dinner, and the only attendees will be the board members. And when they decide it isn't worth doing any more, they have to revise the Bylaws to get rid of it! If the Board wants to do this fancy meeting, all they have to do is decide to do it, then do it. You DON'T require it in the Bylaws! Bylaws should require only the absolute minimum for the proper functioning of the group.
A55!
I'm really angry, and I'm working myself up to do battle. He's VERY difficult to disagree with. He is always so positive he's right that he doesn't listen to reason. I'm going to have to use Authority, National guidelines and recommendations, against him - it's the only thing he might listen to.
Judging from his emails, he seems to think we're going to just fix typos, add a statement that President=LocSec, and rubber stamp some fancy requirements he wants to add.
Yeah. Sure. Little does he know....
Now pardon me while I go draw up an elections timeline, and find some authority for requiring that the nominating committee should come up with at least one more candidate than positions to be filled.
Snarl!
.
Don't bother reading this. I'm just blowing off steam.
Just thinking about the bylaws is making me angry.
This guy who has appointed himself chair of the bylaws revision committee was in charge of the previous revision of the bylaws, about ten years ago. The usual process is that revisions are proposed, and published in the newsletter. Comments are gathered, decisions are made by the committee, then it is sent to the national office for approval, and the final version is again published for an approval vote of the membership.
The way the A55hole did it ten years ago, the general membership didn't see it at all until time for the vote. This "guy who knows best" didn't feel he needed any other input. I don't know how the hell it got approved (probably nobody actually read it), because it was full of errors. Stupid errors.
Like the head of the board has traditionally been called the "Local Secretary (a.k.a LocSec)", a British term. This guy happened to be the LocSec at the time, and he thought it didn't sound important enough, so he decided he wanted to be the President. So references to the LocSec were changed to President. EXCEPT, not in ALL places! So up front where the officers are defined, we have a President. There is no LocSec. But later, where responsibilities are assigned, the President apparently has none, and the LocSec (who doesn't exist) has many. The A55hole didn't even ask anyone else to proofread it!
In the section on the timing of elections, there is a nominating committee, and an option for petition nominations. However, when you lay out the election schedule (which is defined by specific month and day in the Bylaws) next to the newsletter cutoff and mailing dates (which are not in the bylaws, and change on the whim of the editor), there are perhaps THREE DAYS for the membership to see the recommendations of the nominating committee, decide to run as a petition candidate, get the signatures, and get the petition to the Board and to the editor.
There are only five elected officers, and if the nominating committee comes up with only five candidates and there are no petition candidates, then the five are declared elected. No voting.
The Board appoints the nominating committee. The nominating committee selects the candidates. There's no requirement to ask in the newsletter for candidates to volunteer, and not enough time anyway. There's no time for petition candidates. If the nominating committee selects only five candidates, they are declared elected. This looks like the previous board SELECTS the succeeding board. And that's exactly what happens. There has been no real election since this guy single-handedly revised the bylaws ten years or so ago.
How convenient.
There were other problems.
When I saw all the errors, I wrote them all up and submitted the corrections and recommendations, and was horrified when I was told that "There isn't enough time to make the changes. We have to submit it to National as is, because that's what they approved." (National makes you jump through hoops so you understand that it's not something you want to do often.) I was shocked when National didn't disapprove, but this is a small group, and I'll bet A55hole said in the application that we simply followed the skeleton from National, so they didn't bother reading it.
So, ok, A55hole has decided it's time to revise again. He asked me if I wanted to be involved, because he knew he damn well better. He also asked another member, probably randomly, I've never heard of her, and from the email discussions far, I gather she has no idea what bylaws ARE.
But, of course, neither does A55hole.
I'm also pissed because there was NO copy of the bylaws locally available (it is supposed to be distributed to new members, and to any member who asks. I've been asking for years, and have been rebuffed), so A55hole had to get HARDCOPY from National. He gave it to Roman, Roman scanned it, and ran it through a program that converted the scan to text, and emailed the cleaned-up script file to A55hole.
Now, it seems like we OTHER members of the bylaws revision committee should have received a copy, huh? Pretty soon, huh? So we could, like, maybe, review it? And think about what we'd like to see fixed?
He sat on it for weeks. Probably more than a month - I didn't mark the calendar. And it was pretty obvious that when he finally sent me and the other woman a copy, he'd already figured out what he wanted.
When I say he doesn't know what bylaws are supposed to do, here's an example. The Bylaws require that the board meets a minimum of once a quarter. All board meetings are open to the membership and announced in the newsletter. He wants to have an "Annual Business Meeting" required in the Bylaws.
I asked how is that different from other board meetings. He said it's open to the membership, and there's a pot-luck dinner, and a speaker. Is the business discussed any different? No. I pointed out that all meetings are open, and any one of them could include dinner and/or a speaker. He wants to REQUIRE dinner and a speaker at a board meeting once a year.
I pointed out that we used to have speakers several times a year, after board meetings, and it died for lack of interest, and a dearth of free but interesting speakers who will show up for five or six people. The general membership simply isn't interested. So if you put this requirement in the bylaws, once a year someone will have to find and schedule a speaker and coordinate a pot-luck dinner, and the only attendees will be the board members. And when they decide it isn't worth doing any more, they have to revise the Bylaws to get rid of it! If the Board wants to do this fancy meeting, all they have to do is decide to do it, then do it. You DON'T require it in the Bylaws! Bylaws should require only the absolute minimum for the proper functioning of the group.
A55!
I'm really angry, and I'm working myself up to do battle. He's VERY difficult to disagree with. He is always so positive he's right that he doesn't listen to reason. I'm going to have to use Authority, National guidelines and recommendations, against him - it's the only thing he might listen to.
Judging from his emails, he seems to think we're going to just fix typos, add a statement that President=LocSec, and rubber stamp some fancy requirements he wants to add.
Yeah. Sure. Little does he know....
Now pardon me while I go draw up an elections timeline, and find some authority for requiring that the nominating committee should come up with at least one more candidate than positions to be filled.
Snarl!
.
1442 No Sleep
Saturday, August 18, 2007
It's 7 am, and I haven't slept at all. I don't know why. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just couldn't fall asleep.
I won't be able to nap today, either, because the day is full. This morning I have to cut up boxes, and take the cardboard and glass bottles to the recycle center.
I've gathered all the information for the Mensa Bylaws revision meeting tomorrow, but I have to sit down and work on my recommendations and arguments. That'll take a few hours this afternoon. I'll be "going up against" the guy who thinks he knows everything, and we've already heard some of the changes he wants to make, and he doesn't seem to understand the purpose of bylaws, so I have to be fully prepared.
At 4:30 I'll meet Roman and FW at an estate auction. Neither of them had ever been to a real auction, and I'd mentioned that there's one tonight, and they both wanted to go. These auctions easily go 'til midnight.
It's gonna be a long day....
.
It's 7 am, and I haven't slept at all. I don't know why. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just couldn't fall asleep.
I won't be able to nap today, either, because the day is full. This morning I have to cut up boxes, and take the cardboard and glass bottles to the recycle center.
I've gathered all the information for the Mensa Bylaws revision meeting tomorrow, but I have to sit down and work on my recommendations and arguments. That'll take a few hours this afternoon. I'll be "going up against" the guy who thinks he knows everything, and we've already heard some of the changes he wants to make, and he doesn't seem to understand the purpose of bylaws, so I have to be fully prepared.
At 4:30 I'll meet Roman and FW at an estate auction. Neither of them had ever been to a real auction, and I'd mentioned that there's one tonight, and they both wanted to go. These auctions easily go 'til midnight.
It's gonna be a long day....
.
Friday, August 17, 2007
1441 Mirthday
Friday, August 17, 2007
First off, no, I don't mind if anyone reading this links to me in their own blogs. The only folks I'm "hiding from" are local gossips, who are highly unlikely to be reading your blogs, so they won't find me through you. (Actually, it's only one person, but I figured this was a good time to clean the slate, so to speak.) He won't find me on a search, either. I'm WAY down on the search lists at this point.
Incidentally, I've informed my friends that I'd moved, and why, and they are all ok with it. They all know the one who screwed it up for everyone, and they're not surprised - he's a notorious gossip - and having read my treatment of themselves and others up to this point, they trust me. As one of them has said, "You're so open all the time, I don't need to read your blog to know what's going on with you. It's more fun when you tell me in person."
So, link away. There aren't so many of you that you'd move me up in search lists.
--------------------------------------
Tonight was Mirthday.
It started out as a monthly Mensa event for everyone who had a birthday in that month, and anyone else who wanted to attend. Lack of attendance has dropped it from the calendar, except for when a birthday person wants to put it in. So far, the past two years, the only Mirthday has been in August, organized by FW (she likes celebrating her birthday). Last year the attendees were FW and me. This year, FW got 10 people who said they'd be there - right up until this afternoon, when they began dropping out, and it ended up FW, Roman, and me. Sheesh.
We met on a moored barge on the Hudson River, at the Newburgh waterfront. There's a bar on the top deck, roofed over, but open to the river all around the sides. The restaurant is downstairs. We had a drink up top, then went down for dinner.
It was funny - I confused the slight swaying of the boat with the effects of my (very mild) drink, and I felt a bit tipsy. I got giggly. I may have said a few things I shouldn't have, but I guess it was ok.
The food was good. Best steak I've had in a long time. Fed the ducks the remnants of our bread basket.
.
First off, no, I don't mind if anyone reading this links to me in their own blogs. The only folks I'm "hiding from" are local gossips, who are highly unlikely to be reading your blogs, so they won't find me through you. (Actually, it's only one person, but I figured this was a good time to clean the slate, so to speak.) He won't find me on a search, either. I'm WAY down on the search lists at this point.
Incidentally, I've informed my friends that I'd moved, and why, and they are all ok with it. They all know the one who screwed it up for everyone, and they're not surprised - he's a notorious gossip - and having read my treatment of themselves and others up to this point, they trust me. As one of them has said, "You're so open all the time, I don't need to read your blog to know what's going on with you. It's more fun when you tell me in person."
So, link away. There aren't so many of you that you'd move me up in search lists.
--------------------------------------
Tonight was Mirthday.
It started out as a monthly Mensa event for everyone who had a birthday in that month, and anyone else who wanted to attend. Lack of attendance has dropped it from the calendar, except for when a birthday person wants to put it in. So far, the past two years, the only Mirthday has been in August, organized by FW (she likes celebrating her birthday). Last year the attendees were FW and me. This year, FW got 10 people who said they'd be there - right up until this afternoon, when they began dropping out, and it ended up FW, Roman, and me. Sheesh.
We met on a moored barge on the Hudson River, at the Newburgh waterfront. There's a bar on the top deck, roofed over, but open to the river all around the sides. The restaurant is downstairs. We had a drink up top, then went down for dinner.
It was funny - I confused the slight swaying of the boat with the effects of my (very mild) drink, and I felt a bit tipsy. I got giggly. I may have said a few things I shouldn't have, but I guess it was ok.
The food was good. Best steak I've had in a long time. Fed the ducks the remnants of our bread basket.
.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
1440 Dinner Talk
Thursday, August 16, 2007
I arrived at the mall a bit early for dinner, so I did some shopping. Bought (among other things) two black bras. Neither of them are the right size (that's why I don't HAVE any black bras, Daughter! They never seem to have any in my size) but I won't wear them very often, so they'll do.
Dinner was Roman, me, Bill, and The Ditz. I swear someone must have smacked The Ditz upside the head or something. She was reasonable again. Oddly, general conversation seemed to settle on "cats we have known". Really deep Mensan conversation....
At the buffet, I noticed a man looking at me, "that" look. I looked away, then looked back, and he was still looking, and he smiled and said hello, and I said hello, then I walked over to him and said "Do I know you?" (Well, he was cute!) Turns out he had the office next to mine over twenty years ago. Chatted. He asked if I still worked for The Company, and I said no, I had quit when I married Jay - and was amused by the reaction. He immediately deflated, lost interest.
I didn't clarify. I don't need complications.
But he sure was good looking.
As usual, Roman and I stayed at the table to talk after the others left.
He invited me to go to Israel with him in late November or early December. His daughter lives there. I didn't know what to say. I want to go. He's the perfect person to go with. But we have this awkwardness right now. Finally I said I'd love to go, but "You understand, it would be separate rooms. In fact, it's possible I will have made a commitment to someone else by then." I'm serious about commitments. He said that would be fine.
Oh dear. What now. What next.
I don't need complications.
But I also think we really could do it platonically. He knows how much he hurt me in 2005 and 2006, and he does feel bad about it, and I think he will be very careful now. Plus, we will have his daughter as a chaperone. And I'm not exactly a pushover.
.
I arrived at the mall a bit early for dinner, so I did some shopping. Bought (among other things) two black bras. Neither of them are the right size (that's why I don't HAVE any black bras, Daughter! They never seem to have any in my size) but I won't wear them very often, so they'll do.
Dinner was Roman, me, Bill, and The Ditz. I swear someone must have smacked The Ditz upside the head or something. She was reasonable again. Oddly, general conversation seemed to settle on "cats we have known". Really deep Mensan conversation....
At the buffet, I noticed a man looking at me, "that" look. I looked away, then looked back, and he was still looking, and he smiled and said hello, and I said hello, then I walked over to him and said "Do I know you?" (Well, he was cute!) Turns out he had the office next to mine over twenty years ago. Chatted. He asked if I still worked for The Company, and I said no, I had quit when I married Jay - and was amused by the reaction. He immediately deflated, lost interest.
I didn't clarify. I don't need complications.
But he sure was good looking.
As usual, Roman and I stayed at the table to talk after the others left.
He invited me to go to Israel with him in late November or early December. His daughter lives there. I didn't know what to say. I want to go. He's the perfect person to go with. But we have this awkwardness right now. Finally I said I'd love to go, but "You understand, it would be separate rooms. In fact, it's possible I will have made a commitment to someone else by then." I'm serious about commitments. He said that would be fine.
Oh dear. What now. What next.
I don't need complications.
But I also think we really could do it platonically. He knows how much he hurt me in 2005 and 2006, and he does feel bad about it, and I think he will be very careful now. Plus, we will have his daughter as a chaperone. And I'm not exactly a pushover.
.
1439 Kitty Update
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Jasper had his first vet appointment today. He got his ears, teeth, and coat checked, and it's all ok. His FIV and leukemia tests were negative, and he got a dose of roundworm killer. He weighs seven pounds! Shocker - he's so small, but it's all bone and muscle, I guess. (When I hold him against my chest, his bottom is on my breast and his shoulders are at my shoulder. I'm used to cats that reach to my waist.)
I told Dr. Tucker about his having been feral, and she was surprised that he was so well behaved. We had a moment of panicked scrabbling when he first came out of the carrier, but even then he was careful of the claws, and calmed down quickly. Dr. T. said she can tell he trusts me by the look on his face. When I was holding him, there was no panic.
She said he's probably just short of a year old. I'm not so sure. I was surprised at how much he'd grown in just the past two and a half weeks. I put him in the same small carrier I'd used to bring him home the night we caught him, and back then he was a mite in all that space. Standing, his ears didn't touch the roof. Today he barely fit. His back was only two inches from the roof. So, really, I still want to put him at about six months. Maybe as much as nine, maybe. But no more.
Third Thursday dinner tonight.
.
Jasper had his first vet appointment today. He got his ears, teeth, and coat checked, and it's all ok. His FIV and leukemia tests were negative, and he got a dose of roundworm killer. He weighs seven pounds! Shocker - he's so small, but it's all bone and muscle, I guess. (When I hold him against my chest, his bottom is on my breast and his shoulders are at my shoulder. I'm used to cats that reach to my waist.)
I told Dr. Tucker about his having been feral, and she was surprised that he was so well behaved. We had a moment of panicked scrabbling when he first came out of the carrier, but even then he was careful of the claws, and calmed down quickly. Dr. T. said she can tell he trusts me by the look on his face. When I was holding him, there was no panic.
She said he's probably just short of a year old. I'm not so sure. I was surprised at how much he'd grown in just the past two and a half weeks. I put him in the same small carrier I'd used to bring him home the night we caught him, and back then he was a mite in all that space. Standing, his ears didn't touch the roof. Today he barely fit. His back was only two inches from the roof. So, really, I still want to put him at about six months. Maybe as much as nine, maybe. But no more.
Third Thursday dinner tonight.
.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
1437 Veggies!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I've rediscovered something I'd forgotten.
I don't get enough fresh vegetables. I eat over half my meals out, and restaurants don't exactly concentrate on fresh vegetables. Salads don't do it, because they're mostly lettuce, which doesn't count.
I tried buying vegetables for the refrigerator, but after a while, I got tired of throwing out almost-full bags of spinach, broccoli, celery, carrots, heads of cabbage, onions, green beans, peppers, etc. when I've eaten a tiny bit and the rest goes mushy or yucky. They just don't sell "one person" amounts of vegetables.
Aha! But they DO!
I've rediscovered the small bags of "ready-cut" vegetables for stir-fry. The bag I'm snacking out of right now has snow peas, broccoli, julienne carrots, celeriac, and turnip, and purple cabbage. There's about three servings in the bag, and there are several different mixes available. Yeah, it's more expensive per pound, but I can eat it all before it gets icky, so in the long run, it's a big savings. And I'm eating my raw veggies!
I'm happy.
.
I've rediscovered something I'd forgotten.
I don't get enough fresh vegetables. I eat over half my meals out, and restaurants don't exactly concentrate on fresh vegetables. Salads don't do it, because they're mostly lettuce, which doesn't count.
I tried buying vegetables for the refrigerator, but after a while, I got tired of throwing out almost-full bags of spinach, broccoli, celery, carrots, heads of cabbage, onions, green beans, peppers, etc. when I've eaten a tiny bit and the rest goes mushy or yucky. They just don't sell "one person" amounts of vegetables.
Aha! But they DO!
I've rediscovered the small bags of "ready-cut" vegetables for stir-fry. The bag I'm snacking out of right now has snow peas, broccoli, julienne carrots, celeriac, and turnip, and purple cabbage. There's about three servings in the bag, and there are several different mixes available. Yeah, it's more expensive per pound, but I can eat it all before it gets icky, so in the long run, it's a big savings. And I'm eating my raw veggies!
I'm happy.
.
1436 Kitty Upate; Conspiracy
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I may have created a monster. Jasper loves me. He wants to rub against me constantly. I can't walk the seven steps across the laundry room because he's weaving around my ankles. I sit down and he climbs into my lap. That's ok, but he's gonna have to learn that it's not a good idea when I sit in the bathroom.
I was amazed that he has no fleas. He does have roundworms! He threw some up this morning. Six and seven inches long, white, and ugly. Luckily, the vet appointment is tomorrow morning. I'm surprised he has worms. He's putting on bone and fat at an amazing rate (I swear he's a third larger now than he was two weeks ago), and his fur is smooth and as shiny as a shorthair tabby ever gets.
He's been a food hog, attacks every dish like he'll never see the like again, which is understandable given his previous life as a hobo, but today he's not eating. Maybe the throwing up discombobulated him.
------------------------------
I spent several hours today watching this movie: http://zeitgeistmovie.com/.
It's two hours long, and I had a problem where it suddenly would stop and the indicator would go all the way to the end. I'd have to move the "needle" back to where it quit, then a second or two beyond that point to restart it. That "feature" was very annoying, but in the end it was more than worth it. You may not agree with the conclusions, but you have to admit it's very well done.
It's in three parts.
The first part is about Christianity, and how it is based on old religions. The movie traces the parallels. One spot that amused me, I think they were too tempted by something too easy - the similarity between "sun" and "son". Yeah, cute. But in the old languages, the word for "sun" and the word for "son" are not homonyms, folks. Oops. The rest, however, is not so easily shrugged off. And yes, there's a strong case for the purpose of organized religion being power and control of the masses. (Will you recognize George Carlin's voice in there?)
The second part is about 9/11, and the case for it having been an inside job, to create a unifying enemy (now that we don't have "The Commies" any more), and an excuse for war. It will make you think.
The third part is about the federal reserve bank (it isn't at all what you thought it was), and international banking cartels, their quest for world domination, and how they've engineered the deaths of hundreds of thousands to further their own agenda. It's scary.
If you have two hours, I recommend watching it.
.
I may have created a monster. Jasper loves me. He wants to rub against me constantly. I can't walk the seven steps across the laundry room because he's weaving around my ankles. I sit down and he climbs into my lap. That's ok, but he's gonna have to learn that it's not a good idea when I sit in the bathroom.
I was amazed that he has no fleas. He does have roundworms! He threw some up this morning. Six and seven inches long, white, and ugly. Luckily, the vet appointment is tomorrow morning. I'm surprised he has worms. He's putting on bone and fat at an amazing rate (I swear he's a third larger now than he was two weeks ago), and his fur is smooth and as shiny as a shorthair tabby ever gets.
He's been a food hog, attacks every dish like he'll never see the like again, which is understandable given his previous life as a hobo, but today he's not eating. Maybe the throwing up discombobulated him.
------------------------------
I spent several hours today watching this movie: http://zeitgeistmovie.com/.
It's two hours long, and I had a problem where it suddenly would stop and the indicator would go all the way to the end. I'd have to move the "needle" back to where it quit, then a second or two beyond that point to restart it. That "feature" was very annoying, but in the end it was more than worth it. You may not agree with the conclusions, but you have to admit it's very well done.
It's in three parts.
The first part is about Christianity, and how it is based on old religions. The movie traces the parallels. One spot that amused me, I think they were too tempted by something too easy - the similarity between "sun" and "son". Yeah, cute. But in the old languages, the word for "sun" and the word for "son" are not homonyms, folks. Oops. The rest, however, is not so easily shrugged off. And yes, there's a strong case for the purpose of organized religion being power and control of the masses. (Will you recognize George Carlin's voice in there?)
The second part is about 9/11, and the case for it having been an inside job, to create a unifying enemy (now that we don't have "The Commies" any more), and an excuse for war. It will make you think.
The third part is about the federal reserve bank (it isn't at all what you thought it was), and international banking cartels, their quest for world domination, and how they've engineered the deaths of hundreds of thousands to further their own agenda. It's scary.
If you have two hours, I recommend watching it.
.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
1435 Dear Diary - Museum
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Maritime Museum today. Mailed reminders for August renewals.
Russ gave me the phone number for the guy who will take over the membership tasks, so I'll have to contact him and set up some training sessions.
.
Maritime Museum today. Mailed reminders for August renewals.
Russ gave me the phone number for the guy who will take over the membership tasks, so I'll have to contact him and set up some training sessions.
.
1434 Last Night's Missed Call
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Last night's missed call was not from The Man. By the strangest coincidence, the Mensa visitor, Jeff, to whom I had given a ride to dinner last night, is from the same city where The Man is right now. So the missed call showed as having come from that city, because that's where Jeff's cell phone is registered, and he had called to make sure I remembered to pick him up.
Major coincidence.
Even stranger, I made a decision last night and took an action based partly on that call. When I discovered this morning that my assumptions were incorrect, I wondered if my decision would have been different had I known the true caller - and then almost immediately I got the confirmation I needed via a different route.
My head is spinning. It's just too much for my mind to handle. The Fates are not simply weaving my threads - they're doing macrame!
.
Last night's missed call was not from The Man. By the strangest coincidence, the Mensa visitor, Jeff, to whom I had given a ride to dinner last night, is from the same city where The Man is right now. So the missed call showed as having come from that city, because that's where Jeff's cell phone is registered, and he had called to make sure I remembered to pick him up.
Major coincidence.
Even stranger, I made a decision last night and took an action based partly on that call. When I discovered this morning that my assumptions were incorrect, I wondered if my decision would have been different had I known the true caller - and then almost immediately I got the confirmation I needed via a different route.
My head is spinning. It's just too much for my mind to handle. The Fates are not simply weaving my threads - they're doing macrame!
.
1433 Dear Diary - Monday EEE
Monday, August 13, 2007
Eclectic Eatery Expedition this evening. We went to what used to be Umami in Fishkill, and is now a BBQ place. Eh. The BBQ was so-so, but the vegetable appetizer I had was great.
The visiting Mensan staying at Bard needed a ride to dinner, so I picked him up at 5:05, thus missing a call from The Man by mere minutes. If I had known he was going to call, I'd have blown off the entire dinner. Ah, well.
Conversation at dinner was pretty good, but, as usual, trivial. Angela, Nate, Roman, me, Jeff, and a friend of Angela's from work.
Afterward, I pretty much gave our visitor a tour of the area. We had gone down the east side of the river, and going back I had to stop at FW's in Newburgh to drop off some disks, so we returned up the west side. Enjoyed our conversation in the car.
Got home after 10. Called Daughter, called FW to tell her I had left the disks with her housemate, emailed The Man, got a response, emailed back, now bed.
.
Eclectic Eatery Expedition this evening. We went to what used to be Umami in Fishkill, and is now a BBQ place. Eh. The BBQ was so-so, but the vegetable appetizer I had was great.
The visiting Mensan staying at Bard needed a ride to dinner, so I picked him up at 5:05, thus missing a call from The Man by mere minutes. If I had known he was going to call, I'd have blown off the entire dinner. Ah, well.
Conversation at dinner was pretty good, but, as usual, trivial. Angela, Nate, Roman, me, Jeff, and a friend of Angela's from work.
Afterward, I pretty much gave our visitor a tour of the area. We had gone down the east side of the river, and going back I had to stop at FW's in Newburgh to drop off some disks, so we returned up the west side. Enjoyed our conversation in the car.
Got home after 10. Called Daughter, called FW to tell her I had left the disks with her housemate, emailed The Man, got a response, emailed back, now bed.
.
Monday, August 13, 2007
1432 Dear Diary - Dinner With Daughter
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Daughter had driven up to Highland for a friend's son's afternoon birthday party, so I drove down to Hyde Park, and she and I had dinner. Discussed her discontent with her job, and other stuff.
.
Daughter had driven up to Highland for a friend's son's afternoon birthday party, so I drove down to Hyde Park, and she and I had dinner. Discussed her discontent with her job, and other stuff.
.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
1431 Photo Essay
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Interesting photo essay at http://neithermorenorless.blogspot.com/2007/07/four-days-sober-for-jewels-and.html, about Jewels, a denizen of Tompkins Square Park. There's a further writeup at http://www.thevillager.com/villager_221/anticsoutofhand.html.
Note the policemen and the "police car" in the last few photos. The police are in civilian clothes, but I don't think there's any effort at "undercover". If so, they failed miserably. The "police car" was a much better job of disguise.
.
Interesting photo essay at http://neithermorenorless.blogspot.com/2007/07/four-days-sober-for-jewels-and.html, about Jewels, a denizen of Tompkins Square Park. There's a further writeup at http://www.thevillager.com/villager_221/anticsoutofhand.html.
Note the policemen and the "police car" in the last few photos. The police are in civilian clothes, but I don't think there's any effort at "undercover". If so, they failed miserably. The "police car" was a much better job of disguise.
.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
1430 Kitty Update / Mystery Career
Saturday, August 11, 2007
When Jasper first arrived, you couldn't pick him up at all. He fought any confining hands. I started by petting him all over, running my hands under his chest and belly. Then lifting him slightly to move him closer to food. Then lifting him completely for a second. Then lifting him to my chest while scratching his head and neck, ignoring his struggles. Then he stopped struggling, enduring patiently but not liking it. Then he seemed to sort of like it, but he didn't want me to know it.
Today he purred and relaxed while I was holding him. We're getting there. He can't meet Miss Thunderfoot until he's been to the vet, and I don't want to take him to the vet until he's comfortable with me holding him, so ... pretty soon.
----------------------------------
A friend has decided to enter a new career field. She has announced her plans in her blog, but she's being very mysterious. She'll say only that it's a 30-hour certification program at SUNY, starting in October, and that she'll have to work for someone else for a while to gain experience, then she plans to go out on her own. But she's not telling what it is because she doesn't want to hear "You can't do that!"
Anyone who knows me knows I see this as a challenge.
Hmmm. SUNY (State University of NY) online catalog. Certification courses. Thirty hours - eliminates home inspection and web design. October - eliminates some more. Something you can do "on your own" - eliminates respiration therapist and pharmaceutical assistant and a few others (unless she plans to sell drugs on street corners). One by one courses get eliminated until I'm left with Personal Trainer, and Nutritional and Wellness Consultant (which may as well be eliminated because I can't find it in the fall catalog). Both of those remaining two are ideally suited to her abilities and interests, so I can't see anyone telling her she "can't do that".
'Tis a mystery.
Guess I'll have to wait for October.
.
When Jasper first arrived, you couldn't pick him up at all. He fought any confining hands. I started by petting him all over, running my hands under his chest and belly. Then lifting him slightly to move him closer to food. Then lifting him completely for a second. Then lifting him to my chest while scratching his head and neck, ignoring his struggles. Then he stopped struggling, enduring patiently but not liking it. Then he seemed to sort of like it, but he didn't want me to know it.
Today he purred and relaxed while I was holding him. We're getting there. He can't meet Miss Thunderfoot until he's been to the vet, and I don't want to take him to the vet until he's comfortable with me holding him, so ... pretty soon.
----------------------------------
A friend has decided to enter a new career field. She has announced her plans in her blog, but she's being very mysterious. She'll say only that it's a 30-hour certification program at SUNY, starting in October, and that she'll have to work for someone else for a while to gain experience, then she plans to go out on her own. But she's not telling what it is because she doesn't want to hear "You can't do that!"
Anyone who knows me knows I see this as a challenge.
Hmmm. SUNY (State University of NY) online catalog. Certification courses. Thirty hours - eliminates home inspection and web design. October - eliminates some more. Something you can do "on your own" - eliminates respiration therapist and pharmaceutical assistant and a few others (unless she plans to sell drugs on street corners). One by one courses get eliminated until I'm left with Personal Trainer, and Nutritional and Wellness Consultant (which may as well be eliminated because I can't find it in the fall catalog). Both of those remaining two are ideally suited to her abilities and interests, so I can't see anyone telling her she "can't do that".
'Tis a mystery.
Guess I'll have to wait for October.
.
1429 Passing on Drum & Bugle
Saturday, August 11, 2007
The drum & bugle corps competition is in Kingston tonight, and although I've been looking forward to it for weeks, I've decided not to go.
A close friend is involved in a stressful and potentially emotionally devastating situation right now. It doesn't involve me, but I'm worried for my friend. I'm getting only occasional terse updates via email, so it's not like I want to sit by the phone, but still, I don't think I could enjoy the show when my constant thoughts are elsewhere. I'd feel somehow disloyal.
The fact that none of my favorite corps will be there makes the decision a little bit easier. Although I do wish it was raining.
.
The drum & bugle corps competition is in Kingston tonight, and although I've been looking forward to it for weeks, I've decided not to go.
A close friend is involved in a stressful and potentially emotionally devastating situation right now. It doesn't involve me, but I'm worried for my friend. I'm getting only occasional terse updates via email, so it's not like I want to sit by the phone, but still, I don't think I could enjoy the show when my constant thoughts are elsewhere. I'd feel somehow disloyal.
The fact that none of my favorite corps will be there makes the decision a little bit easier. Although I do wish it was raining.
.
1428 They've Figured Me Out!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Spam's getting more seductive. They've finally figured out I'm not interested in increasing the size of my penis, or seeing some teen's "private personal" videos. They've figured out that maybe I want FREE STUFF!
Spam's getting more seductive. They've finally figured out I'm not interested in increasing the size of my penis, or seeing some teen's "private personal" videos. They've figured out that maybe I want FREE STUFF!
This is really truly the subject lines of the entire contents of my Yahoo id's spam bucket today:
Back to School- Let us buy you a Dell Laptop
$5OO.OO Starbucks Gift Card – yours today!
Let Us Give You A $1000 United Airlines Gift Card
Get Your $500 Target™ Gift Card—plus lots of cool stuff!
Love Your Pet? Here Is A $1000 Visa Gift Card.
Claim Your $100 Loreal Gift Card!
Claim Your $100 Claire's Gift Card!
Want An Abercrombie, Express or Gap Gift Card?
Let Us Pay For 5 Theme Park Season Passes
The New Dell XPS Laptop Is All Yours!
Enjoy A Complimentary 4 Night Luxury Cancun Vacation!
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Enjoy A Complimentary 4 Night Luxury Cancun Vacation!
Let Us Buy You A Dell XPS M1330 Notebook!
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Get Your Disney Vacation For The Whole Family!
Let Us Give You A FREE $1,000.00 Best Buy Gift Card!
We're giving away $500 Trader Joe’s Gift Cards!
Want A FREE Family Trip To Orlando!
$1000.00 Victoria Secrets Gift Card
Shop For School With Your $1000.00 Staples (r) Gift Card.
Special Notice About Government Auction. Secrets Just For You
James Lost 30 pounds using Colonex
Claim your $500.00 Baby Supplies - FREE!
...Not sure how James and his colon got in there....
1427 Visuals
Saturday, August 11, 2007
One of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons is "Jane & The Dragon". I get it on NBC. The characters and stories are ok, no violence. What fascinates me are the technical aspects.
I love the way everything but the faces look like they were colored (expertly, and beautifully) with crayons. The bodies move so naturally they look like they could be "shopped" humans in costumes, but I'm pretty certain they're not. Like, when a character is just standing with his arms hanging, an arm will sway slightly, just like a real arm will. The faces show the tiniest nuances of emotion. (But the bodies are definitely cartoon bodies, with impossible proportions and so on.)
It's well and beautifully done, and that's what I love to watch. I watch it because I admire it.
That got me thinking about how visually oriented I am. Everyone likes to look at beautiful things of course, but I often see beauty where others don't. A pattern in the gravel on a path. A cow's eyelashes. That soft spot behind Jay's left ear. I'm not talking about the "oh, that's pretty" stuff. I'm talking about stuff that stops me, that makes me focus to the exclusion of my surroundings. Don't try to talk to me when I'm looking at a cow's eyes. The simplest things will stop me in my tracks. Like that moment in the evening, some evenings, when the sun is dropping and the very air turns golden, and the light seems to shine from under the leaves. If I'm driving, I have to pull over until it ends, because it overwhelms me.
My furniture is mostly Victorian, and my decor tends to the Victorian, too. Visually cluttered. I don't see how anyone can live in those sterile white straight-surfaced spaces shown in the magazines. I want my home to be such that no matter where my eye alights, it finds something beautiful, something visually interesting.
My greatest health fear is blindness. I've known several blind people, and they lived full lives, but still, for me, a diagnosis of impending blindness would frighten me more than an inoperable cancer. Cancer might take my life, but blindness would leave me alive with no life.
Jay was blind the last six months before he died. He didn't fully understand that he was blind, though, because his brain was still generating visual signals. He very clearly saw things, and I'd have to explain to him that what he saw was not there. He couldn't feed himself, because although I'd take his hand, "The juice is here, and the cookies are here...", what he "saw" and believed was different. The hardest was when he saw people standing next to his bed, and wanted to know who they were. He could describe them down to the tiniest detail. It was very confusing to him when I'd tell him it was all hallucination. I felt so sorry for him. Blackness would have been a blessing.
.
One of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons is "Jane & The Dragon". I get it on NBC. The characters and stories are ok, no violence. What fascinates me are the technical aspects.
I love the way everything but the faces look like they were colored (expertly, and beautifully) with crayons. The bodies move so naturally they look like they could be "shopped" humans in costumes, but I'm pretty certain they're not. Like, when a character is just standing with his arms hanging, an arm will sway slightly, just like a real arm will. The faces show the tiniest nuances of emotion. (But the bodies are definitely cartoon bodies, with impossible proportions and so on.)
It's well and beautifully done, and that's what I love to watch. I watch it because I admire it.
That got me thinking about how visually oriented I am. Everyone likes to look at beautiful things of course, but I often see beauty where others don't. A pattern in the gravel on a path. A cow's eyelashes. That soft spot behind Jay's left ear. I'm not talking about the "oh, that's pretty" stuff. I'm talking about stuff that stops me, that makes me focus to the exclusion of my surroundings. Don't try to talk to me when I'm looking at a cow's eyes. The simplest things will stop me in my tracks. Like that moment in the evening, some evenings, when the sun is dropping and the very air turns golden, and the light seems to shine from under the leaves. If I'm driving, I have to pull over until it ends, because it overwhelms me.
My furniture is mostly Victorian, and my decor tends to the Victorian, too. Visually cluttered. I don't see how anyone can live in those sterile white straight-surfaced spaces shown in the magazines. I want my home to be such that no matter where my eye alights, it finds something beautiful, something visually interesting.
My greatest health fear is blindness. I've known several blind people, and they lived full lives, but still, for me, a diagnosis of impending blindness would frighten me more than an inoperable cancer. Cancer might take my life, but blindness would leave me alive with no life.
Jay was blind the last six months before he died. He didn't fully understand that he was blind, though, because his brain was still generating visual signals. He very clearly saw things, and I'd have to explain to him that what he saw was not there. He couldn't feed himself, because although I'd take his hand, "The juice is here, and the cookies are here...", what he "saw" and believed was different. The hardest was when he saw people standing next to his bed, and wanted to know who they were. He could describe them down to the tiniest detail. It was very confusing to him when I'd tell him it was all hallucination. I felt so sorry for him. Blackness would have been a blessing.
.
Friday, August 10, 2007
1425 Losing Parents
Friday, August 10, 2007
I have two very close friends who are worried about losing their parents. We're at that age, so they're at that age. Roman lost both his parents within four days of each other last January.
People assume that I would understand their feelings, because both of my parents are gone. I've been through it.
Actually, maybe I don't understand fully. I didn't have the relationship with my parents that most people have.
When my father died, thirty years ago, the "on top" reaction was merely relief. I wouldn't have to be afraid of him any more, and I wouldn't have to worry about my younger siblings any more. (Which actually was wrong, because the damage done lingered for decades.) I thought we were all finally released.
That was on top, the rational part. Deep down was different.
I never saw him dead, so deep in the dark places I didn't believe he was dead. Daughter was very sick and in the hospital when he died, so I wasn't able to go to the funeral (which was moot anyway, since no one told me he had died until a week later. I don't know why).
Deep in the dark places in my mind, I was convinced that people were just telling me he was dead that so I wouldn't try to kill him. That he was hiding, and would come after me or Little Brother as soon as I got comfortable. I had nightmares for over a year in which I was hiding Little Brother from him, and he kept finding him and beating him. I'd wake up screaming and shaking. During the day, any unexpected movement glimpsed from the corner of my eye would have me shaking. It took a few years before the dark places relaxed.
My mother died seventeen years ago. I was holding her hand when she died. At first, for maybe two days, I felt like an orphan. Like my safety and support were gone, and I was alone. And then that dissipated, and I felt nothing. It took another five years for me to realize that I felt nothing not because of depression, but because there was simply nothing to feel.
She was never our safety and support. She made no effort to protect us (other than shouting "Not the head! Not the head!" when we were being beaten). She never gave us any advice or guidance. No praise or encouragement. She pretty much ignored us. We kids grew up competing for our mother's attention, and learning to deflect our father's anger away from ourselves and onto each other, which doesn't lead to good sibling relations. Our mother was really nothing more to us than the quartermaster, the person we went to for necessities.
We wanted to love our parents, we tried very hard, we wanted them to love us, we tried very hard, we convinced ourselves there was some connection, but it in actual fact, it just wasn't there. If my parents had been rich, we kids would probably have been in year-round boarding school from the age of five. That might have been better.
So, no, I probably don't fully understand how my friends feel when they lose their parents, certainly not the depth and breadth.
I wish I did.
.
I have two very close friends who are worried about losing their parents. We're at that age, so they're at that age. Roman lost both his parents within four days of each other last January.
People assume that I would understand their feelings, because both of my parents are gone. I've been through it.
Actually, maybe I don't understand fully. I didn't have the relationship with my parents that most people have.
When my father died, thirty years ago, the "on top" reaction was merely relief. I wouldn't have to be afraid of him any more, and I wouldn't have to worry about my younger siblings any more. (Which actually was wrong, because the damage done lingered for decades.) I thought we were all finally released.
That was on top, the rational part. Deep down was different.
I never saw him dead, so deep in the dark places I didn't believe he was dead. Daughter was very sick and in the hospital when he died, so I wasn't able to go to the funeral (which was moot anyway, since no one told me he had died until a week later. I don't know why).
Deep in the dark places in my mind, I was convinced that people were just telling me he was dead that so I wouldn't try to kill him. That he was hiding, and would come after me or Little Brother as soon as I got comfortable. I had nightmares for over a year in which I was hiding Little Brother from him, and he kept finding him and beating him. I'd wake up screaming and shaking. During the day, any unexpected movement glimpsed from the corner of my eye would have me shaking. It took a few years before the dark places relaxed.
My mother died seventeen years ago. I was holding her hand when she died. At first, for maybe two days, I felt like an orphan. Like my safety and support were gone, and I was alone. And then that dissipated, and I felt nothing. It took another five years for me to realize that I felt nothing not because of depression, but because there was simply nothing to feel.
She was never our safety and support. She made no effort to protect us (other than shouting "Not the head! Not the head!" when we were being beaten). She never gave us any advice or guidance. No praise or encouragement. She pretty much ignored us. We kids grew up competing for our mother's attention, and learning to deflect our father's anger away from ourselves and onto each other, which doesn't lead to good sibling relations. Our mother was really nothing more to us than the quartermaster, the person we went to for necessities.
We wanted to love our parents, we tried very hard, we wanted them to love us, we tried very hard, we convinced ourselves there was some connection, but it in actual fact, it just wasn't there. If my parents had been rich, we kids would probably have been in year-round boarding school from the age of five. That might have been better.
So, no, I probably don't fully understand how my friends feel when they lose their parents, certainly not the depth and breadth.
I wish I did.
.
1424 Reading Writing 2
Friday, August 10, 2007
It's Friday, and time for the reveal. The Queen must be psychic, because there's no other way she could have got it. Yup, it's "Woods".
.
It's Friday, and time for the reveal. The Queen must be psychic, because there's no other way she could have got it. Yup, it's "Woods".
.
1423 Repeats
Repeating some old entries:
A map showing the spread of the world's major religions, by major portion of the population over the past 5,000 years, is at http://www.mapsofwar.com/. Fascinating! I didn't realize that Hinduism is that old, but I guess if I'd thought about it, I'd have figured it out.
Scroll down a bit and you'll find the link to "Imperial History", which illustrates the spread of political control. I'd never even heard of the Sassanid Empire, but it was apparently significant.
For more fascinating explorations, click on "Maps" on the left. Good stuff.
-----------------------------------
The 2000 Daily notebook has reminded me of how strange Jay was in 2000. I had forgotten.
In May 2000, he decided to cut back the raspberries spreading into the yard from the woods. I happened to glance outside and found that he was cutting everything, including good shrubs, young trees, flowers, everything. Like his mind said "Cut", and the governor was off.
Along about July he started changing lightbulbs. If you didn't keep him occupied with other stuff, if he got to loose ends, he'd start changing light bulbs. When we went to the store, he'd insist on buying more light bulbs. The bulbs weren't burned out - I'd retrieve them from the garbage - it's just like he'd forget to flip the light switch, decide the bulb was out, and replace it. That explains why I now have a few hundred light bulbs in the pantry. Funny how I'd forgotten that.
We used to go to garage sales on weekends. I'd drive and he'd navigate. Along about August he lost the ability to read maps. He could find streets on the map and trace the route to get there, but he couldn't apply it to the roads we were on. We'd come up to a "Y", and I'd ask "Which way?", and he couldn't figure it out. About this same time he could no longer read a calendar, or do the binary search required to find a word in the dictionary. And no matter where we went, even just up the road to the deli, he thought we had crossed the river.
In September, he lost doors and drawers. If they were closed, they became solid walls to him. He didn't know how to get to the other side of them, or in some cases, that there even was anything on the other side. If you opened them for him, he'd leave them open, even the shower stall door. He couldn't figure out how to keep the water in the shower stall.
In late September, he sometimes got lost in the house. If he was tired, he couldn't find the bedroom from the dining room. We didn't dare close bathroom doors.
It was in October that he woke me in the middle of the night to tell me that there was someone else in bed with us. I asked who, where, and he pointed to his left arm and whispered "There. That's his arm." He didn't recognize his left arm. He could move it, use the hand to pick things up, but didn't recognize it, which was very confusing to him. He kept hitting it, like he wanted it to go away.
By November he could no longer dress himself. He would dress his right side, but neglect the left, and of course his clothing wouldn't stay on, and he couldn't figure out why not. He looked so cute coming out to the kitchen for breakfast with his robe on his right side, the belt tied neatly around his waist, but the left side completely naked, and the left half of the robe dragging on the floor behind him. By December, however, he couldn't remember how to tie a knot, so the robe wouldn't stay on at all.
And yet, some parts of his mind were as sharp as ever. It was during this time that he completed work on the invention application (the one that was finally granted last fall), and his old workmates still depended on him for telephone consultation on highly technical matters.
Some things were lost, well, more like hidden, since his logical powers didn't work in the hidden areas, but what hadn't been lost was as good as ever.
.
A map showing the spread of the world's major religions, by major portion of the population over the past 5,000 years, is at http://www.mapsofwar.com/. Fascinating! I didn't realize that Hinduism is that old, but I guess if I'd thought about it, I'd have figured it out.
Scroll down a bit and you'll find the link to "Imperial History", which illustrates the spread of political control. I'd never even heard of the Sassanid Empire, but it was apparently significant.
For more fascinating explorations, click on "Maps" on the left. Good stuff.
-----------------------------------
The 2000 Daily notebook has reminded me of how strange Jay was in 2000. I had forgotten.
In May 2000, he decided to cut back the raspberries spreading into the yard from the woods. I happened to glance outside and found that he was cutting everything, including good shrubs, young trees, flowers, everything. Like his mind said "Cut", and the governor was off.
Along about July he started changing lightbulbs. If you didn't keep him occupied with other stuff, if he got to loose ends, he'd start changing light bulbs. When we went to the store, he'd insist on buying more light bulbs. The bulbs weren't burned out - I'd retrieve them from the garbage - it's just like he'd forget to flip the light switch, decide the bulb was out, and replace it. That explains why I now have a few hundred light bulbs in the pantry. Funny how I'd forgotten that.
We used to go to garage sales on weekends. I'd drive and he'd navigate. Along about August he lost the ability to read maps. He could find streets on the map and trace the route to get there, but he couldn't apply it to the roads we were on. We'd come up to a "Y", and I'd ask "Which way?", and he couldn't figure it out. About this same time he could no longer read a calendar, or do the binary search required to find a word in the dictionary. And no matter where we went, even just up the road to the deli, he thought we had crossed the river.
In September, he lost doors and drawers. If they were closed, they became solid walls to him. He didn't know how to get to the other side of them, or in some cases, that there even was anything on the other side. If you opened them for him, he'd leave them open, even the shower stall door. He couldn't figure out how to keep the water in the shower stall.
In late September, he sometimes got lost in the house. If he was tired, he couldn't find the bedroom from the dining room. We didn't dare close bathroom doors.
It was in October that he woke me in the middle of the night to tell me that there was someone else in bed with us. I asked who, where, and he pointed to his left arm and whispered "There. That's his arm." He didn't recognize his left arm. He could move it, use the hand to pick things up, but didn't recognize it, which was very confusing to him. He kept hitting it, like he wanted it to go away.
By November he could no longer dress himself. He would dress his right side, but neglect the left, and of course his clothing wouldn't stay on, and he couldn't figure out why not. He looked so cute coming out to the kitchen for breakfast with his robe on his right side, the belt tied neatly around his waist, but the left side completely naked, and the left half of the robe dragging on the floor behind him. By December, however, he couldn't remember how to tie a knot, so the robe wouldn't stay on at all.
And yet, some parts of his mind were as sharp as ever. It was during this time that he completed work on the invention application (the one that was finally granted last fall), and his old workmates still depended on him for telephone consultation on highly technical matters.
Some things were lost, well, more like hidden, since his logical powers didn't work in the hidden areas, but what hadn't been lost was as good as ever.
.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
1422 Drive Me Crazy?
Thursday, August 9, 2007
I was just talking on the phone with Daughter. Re The Man, she said "You must be walking on air", and I said sort of. I admire him. I enjoy him. I even adore him. I have loved every minute I've spent with him. I'm very happy that he appreciates me, too. But in a lot of ways, he comes across as a married man who's cheating. That's one of the few things I'm sure of, that he's not married, but I still feel like he's hiding something. Mainly me. After Roman, this bothers me. With time, maybe I'll find out what's going on, but in the meantime, I don't feel that he fully trusts me, and so I can't fully trust him, and since my natural tendency is to trust, I have to keep reminding myself to hold back. I'm hoping this will just take time.
On Piper, I was saying that I like him, he's always so happy and so much fun, and so perceptive, I love talking with him, but there's no way anything further could ever be, because he'd quickly drive me crazy. But I had difficulty describing why he would drive me crazy, and Daughter said "He sounds like a perpetual puppy." That's IT! Perfect description.
.
I was just talking on the phone with Daughter. Re The Man, she said "You must be walking on air", and I said sort of. I admire him. I enjoy him. I even adore him. I have loved every minute I've spent with him. I'm very happy that he appreciates me, too. But in a lot of ways, he comes across as a married man who's cheating. That's one of the few things I'm sure of, that he's not married, but I still feel like he's hiding something. Mainly me. After Roman, this bothers me. With time, maybe I'll find out what's going on, but in the meantime, I don't feel that he fully trusts me, and so I can't fully trust him, and since my natural tendency is to trust, I have to keep reminding myself to hold back. I'm hoping this will just take time.
On Piper, I was saying that I like him, he's always so happy and so much fun, and so perceptive, I love talking with him, but there's no way anything further could ever be, because he'd quickly drive me crazy. But I had difficulty describing why he would drive me crazy, and Daughter said "He sounds like a perpetual puppy." That's IT! Perfect description.
.
1421 Sitting With Men
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Yesterday I had dinner with The Man, and we went to a karaoke bar.
I went to meet him with some trepidation, to tell the truth. He was supposed to leave on a trip yesterday, but he delayed leaving and asked me on Tuesday to meet him halfway (which would be about Newburgh) on Wednesday evening. We'd have a few hours together, then he'd be going home so he could head out this morning. He said he wanted to see me before leaving on what could be a stressful trip.
I guess I'm not very confident. He won't end our relationship (whatever it is, I'm not sure yet) by phone, email, or ignoring. He'd end it in person. So, since he wasn't planning to stay over, and he'd be driving three hours to spend less than 4 hours with me, I figured well, this must be it.
I guess I was wrong. He was open, affectionate, and attentive. I guess he just wanted a few smiles and strokes before going out to battle. I wished I had a long silk scarf to tie on his helmet.
Today I set out for the museum. I stopped at The Hairless Hunk's to pay for the past several mowings and got into an extended conversation with him, then went to the post office, and the grocery store (more cat food), and the bank, and then noticed that Piper's car was outside his office. He had been to Florida to visit his mother, so I decided to stop in and find out how she is.
His office door was locked, but the lights were on. That means he's at the cafe up the street or in the bar/bistro across the street.
I found him in the bar. Soused. He'd been doing shots. As usual, there were several guys there, his "buddies" (he knows everyone). He was very happy. And soused enough to be a bit overly affectionate toward me. I know he toys with the occasional thought of "us", but he knows I'm not encouraging him. He's already got a lady (which I remind him), and he'd quickly drive me crazy (which I don't tell him).
I decided to stay a while. He has to drive to Rockland for dinner, a retirement party for an old friend, and he needed sobering up, and his buddies weren't going to help with that. When I said "You're drunk!" he said he wasn't going to have any more, but while I was there, the buddies bought him three more shots. I got pretty thoroughly hugged and cheek-kissed, and over the next two hours he sang just about every Sinatra song to me. While holding my hand. His trip to Florida didn't go very well, and I tried to lure him back to his office with me and tell me about it, but he didn't want to leave.
Sigh.
When it was time for him to go to Rockland, he left. I offered to go with him, designated driver, etc., but he kept saying he was fine. Nothing else I could do about it short of calling the cops. Maybe I should have.
He's a terrible driver even sober, the concept of lanes is theoretical to him, he's easily distracted by thoughts and bright objects, but on the other hand he's never had an accident, so it's hard to argue with him.
I never made it to the museum.
.
Yesterday I had dinner with The Man, and we went to a karaoke bar.
I went to meet him with some trepidation, to tell the truth. He was supposed to leave on a trip yesterday, but he delayed leaving and asked me on Tuesday to meet him halfway (which would be about Newburgh) on Wednesday evening. We'd have a few hours together, then he'd be going home so he could head out this morning. He said he wanted to see me before leaving on what could be a stressful trip.
I guess I'm not very confident. He won't end our relationship (whatever it is, I'm not sure yet) by phone, email, or ignoring. He'd end it in person. So, since he wasn't planning to stay over, and he'd be driving three hours to spend less than 4 hours with me, I figured well, this must be it.
I guess I was wrong. He was open, affectionate, and attentive. I guess he just wanted a few smiles and strokes before going out to battle. I wished I had a long silk scarf to tie on his helmet.
Today I set out for the museum. I stopped at The Hairless Hunk's to pay for the past several mowings and got into an extended conversation with him, then went to the post office, and the grocery store (more cat food), and the bank, and then noticed that Piper's car was outside his office. He had been to Florida to visit his mother, so I decided to stop in and find out how she is.
His office door was locked, but the lights were on. That means he's at the cafe up the street or in the bar/bistro across the street.
I found him in the bar. Soused. He'd been doing shots. As usual, there were several guys there, his "buddies" (he knows everyone). He was very happy. And soused enough to be a bit overly affectionate toward me. I know he toys with the occasional thought of "us", but he knows I'm not encouraging him. He's already got a lady (which I remind him), and he'd quickly drive me crazy (which I don't tell him).
I decided to stay a while. He has to drive to Rockland for dinner, a retirement party for an old friend, and he needed sobering up, and his buddies weren't going to help with that. When I said "You're drunk!" he said he wasn't going to have any more, but while I was there, the buddies bought him three more shots. I got pretty thoroughly hugged and cheek-kissed, and over the next two hours he sang just about every Sinatra song to me. While holding my hand. His trip to Florida didn't go very well, and I tried to lure him back to his office with me and tell me about it, but he didn't want to leave.
Sigh.
When it was time for him to go to Rockland, he left. I offered to go with him, designated driver, etc., but he kept saying he was fine. Nothing else I could do about it short of calling the cops. Maybe I should have.
He's a terrible driver even sober, the concept of lanes is theoretical to him, he's easily distracted by thoughts and bright objects, but on the other hand he's never had an accident, so it's hard to argue with him.
I never made it to the museum.
.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
1420 Toilet Seat Ad
Whoa! You've GOT to see this ad for a toilet seat.
http://www.cleanishappy.com/
Incidentally, it's interesting the difference between obviously male and obviously female rears. But "fashion" would seem to dictate that females should be so thin that their behinds look male. Fashion also dictates that males should look and smell female (all this shaving of body hair, yuck! Why would a man shave his chest? I don't understand.)
Maybe my mother was right forty years ago, when painful pointy shoes came out, and she said that the goal of the fashionistas was to undermine sexual signals.
The behinds in this ad look normal, real, they way they should (except I do like my male bottoms a bit furrier).
.
http://www.cleanishappy.com/
Incidentally, it's interesting the difference between obviously male and obviously female rears. But "fashion" would seem to dictate that females should be so thin that their behinds look male. Fashion also dictates that males should look and smell female (all this shaving of body hair, yuck! Why would a man shave his chest? I don't understand.)
Maybe my mother was right forty years ago, when painful pointy shoes came out, and she said that the goal of the fashionistas was to undermine sexual signals.
The behinds in this ad look normal, real, they way they should (except I do like my male bottoms a bit furrier).
.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
1418 Reading Writing
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
I went to the museum today, to finish processing the July membership renewals and new members. The renewals go fairly quickly, because the members are replying using a form we sent them, with their names and addresses pre-printed on them, and a data base record already exists for them. New members are harder, because I have to create a record from their handwritten form.
I tear my hair out over some of those forms. Don't these people know that someone has to READ these things? For example, what's this person's last name? Take a guess in the comments. I'll tell you on Friday.
I went to the museum today, to finish processing the July membership renewals and new members. The renewals go fairly quickly, because the members are replying using a form we sent them, with their names and addresses pre-printed on them, and a data base record already exists for them. New members are harder, because I have to create a record from their handwritten form.
I tear my hair out over some of those forms. Don't these people know that someone has to READ these things? For example, what's this person's last name? Take a guess in the comments. I'll tell you on Friday.
Monday, August 06, 2007
1416 Museum / Kitty Update
Monday, August 6, 2007
I went to the museum this afternoon, processed some membership checks. Russ says they have a new guy, a 70-year-old retiree, on staff, and wondered if I'd like to offload some of the membership responsibilities on him. I jumped at it! I told Russ that because it requires responsibility and deadlines, this job really should be done by a paid staff member, not a volunteer. A volunteer like me is likely to do what they can when they can, without too much regard for the calendar. Staff will follow a schedule.
(Well, I suppose there are some volunteers who will sacrifice their lives for the museum's needs, but, hey, I'm not one of them.)
I did some grocery shopping on the way home - those vegetables, you know. When I opened the laundry room door to take some frozen stuff to the freezer, I was immediately hit by the smell!
After a week of wondering if Jasper was constipated, or going somewhere and hiding it, and worrying if he was about to burst, today I got to clean his litter box. I danced around and told him what a good boy he was.
Last night, after sniffing the Thunder piddle and Thunder poopy samples I had put in the litter box, he finally made the connection, dug a hole in the litter, squatted over it, and piddled for what seemed like forever. Afterward, he was a bit skittish, like he thought maybe I'd scold him for it. I had hoped I'd see something more substantial this morning, but there was only another wet spot.
He pooped this afternoon sometime, while I was out. He'd made a valiant attempt to bury it - almost every bit of litter was piled in that one corner. It wasn't a full week's worth, but at least I'm sure he's not bound up.
Lack of exercise is probably a contributing factor. He's used to running a lot. But we both feel a lot better now, I'm sure.
.
I went to the museum this afternoon, processed some membership checks. Russ says they have a new guy, a 70-year-old retiree, on staff, and wondered if I'd like to offload some of the membership responsibilities on him. I jumped at it! I told Russ that because it requires responsibility and deadlines, this job really should be done by a paid staff member, not a volunteer. A volunteer like me is likely to do what they can when they can, without too much regard for the calendar. Staff will follow a schedule.
(Well, I suppose there are some volunteers who will sacrifice their lives for the museum's needs, but, hey, I'm not one of them.)
I did some grocery shopping on the way home - those vegetables, you know. When I opened the laundry room door to take some frozen stuff to the freezer, I was immediately hit by the smell!
We have poopy!
After a week of wondering if Jasper was constipated, or going somewhere and hiding it, and worrying if he was about to burst, today I got to clean his litter box. I danced around and told him what a good boy he was.
Last night, after sniffing the Thunder piddle and Thunder poopy samples I had put in the litter box, he finally made the connection, dug a hole in the litter, squatted over it, and piddled for what seemed like forever. Afterward, he was a bit skittish, like he thought maybe I'd scold him for it. I had hoped I'd see something more substantial this morning, but there was only another wet spot.
He pooped this afternoon sometime, while I was out. He'd made a valiant attempt to bury it - almost every bit of litter was piled in that one corner. It wasn't a full week's worth, but at least I'm sure he's not bound up.
Lack of exercise is probably a contributing factor. He's used to running a lot. But we both feel a lot better now, I'm sure.
.
1415 One Third
Monday, August 6, 2007
I figure I've got twenty years or so left, probably fifteen of which will be fairly active. Looking back, that seems like a long time. 1987 seems like a long time ago. There's been a lot packed into that time. But looking forward, it doesn't seem like that long at all. The past seven years have slipped past with hardly any notice. They feel lost.
That's a third of what's left.
I still look halfway decent, if I get enough sleep, and sit and stand straight, and wear makeup, and keep my hair clean, and hold my belly in, and don't put any weight back on. But I don't anymore accidentally see me in a store window and think "she looks good" before I realize it's me. That used to happen all the time. Now I look in a mirror and think "pretty ok", and I look at a photograph and cringe.
I'm still in relatively good health, as long as I don't go to a doctor and get a diagnosis that'll make me think I'm about to die. I can still walk for miles and miles. I can do 30 pushups, the military style. I should eat more vegetables, and stop smoking, and avoid sugar, I suppose. And I need to get back to walking.
Clerks still hesitate to ask me if I qualify for the senior discount. Teens are amazed when they hear my age. They say I look, oh, maybe early 50s, and "that's only because of the hair". Of course, to them, early 50s is ancient. It's their grandmother's age. And I have a pretty good idea of what their grandmother looks and acts like.
I woke up this morning thinking about housework, and I realized that I don't want to spend one third of the time I have left cleaning house. And one third sleeping. And one third waiting.
I want to whirl through the space and time left. I want to go places, and see things. I want to love and be loved.
I want and need someone to care for. I'm very good at loving and caring. I can make someone feel strong and capable and worthy and alive. I can make a man feel whole, and appreciated.
I want to be loved back, every day.
I'm at an age now where if I don't use every part of my body, it will dry up and blow away. All the parts still work, and some of the most fun parts require male attention to stay in shape. I want everything to continue working.
I don't want to spend a third of my life waiting for something to happen.
.
I figure I've got twenty years or so left, probably fifteen of which will be fairly active. Looking back, that seems like a long time. 1987 seems like a long time ago. There's been a lot packed into that time. But looking forward, it doesn't seem like that long at all. The past seven years have slipped past with hardly any notice. They feel lost.
That's a third of what's left.
I still look halfway decent, if I get enough sleep, and sit and stand straight, and wear makeup, and keep my hair clean, and hold my belly in, and don't put any weight back on. But I don't anymore accidentally see me in a store window and think "she looks good" before I realize it's me. That used to happen all the time. Now I look in a mirror and think "pretty ok", and I look at a photograph and cringe.
I'm still in relatively good health, as long as I don't go to a doctor and get a diagnosis that'll make me think I'm about to die. I can still walk for miles and miles. I can do 30 pushups, the military style. I should eat more vegetables, and stop smoking, and avoid sugar, I suppose. And I need to get back to walking.
Clerks still hesitate to ask me if I qualify for the senior discount. Teens are amazed when they hear my age. They say I look, oh, maybe early 50s, and "that's only because of the hair". Of course, to them, early 50s is ancient. It's their grandmother's age. And I have a pretty good idea of what their grandmother looks and acts like.
I woke up this morning thinking about housework, and I realized that I don't want to spend one third of the time I have left cleaning house. And one third sleeping. And one third waiting.
I want to whirl through the space and time left. I want to go places, and see things. I want to love and be loved.
I want and need someone to care for. I'm very good at loving and caring. I can make someone feel strong and capable and worthy and alive. I can make a man feel whole, and appreciated.
I want to be loved back, every day.
I'm at an age now where if I don't use every part of my body, it will dry up and blow away. All the parts still work, and some of the most fun parts require male attention to stay in shape. I want everything to continue working.
I don't want to spend a third of my life waiting for something to happen.
.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
1414 Kitty Update
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Jasper and I are getting along well. While he was out from behind the washing machine last night, I slid a storm window panel between the utility sink and the washing machine, so he can't get back there any more.
He has chosen a replacement spot on a bottom shelf. There's a cooler and a stack of towels on the floor in front of that spot, so he feels safe.
When I walk in the room now, he comes right out. Loves getting head and neck scratches, rolls around on the floor waving his paws in the air. He's very gentle when we play fight. I've noticed that he "kneads" a lot, even when he's just sitting and waiting.
I've been getting him used to being picked up. Just little lifts, moving him from one spot to a more desirable spot, like closer to the food, for example.
He's still eating like every kibble is his last, but he's still ignoring the litter box. I haven't the faintest idea where he's "going". There's no odor. It's possible he's constipated, but his belly's not hard, and --- he's still eating.
I started out with that white stuff in the litter pan, but I thought maybe the bits were too sharp for his paws, so I switched to Miss Thunderfoot's usual pine sawdust pellets. Then I added some "samples" from Miss Thunderfoot's litter box. He was very interested in sniffing them, but didn't seem to take the hint.
I'm afraid I may have to go outside and cut a piece of sod for him! I wonder if he prefers grass, dirt, or mulch.
.
Jasper and I are getting along well. While he was out from behind the washing machine last night, I slid a storm window panel between the utility sink and the washing machine, so he can't get back there any more.
He has chosen a replacement spot on a bottom shelf. There's a cooler and a stack of towels on the floor in front of that spot, so he feels safe.
When I walk in the room now, he comes right out. Loves getting head and neck scratches, rolls around on the floor waving his paws in the air. He's very gentle when we play fight. I've noticed that he "kneads" a lot, even when he's just sitting and waiting.
I've been getting him used to being picked up. Just little lifts, moving him from one spot to a more desirable spot, like closer to the food, for example.
He's still eating like every kibble is his last, but he's still ignoring the litter box. I haven't the faintest idea where he's "going". There's no odor. It's possible he's constipated, but his belly's not hard, and --- he's still eating.
I started out with that white stuff in the litter pan, but I thought maybe the bits were too sharp for his paws, so I switched to Miss Thunderfoot's usual pine sawdust pellets. Then I added some "samples" from Miss Thunderfoot's litter box. He was very interested in sniffing them, but didn't seem to take the hint.
I'm afraid I may have to go outside and cut a piece of sod for him! I wonder if he prefers grass, dirt, or mulch.
.
1413 Good News, I Hope
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Got an email from Sister this afternoon.
Our youngest brother has been "lost" for years. We didn't know where he was, even whether he was alive or dead. When last seen, he wasn't healthy, living was precarious.
Sister (in Florida) says she was in a bar with a group of people and a man came over and asked if a stool was taken. It was. She thought he looked familiar, so later she went over to him and introduced herself. It was Youngest Brother. He hadn't recognized her, which is interesting because she has changed very little.
I gather it was an emotional reunion. He said he's got control of his life now, a car, a job. Sister says he's supposed to visit her home this evening.
I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm happy that he seems to be back on track. On the other hand, deep down in the protective part, I'm thinking I don't want to find him and lose him all over again. I don't know how to react to him. Sometimes letting go is easier than holding on.
He was born when I was 15. Mom had a lot of difficulty with the birth, and he came home from the hospital several months before she did. Even after she came home, she was unable to care for him, so through his infancy and much of his toddlerhood, he was essentially my baby.
It was the effort to protect him that had me twice planning to kill my father.
It was realizing that I would go to those lengths to protect him, but our mother made no effort to protect us, that lead to my breakthrough.
And then he grew up, and things happened, choices were made, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't protect or help him any more.
Sometimes letting go is easier than holding on.
.
Got an email from Sister this afternoon.
Our youngest brother has been "lost" for years. We didn't know where he was, even whether he was alive or dead. When last seen, he wasn't healthy, living was precarious.
Sister (in Florida) says she was in a bar with a group of people and a man came over and asked if a stool was taken. It was. She thought he looked familiar, so later she went over to him and introduced herself. It was Youngest Brother. He hadn't recognized her, which is interesting because she has changed very little.
I gather it was an emotional reunion. He said he's got control of his life now, a car, a job. Sister says he's supposed to visit her home this evening.
I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm happy that he seems to be back on track. On the other hand, deep down in the protective part, I'm thinking I don't want to find him and lose him all over again. I don't know how to react to him. Sometimes letting go is easier than holding on.
He was born when I was 15. Mom had a lot of difficulty with the birth, and he came home from the hospital several months before she did. Even after she came home, she was unable to care for him, so through his infancy and much of his toddlerhood, he was essentially my baby.
It was the effort to protect him that had me twice planning to kill my father.
It was realizing that I would go to those lengths to protect him, but our mother made no effort to protect us, that lead to my breakthrough.
And then he grew up, and things happened, choices were made, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't protect or help him any more.
Sometimes letting go is easier than holding on.
.
1412 New House
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Nice of you to have found your way here. Welcome to my new home.
I moved without leaving a forwarding address, but I am fully aware I haven't hidden completely. A determined searcher will still find me, but not for a while, and I would hope that the effort wouldn't be worth it.
Don't forget to change your Bloglines subscription, if you have one.
.
Nice of you to have found your way here. Welcome to my new home.
I moved without leaving a forwarding address, but I am fully aware I haven't hidden completely. A determined searcher will still find me, but not for a while, and I would hope that the effort wouldn't be worth it.
Don't forget to change your Bloglines subscription, if you have one.
.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
1411 Recycle Rant
Saturday, August 4, 2007
My internet connection is now cellular (wireless) broadband. When I connect, it casts around to find a "path". I can see where I'm connected through, on SiteMeter.com. I am amused that sometimes I'm "in" Colorado, or Indiana, or Pennsylvania. Today I was surprised to find that I'm connected through the District of Columbia, specifically the Washington Navy Yard. Wow. That surprises me.
-------------------------------
I took a load of stuff to the recycle center today. There are usually two paid workers there, and maybe one or two volunteers. It was very hot today, so they were all hiding out in the shed, in front of a fan.
Man, if I volunteered there, within hours I'd be thoroughly disgusted with people in general. It would be very bad for me.
I can't believe people dump cans and bottles in the bin without so much as rinsing them out. How can they do that? The smell? The way dirty cans attract wasps? Have they no pride? Is it really so hard to rinse?
That's bad, but worse are the people who dump stuff they should KNOW is not accepted. The center is constantly handing out lists of what is and is not accepted, and which bins get what, and I swear nobody (except a few like me) reads or pays attention to them.
One quick glance at the top layer of any of the three sorting bins finds what looks like a 30% mix of not-acceptable or not-this-bin items. Manila envelopes with bubble-wrap lining are not accepted at all, and yet the newspaper-only bin was speckled with them today, and the distribution, all through the bin, suggests that it wasn't only one person who screwed up.
They accept ONLY #1 and #2 clearly-marked plastic, so could someone explain to me why the plastic/glass/metal bin is full of plastic bags?
I get so angry at idiots.
Garbage collection around here is very expensive, and I think a lot of people see the recycle center as free garbage disposal. What they don't seem to understand is that the more trash they throw in there, the more they put in the wrong bin, the more expensive it is to sort, and eventually it will tip to too costly, and will be no more. THEN what will they do with it? Fully 2/3 of my waste every month is recyclable. I don't want to pay to have it hauled away and dumped in a landfill. But these idiots will make that happen.
-----------------------------------
Grrr. I was already in that bad mood when I read a comment in the local Mensa Yahoo group, regarding the lack of a local directory, that REALLY jerked my chain. I snapped back. A certain person seems to think he has all the answers and conveniently ignores what he doesn't like, and everyone else ignores his "I'm the source of all wisdom" attitude (except in conversation when he's not around) because he's also one of the most active and social people, which IS appreciated, and they don't want to lose him. What they don't realize is that since no one wants to go head-to-head with him and lets him have his way, NOBODY ELSE WANTS TO DO ANYTHING! They don't want to have to deal with him. He's the chief cause of the apathy in the group, and that's not just my opinion.
I didn't want to touch off the powder keg but I may have. He went a little too far this time, and this time he stepped on MY toes. He's ON the Board, but he often seems to think he IS the Board.
Oh, well. It needed saying. I'll crawl back into my apathetic but very comfortable shell now.
Grrrr.
.
My internet connection is now cellular (wireless) broadband. When I connect, it casts around to find a "path". I can see where I'm connected through, on SiteMeter.com. I am amused that sometimes I'm "in" Colorado, or Indiana, or Pennsylvania. Today I was surprised to find that I'm connected through the District of Columbia, specifically the Washington Navy Yard. Wow. That surprises me.
-------------------------------
I took a load of stuff to the recycle center today. There are usually two paid workers there, and maybe one or two volunteers. It was very hot today, so they were all hiding out in the shed, in front of a fan.
Man, if I volunteered there, within hours I'd be thoroughly disgusted with people in general. It would be very bad for me.
I can't believe people dump cans and bottles in the bin without so much as rinsing them out. How can they do that? The smell? The way dirty cans attract wasps? Have they no pride? Is it really so hard to rinse?
That's bad, but worse are the people who dump stuff they should KNOW is not accepted. The center is constantly handing out lists of what is and is not accepted, and which bins get what, and I swear nobody (except a few like me) reads or pays attention to them.
One quick glance at the top layer of any of the three sorting bins finds what looks like a 30% mix of not-acceptable or not-this-bin items. Manila envelopes with bubble-wrap lining are not accepted at all, and yet the newspaper-only bin was speckled with them today, and the distribution, all through the bin, suggests that it wasn't only one person who screwed up.
They accept ONLY #1 and #2 clearly-marked plastic, so could someone explain to me why the plastic/glass/metal bin is full of plastic bags?
I get so angry at idiots.
Garbage collection around here is very expensive, and I think a lot of people see the recycle center as free garbage disposal. What they don't seem to understand is that the more trash they throw in there, the more they put in the wrong bin, the more expensive it is to sort, and eventually it will tip to too costly, and will be no more. THEN what will they do with it? Fully 2/3 of my waste every month is recyclable. I don't want to pay to have it hauled away and dumped in a landfill. But these idiots will make that happen.
-----------------------------------
Grrr. I was already in that bad mood when I read a comment in the local Mensa Yahoo group, regarding the lack of a local directory, that REALLY jerked my chain. I snapped back. A certain person seems to think he has all the answers and conveniently ignores what he doesn't like, and everyone else ignores his "I'm the source of all wisdom" attitude (except in conversation when he's not around) because he's also one of the most active and social people, which IS appreciated, and they don't want to lose him. What they don't realize is that since no one wants to go head-to-head with him and lets him have his way, NOBODY ELSE WANTS TO DO ANYTHING! They don't want to have to deal with him. He's the chief cause of the apathy in the group, and that's not just my opinion.
I didn't want to touch off the powder keg but I may have. He went a little too far this time, and this time he stepped on MY toes. He's ON the Board, but he often seems to think he IS the Board.
Oh, well. It needed saying. I'll crawl back into my apathetic but very comfortable shell now.
Grrrr.
.
Friday, August 03, 2007
1410 Check Engine
Friday, August 3, 2007
So, I started the van this afternoon, and the check engine light did not go on. I headed across the river to get it inspected, and an oil change, and transmission fluid flushed/changed.
Right up until the end of the safety inspection, the CE light was not on, but then the guy called me in, and pow, there it was. On.
In NY (don't know what it's like elsewhere), they hook the vehicle up to a machine that gathers who knows what information, which is sent directly from the machine to the DMV (for all I know it could be your destinations and speeds, photos of passengers and taped conversations, for the past year! Heck, this is NY. It could happen!), and if the check engine light is on for any reason, it's an automatic fail. He wanted to fail it right then. I did the gas cap bit, told him it might take a minute or two and to continue with the safety inspection and fluid changes, then look again.
Forty-five minutes later, my name was called, and the van had passed!
When I went out to drive it home, the CE light was off.
Then when I was almost home, I pressed the cruise control button and tried to set the speed, and it didn't take, and I thought "Uh oh", and the cruise control turned itself off, and the CE light went on.
Oh, well. It passed inspection. I've got some time to figure this one out. As for tomorrow's furniture moving, if it were just locally I'd do it, but the furniture is on Long Island, and I'm not sure I want to go that far while I don't know what will happen. Last year the screwed-up computer caused stalls in intersections.
.
So, I started the van this afternoon, and the check engine light did not go on. I headed across the river to get it inspected, and an oil change, and transmission fluid flushed/changed.
Right up until the end of the safety inspection, the CE light was not on, but then the guy called me in, and pow, there it was. On.
In NY (don't know what it's like elsewhere), they hook the vehicle up to a machine that gathers who knows what information, which is sent directly from the machine to the DMV (for all I know it could be your destinations and speeds, photos of passengers and taped conversations, for the past year! Heck, this is NY. It could happen!), and if the check engine light is on for any reason, it's an automatic fail. He wanted to fail it right then. I did the gas cap bit, told him it might take a minute or two and to continue with the safety inspection and fluid changes, then look again.
Forty-five minutes later, my name was called, and the van had passed!
When I went out to drive it home, the CE light was off.
Then when I was almost home, I pressed the cruise control button and tried to set the speed, and it didn't take, and I thought "Uh oh", and the cruise control turned itself off, and the CE light went on.
Oh, well. It passed inspection. I've got some time to figure this one out. As for tomorrow's furniture moving, if it were just locally I'd do it, but the furniture is on Long Island, and I'm not sure I want to go that far while I don't know what will happen. Last year the screwed-up computer caused stalls in intersections.
.
1409 Kitty Breakthrough!
Friday, August 3, 2007
Jasper has been behind the washing machine since Monday. I put soft food in a bowl at the end of the washer, and when I'm not around he'd eat the food, drink some water, piddle on the floor on the other side of the laundry room (ignoring the litter box - I'm still not sure where the poopy is - no odors evident). There was some dry food on a plate in the middle of the room, too, but he'd been ignoring it. All I've actually seen of him since Sunday night has been big eyes in the dust and dark behind the washer.
This morning, it was evident he had found the dry food. And he had piddled on the newspaper I'd put down in what appeared to be his chosen urinal area.
Since he approved of the dry food, this morning I reached (a long stretch for me) between the utility sink and the washer to put some dry food in the bowl, and was surprised when a little head pushed itself under my hand. He wanted a head and neck scratching while he ate.
He wouldn't come completely out from the safe space, but ... this may yet work out. I didn't see fear in his eyes this morning. I saw recognition. So maybe it will take a few days of my lying on the floor stretching to reach between the sink and washer to scratch a furry neck.
I can do that.
.
Jasper has been behind the washing machine since Monday. I put soft food in a bowl at the end of the washer, and when I'm not around he'd eat the food, drink some water, piddle on the floor on the other side of the laundry room (ignoring the litter box - I'm still not sure where the poopy is - no odors evident). There was some dry food on a plate in the middle of the room, too, but he'd been ignoring it. All I've actually seen of him since Sunday night has been big eyes in the dust and dark behind the washer.
This morning, it was evident he had found the dry food. And he had piddled on the newspaper I'd put down in what appeared to be his chosen urinal area.
Since he approved of the dry food, this morning I reached (a long stretch for me) between the utility sink and the washer to put some dry food in the bowl, and was surprised when a little head pushed itself under my hand. He wanted a head and neck scratching while he ate.
He wouldn't come completely out from the safe space, but ... this may yet work out. I didn't see fear in his eyes this morning. I saw recognition. So maybe it will take a few days of my lying on the floor stretching to reach between the sink and washer to scratch a furry neck.
I can do that.
.
1408 Dear Diary - Four Days
Thursday August 2 into Friday August 3, 2007
I have something of a much higher priority to do tonight before I go to bed, therefore I'm doing this first. The Man laughs at me because there are things that make perfect sense to me, but would make no sense to anyone else. I guess this is one of them. If I do a lower priority thing first, then I can be sure BOTH will get done before I conk out.
I haven't kept track of the past four days, and if I don't soon, it'll be all mixed up in my head.
Ok. Monday I caught up on everything I'd let slide since Wednesday.
Tuesday I wrote a very long and difficult email to FW on a topic we had discussed the day before, and then I went to EEE (Mensa dinner) at the Indian restaurant in the village. There was Angie, Jeff, John, Roman, and me. Jeff had ridden his bike in from Bard, and it got dark, and his bike had no lights, and it didn't fit in a car trunk, so I followed him all the way back to Bard at between 7 and 17 mph with my flashers on. I guess it was ok, because a police car passed us without a blink.
Wednesday I REALLY overslept. Crazy. I had wanted to go to the museum, I need to process the checks that came in during July, but I didn't wake up until 2 pm. After that, I haven't the faintest idea what I did. I do recall getting several phone calls, several hours on the phone with several people. Social stuff. You'd never guess I hate talking on the phone.
Thursday I got up at a decent hour and did some financial research, some cleaning up in the laundry room, flirting with the new kitty, bits of things. Left the house a little after 3 pm to meet Roman for dinner. We went to see Richard III at Boscobel. Last minute tickets don't get you the best seats, but they were still pretty good. This time the costumes were vaguely Egyptian, and we had great difficulty understanding the family relationships. The guy who played Richard was very good, although his very strong resemblance to my Hairless Hunk was rather distracting.
Sundaes after, in a restaurant/ice cream parlor that played wonderful 50s, 60s, and 70s music, and I didn't want to leave. I kept pumping quarters into the "nickelodeon". (Remember when you got one song for a nickel, six for a quarter? Now it's three for a dollar!) Got home a little after 1 am.
Roman and I talked about our relationship a bit. We are very good friends right now, and I don't want to screw that up by getting too involved. He's having a little trouble with that. I told him I'd like to find him a good woman, but on the other hand, I don't want to share him. We'll figure it out, I guess. I hope.
Tomorrow I have to figure out what to do with the minivan. On Tuesday I had committed to help a friend move some furniture on Saturday. I screwed up. I forgot that last week when I tried started it, the "check engine" light went on. It won't pass inspection if the CE light is on, and it was due for inspection by the end of July. Man, I blew it. From a couple of directions.
So I'll have to check it tomorrow morning. I hope tightening the gas cap will have been enough. If so, I'll get it inspected tomorrow. If not, I don't know what I'll do.
Now on to more the more important task, so I can eventually get some sleep.
I have something of a much higher priority to do tonight before I go to bed, therefore I'm doing this first. The Man laughs at me because there are things that make perfect sense to me, but would make no sense to anyone else. I guess this is one of them. If I do a lower priority thing first, then I can be sure BOTH will get done before I conk out.
I haven't kept track of the past four days, and if I don't soon, it'll be all mixed up in my head.
Ok. Monday I caught up on everything I'd let slide since Wednesday.
Tuesday I wrote a very long and difficult email to FW on a topic we had discussed the day before, and then I went to EEE (Mensa dinner) at the Indian restaurant in the village. There was Angie, Jeff, John, Roman, and me. Jeff had ridden his bike in from Bard, and it got dark, and his bike had no lights, and it didn't fit in a car trunk, so I followed him all the way back to Bard at between 7 and 17 mph with my flashers on. I guess it was ok, because a police car passed us without a blink.
Wednesday I REALLY overslept. Crazy. I had wanted to go to the museum, I need to process the checks that came in during July, but I didn't wake up until 2 pm. After that, I haven't the faintest idea what I did. I do recall getting several phone calls, several hours on the phone with several people. Social stuff. You'd never guess I hate talking on the phone.
Thursday I got up at a decent hour and did some financial research, some cleaning up in the laundry room, flirting with the new kitty, bits of things. Left the house a little after 3 pm to meet Roman for dinner. We went to see Richard III at Boscobel. Last minute tickets don't get you the best seats, but they were still pretty good. This time the costumes were vaguely Egyptian, and we had great difficulty understanding the family relationships. The guy who played Richard was very good, although his very strong resemblance to my Hairless Hunk was rather distracting.
Sundaes after, in a restaurant/ice cream parlor that played wonderful 50s, 60s, and 70s music, and I didn't want to leave. I kept pumping quarters into the "nickelodeon". (Remember when you got one song for a nickel, six for a quarter? Now it's three for a dollar!) Got home a little after 1 am.
Roman and I talked about our relationship a bit. We are very good friends right now, and I don't want to screw that up by getting too involved. He's having a little trouble with that. I told him I'd like to find him a good woman, but on the other hand, I don't want to share him. We'll figure it out, I guess. I hope.
Tomorrow I have to figure out what to do with the minivan. On Tuesday I had committed to help a friend move some furniture on Saturday. I screwed up. I forgot that last week when I tried started it, the "check engine" light went on. It won't pass inspection if the CE light is on, and it was due for inspection by the end of July. Man, I blew it. From a couple of directions.
So I'll have to check it tomorrow morning. I hope tightening the gas cap will have been enough. If so, I'll get it inspected tomorrow. If not, I don't know what I'll do.
Now on to more the more important task, so I can eventually get some sleep.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
1407 Catching Honey
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Something funny that happened last weekend: Son-in-law Hercules's mother, K-Mom (I'm S-Mom), was talking about an abandoned cat named Honey that she'd been trying to catch, and Hercules said, "Did you try flies? I hear you can catch a lot of honey with flies."
I don't think he realized what he'd said until he thought about it.
So Thursday night I was telling The Man about it, and I said, "And then Hercules said, did you try...", and The Man interrupted with "Flies! They say you can catch a lot of honey with flies."
I cracked up. I swear those two have the same brain! The two of them are always finishing each other's thoughts, even the weird ones. They think the same way.
I'm not sure which is better, or worse - that a 32-yo has the brain of a 47-yo, or vice versa.
.
Something funny that happened last weekend: Son-in-law Hercules's mother, K-Mom (I'm S-Mom), was talking about an abandoned cat named Honey that she'd been trying to catch, and Hercules said, "Did you try flies? I hear you can catch a lot of honey with flies."
I don't think he realized what he'd said until he thought about it.
So Thursday night I was telling The Man about it, and I said, "And then Hercules said, did you try...", and The Man interrupted with "Flies! They say you can catch a lot of honey with flies."
I cracked up. I swear those two have the same brain! The two of them are always finishing each other's thoughts, even the weird ones. They think the same way.
I'm not sure which is better, or worse - that a 32-yo has the brain of a 47-yo, or vice versa.
.
1406 Dear Diary - Weekend in NJ, Part 2
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.
.
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.
.
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