Friday, August 22, 2008
The Company had two big-iron operating systems that were very similar, the older one supported in Endicott, NY, and the newer, which took advantage of newer hardware technology, in Kingston, NY. The Company decided to combine them on a base generated from the newer system, and to "transition" all customers to the new combined system. (Partly because they wanted to retire the old hardware.)
It was a major effort. Functions that existed on one system and not the other would have to be combined on the new system, so there were a lot of new line items.
Externals - messages, responses, return codes, command syntax, etc. - would be hit hard. Although I owned the externals, another design department was in charge of identifying what would have to be done, writing the specs, making the projections, planning, etc. There was a team of five, with Peter C. as the team leader.
I went to Peter, and asked what it looked like so far. He confessed that he had no idea how big it was. He was looking at just comparison of text of commands and messages. I pointed out that there are differences in function, too. The same command didn't necessarily work the same on both systems, because they are based on different hardware, and that there are user applications that capture return codes and responses "under the covers" and perform different actions based on those return codes.
He turned green. He didn't know where to start.
The problem interested me. On my own time, I wrote a super-generator that allowed me to execute every variation of every command in both systems, and then it automatically compared the results. It was a super-human effort. In total, going after all options on all commands, and all responses, messages, and return codes, there were over 30,000 variations. Then I obtained some examples of user applications, and scanned them to identify which externals were heavily used, and which had less impact. Major, major effort. No sleep for weeks.
When I had the results, I asked Peter to call a meeting of his team, where I presented foils of my results, identifying all differences between the systems, sorted as to impact, including a recommendation as to which were mainly used by the old-system applications, and which the new, plus an estimate of the man-hours required to consolidate and test them. Peter's manager attended the presentation.
A few months later, Peter got a HUGE monetary award, one of those corporate-level things, PLUS a huge promotion, for his work in identifying and prioritizing the external differences.
It turns out that he had made presentations to the management chain, all the way up to the product owner level.
Although none of us "grunts" had been invited to, or even knew about, the presentations, my friend Edith had somehow seen a copy of his foils. She came to me and asked if I had seen them. I said no, why. She said I should ask Peter for a copy. That's all she said.
I asked him, and he kept putting me off. He'd get them. He'd make a copy. It was a long time ago, he didn't have it anymore. So I found me someone, a manager, who had been at one of the meetings, and whom I was able to bamboozle into locating a copy for me.
It was my foils. Exactly. My name had been removed and replaced by his, and my name was not mentioned anywhere as so much as a contributor. Not a whisper.
I immediately marched straight over to Peter's office. I stood in his doorway until he looked up and noticed me, and I said, "You don't have to keep looking for those foils for me. I got a copy." He turned white and actually literally shook. "They're very interesting," I said, and I turned around and left.
I was furious. Not simply at what Peter had done, but his manager had been at the meeting where I had presented those foils, and she had to have known what Peter had done. His team and department knew what he had done. Within days of the award announcement, most of the several hundred people working on the operating system knew what he had done. Edith was the only person who actually said anything to me. Everybody else just looked at me funny.
That was MY work, and should have been MY award, MY acclaim, MY promotion, and everyone knew it.
I waited a while to see if he would confess. He didn't. I knew there would be no benefit to me in raising a stink. But for the next year and a half, every time he saw me in the hall, or in a conference room, he shook. He couldn't follow a thought if I was around. He stuttered. He dropped things.
Me? I smiled at him. I was pleasant. I looked him straight in the eye, as his eyes shifted off. And because I owned those externals, I had a natural interest in the activities of his team, so I made it a point to attend every meeting he called, every presentation he gave, for the rest of my time in that lab.
You know, it would not have occurred to me to have taken the presentation up the line. It wasn't necessary. No management approval was necessary to act on that material. They didn't even need to know about it, and I'd have seen it as wasting their time. There was no other reason for Peter to do those presentations except to draw attention to what a wonderful job he'd done. Too bad he didn't do it. I did. And it wasn't even my job - it was his job, but he was incapable. Of everything but taking the credit, I guess.
Heh heh - he lives near me. Twenty years later I still run into him in the pharmacy or grocery store, and he still quakes when he sees me, and I am still pleasant. I'm almost (but not fully) content with that. He knows what he did and he's suffering his own hell.
------------------------------------
Phooey - I'm gonna put his name here. It's all true, and I've got witnesses who will back me up so I can't get in trouble for it. Hi, Peter Chenevert! Yeah, I'm still pissed.
.
Friday, August 22, 2008
1966 Visibility, Part 3 - translation
Friday, August 22, 2008
In the late '80s I was in a design department. I owned all the externals - commands, messages, responses, return codes, everything that the user saw - for one of The Company's big iron operating systems. At that time, I wrote a guide to translation that was so well received that it became a part of The Company-wide operating system standards. (It's possible to write interfaces that cannot be translated.) The Company was expanding into other countries, and translation was important.
I didn't follow my own advice on that one. I don't think anyone in management was at all aware of the guide.
I noticed that many of the existing interfaces were not translatable. They needed to be rewritten. I couldn't do it, because my plate was full, so I went to a few people in the usability design departments, and asked if they could help. Several of them were enthusiastic and wanted to do it. So I met with them and their managers, to get permission for three of them (from three different departments) to work on it, and a fourth person from programming to make the code updates. I marked the externals that needed fixing, including what they should be changed to. While we were at it, it was a good time to fix grammar and punctuation, too, and I marked those up.
Some months later, the rewritten materials went to Japan for translation, and the Japanese translators were wildly enthusiastic about our externals.
Then, one day, there was a multi-department meeting of the design area. The umpty-high manager got up and talked about how happy the translators were with our externals, and announced that the people who'd done this "on their own" were getting awards. They each got a bunch of money, and a ticky in their personnel folders.
Yup, those four. Not me. Even though it was I who recognized the need, and identified all the externals needing improvement, and wrote what they should be changed to. That was more work than simply making the changes, which was essentially a clerical job.
I was stunned. The other four kept glancing at me and shrugging, like "don't blame me!"
To their credit, the four went to my manager, and pointed out that I should also have gotten an award, since I was the one who recognized the need, did all the design work, and negotiated the resources to accomplish it. It would never have happened without me.
A few days later, my manager called me into his office, alone, no witnesses, and handed me a steel ball point pen with "Outstanding Contribution" stamped on. He said that was the best he could do, and that I should keep it quiet, or people would think all they had to get an award was complain and drum up support.
That was like a slap. I was ready to ask for a transfer.
And then something worse happened which pretty much steeled my resolve to get out of there.
.
In the late '80s I was in a design department. I owned all the externals - commands, messages, responses, return codes, everything that the user saw - for one of The Company's big iron operating systems. At that time, I wrote a guide to translation that was so well received that it became a part of The Company-wide operating system standards. (It's possible to write interfaces that cannot be translated.) The Company was expanding into other countries, and translation was important.
I didn't follow my own advice on that one. I don't think anyone in management was at all aware of the guide.
I noticed that many of the existing interfaces were not translatable. They needed to be rewritten. I couldn't do it, because my plate was full, so I went to a few people in the usability design departments, and asked if they could help. Several of them were enthusiastic and wanted to do it. So I met with them and their managers, to get permission for three of them (from three different departments) to work on it, and a fourth person from programming to make the code updates. I marked the externals that needed fixing, including what they should be changed to. While we were at it, it was a good time to fix grammar and punctuation, too, and I marked those up.
Some months later, the rewritten materials went to Japan for translation, and the Japanese translators were wildly enthusiastic about our externals.
Then, one day, there was a multi-department meeting of the design area. The umpty-high manager got up and talked about how happy the translators were with our externals, and announced that the people who'd done this "on their own" were getting awards. They each got a bunch of money, and a ticky in their personnel folders.
Yup, those four. Not me. Even though it was I who recognized the need, and identified all the externals needing improvement, and wrote what they should be changed to. That was more work than simply making the changes, which was essentially a clerical job.
I was stunned. The other four kept glancing at me and shrugging, like "don't blame me!"
To their credit, the four went to my manager, and pointed out that I should also have gotten an award, since I was the one who recognized the need, did all the design work, and negotiated the resources to accomplish it. It would never have happened without me.
A few days later, my manager called me into his office, alone, no witnesses, and handed me a steel ball point pen with "Outstanding Contribution" stamped on. He said that was the best he could do, and that I should keep it quiet, or people would think all they had to get an award was complain and drum up support.
That was like a slap. I was ready to ask for a transfer.
And then something worse happened which pretty much steeled my resolve to get out of there.
.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
1965 Visibility, Part 2 - the pig joke
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I have several examples of occasions when I lost credit (or more accurately, credit was stolen) because I was too quiet.
This one is small, but even though it was like 15 years ago, it still rankles.
The local Mensa group has a camping weekend every fall. I don't camp, but I'll go for the day Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday nights, they used to have a bonfire, and a sing-along, finishing up with a joke-off.
There are two of our male members who always have a stock of jokes, and they study up for the joke-off, and it usually ends up with the two of them trying to outdo each other.
I can never remember jokes. Don't know why, I just can't remember short jokes. I do marginally better with long jokes or "shaggy dog" stories. But this one year I had a terrific new joke - it was new then, but old now. You've probably heard some version of it. It's called "The Wonderful Pig". There are a few versions of it out there on the web, but it's been shortened. It loses effect shortened. When I had it, it was new, full, and punchy. And I'm durn good at telling a story.
So, that night, the joke-off had been going a while, and the two guys were starting to slow down. It looked sort of like Bill was winning. And then I raised my hand and told "The Wonderful Pig". No one had heard it before, and it got a very good reception.
Then I went home for the night.
The next morning at breakfast, they had the vote for best joke told the night before. I don't know what the ballots looked like, whether they had the name of the teller on them, whether it was a show of hands or a secret vote, because I hadn't arrived yet. Shortly after I arrived, they announced the winner for the best joke told the night before.
It was unaminous. The winner for the best joke, "The Wonderful Pig", was Bill. Everybody cheeered and clapped, Bill got up to collect his prize.
I sat there stunned. I turned to NJ and said, "Bill didn't tell that joke, I did." She said, "No, Bill did. I remember." She had been sitting right next to me when I told it. Later I went to Bill, and I reminded him that the The Wonderful Pig was my contribution. He said no, it was his.
I suspect that whoever made up the ballot put him as the teller, because it was most likely, and after that it became fact in everyone's mind.
After all, I never tell jokes.
I'm still angry. Still. Angry. Still.
I told you it was a little thing....
------------------------------------
One day a salesman stops in a bar in a small country town. While he's sitting there, a farmer enters, accompanied by a three-legged pig. The farmer sits at the bar, and the bartender, without being asked, draws a beer for the farmer, and a bowl of beer which he sets on the floor in front of the pig.
After the farmer and pig finish their beers and leave, the salesman calls the bartender over and asks him, frowning, if he usually serves farm animals in his establishment.
The bartender says "No, just that one. He's special. That's one wonderful pig", and goes on to tell the salesman the story.
Last spring the farmer and his wife were visiting neighbors for the evening, leaving their new baby boy in the care of their 12-year-old daughter. Somehow, a fire started in the basement. The daughter had been asleep on the couch, and had fallen unconscious from the smoke.
The pig, in his sty, must have seen the fire or smelled the smoke, and he broke out of his sty and ran to the house. He kicked in the door, grabbed the daughter by her collar, and dragged her out to the porch, where she regained consciousness.
By now, the flames were in the living room. The pig, undeterred, ran through the flames and up the stairs to the baby's room. He picked up the baby and carried him outside, depositing him far from the house.
The flames were now starting to spread to the barn. The pig ran to the barn, and threw himself against the door until it burst open. He opened all the stalls, and bit and nipped and kicked until he forced all the panicked livestock outside.
He then ran a mile to the neighbor's house, where the farmer and his wife were visiting. He set up such a ruckus that the farmer, his wife, and the neighbors came outside. They saw the glow in the west, and knew exactly what it meant, and they headed for the farm. The neighbors did not have a telephone, so the pig ran another mile to the town, where he set up a ruckus at the fire hall, pulling the rope to ring the bell. The townsfolk looked out to see what the problem was, saw the glow, and knew what it meant.
The pig ran the two miles back home, leading the fire truck. He dragged his food trough out of the sty to a safe distance. Then he sat down and licked his burns.
The farmer's family was safe, the cows and horses were all saved. The house was half burned, but the barn was only slightly damaged.
"Yup," said the bartender, nodding, "that's one wonderful pig, and he can have a beer here any time he wants."
The salesman was impressed. "He did all of that on three legs?"
"Oh, no, he had four legs then."
Salesman: "What happened? Did he lose a leg to the fire?"
Bartender, shaking his head, "Oh, no. It's just that, well, when you have a wonderful pig like that, you don't eat him all at once."
.
I have several examples of occasions when I lost credit (or more accurately, credit was stolen) because I was too quiet.
This one is small, but even though it was like 15 years ago, it still rankles.
The local Mensa group has a camping weekend every fall. I don't camp, but I'll go for the day Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday nights, they used to have a bonfire, and a sing-along, finishing up with a joke-off.
There are two of our male members who always have a stock of jokes, and they study up for the joke-off, and it usually ends up with the two of them trying to outdo each other.
I can never remember jokes. Don't know why, I just can't remember short jokes. I do marginally better with long jokes or "shaggy dog" stories. But this one year I had a terrific new joke - it was new then, but old now. You've probably heard some version of it. It's called "The Wonderful Pig". There are a few versions of it out there on the web, but it's been shortened. It loses effect shortened. When I had it, it was new, full, and punchy. And I'm durn good at telling a story.
So, that night, the joke-off had been going a while, and the two guys were starting to slow down. It looked sort of like Bill was winning. And then I raised my hand and told "The Wonderful Pig". No one had heard it before, and it got a very good reception.
Then I went home for the night.
The next morning at breakfast, they had the vote for best joke told the night before. I don't know what the ballots looked like, whether they had the name of the teller on them, whether it was a show of hands or a secret vote, because I hadn't arrived yet. Shortly after I arrived, they announced the winner for the best joke told the night before.
It was unaminous. The winner for the best joke, "The Wonderful Pig", was Bill. Everybody cheeered and clapped, Bill got up to collect his prize.
I sat there stunned. I turned to NJ and said, "Bill didn't tell that joke, I did." She said, "No, Bill did. I remember." She had been sitting right next to me when I told it. Later I went to Bill, and I reminded him that the The Wonderful Pig was my contribution. He said no, it was his.
I suspect that whoever made up the ballot put him as the teller, because it was most likely, and after that it became fact in everyone's mind.
After all, I never tell jokes.
I'm still angry. Still. Angry. Still.
I told you it was a little thing....
------------------------------------
The Wonderful Pig
One day a salesman stops in a bar in a small country town. While he's sitting there, a farmer enters, accompanied by a three-legged pig. The farmer sits at the bar, and the bartender, without being asked, draws a beer for the farmer, and a bowl of beer which he sets on the floor in front of the pig.
After the farmer and pig finish their beers and leave, the salesman calls the bartender over and asks him, frowning, if he usually serves farm animals in his establishment.
The bartender says "No, just that one. He's special. That's one wonderful pig", and goes on to tell the salesman the story.
Last spring the farmer and his wife were visiting neighbors for the evening, leaving their new baby boy in the care of their 12-year-old daughter. Somehow, a fire started in the basement. The daughter had been asleep on the couch, and had fallen unconscious from the smoke.
The pig, in his sty, must have seen the fire or smelled the smoke, and he broke out of his sty and ran to the house. He kicked in the door, grabbed the daughter by her collar, and dragged her out to the porch, where she regained consciousness.
By now, the flames were in the living room. The pig, undeterred, ran through the flames and up the stairs to the baby's room. He picked up the baby and carried him outside, depositing him far from the house.
The flames were now starting to spread to the barn. The pig ran to the barn, and threw himself against the door until it burst open. He opened all the stalls, and bit and nipped and kicked until he forced all the panicked livestock outside.
He then ran a mile to the neighbor's house, where the farmer and his wife were visiting. He set up such a ruckus that the farmer, his wife, and the neighbors came outside. They saw the glow in the west, and knew exactly what it meant, and they headed for the farm. The neighbors did not have a telephone, so the pig ran another mile to the town, where he set up a ruckus at the fire hall, pulling the rope to ring the bell. The townsfolk looked out to see what the problem was, saw the glow, and knew what it meant.
The pig ran the two miles back home, leading the fire truck. He dragged his food trough out of the sty to a safe distance. Then he sat down and licked his burns.
The farmer's family was safe, the cows and horses were all saved. The house was half burned, but the barn was only slightly damaged.
"Yup," said the bartender, nodding, "that's one wonderful pig, and he can have a beer here any time he wants."
The salesman was impressed. "He did all of that on three legs?"
"Oh, no, he had four legs then."
Salesman: "What happened? Did he lose a leg to the fire?"
Bartender, shaking his head, "Oh, no. It's just that, well, when you have a wonderful pig like that, you don't eat him all at once."
.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
1964 Visibility, Part 1 - an unwritten book
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
I was cleaning out the den file cabinet, and found some notes I had made on a book I'd planned to someday write. I have no memory of my impetus. It must have been a very long time ago, because the topic was apparently important to me then, but is nothing but a passing interest now.
The topic was how to get ahead at work. You don't get promotions and raises from doing a good job, or by making a contribution. If I learned nothing else during my years with the company, I learned that. You can do a mediocre job, and still get rewarded primarily for being visible.
I know this is true. I did ok with The Company, but if I'd been more visible, or more accurately, more visible in more generally approved ways, I'd have done better. Poor Jay was a superstar among his coworkers, highly respected, he was the source of all knowledge, the person to go to for answers and assistance. His own work was almost perfect ("almost" only because he would always stubbornly sacrifice schedules to quality). But he was otherwise completely invisible, and constantly passed over.
Ok. From my notes, these are the things you have to do to get the rewards:
(I'm not saying I was so wonderful. I did ok. I could have done a lot better had I taken my own advice, but a lot of this stuff requires a cynicism I don't have. I respected myself too much. I did 2, 5, 7, 8, and 9.)
Of the things you could be assigned to or volunteer for, some are higher visibility than others, and therefore get you more goodies than others. In order of decreasing visiblity:
Visible
If everything you're doing is in the bottom six, you're stuck.
You might say, "Hey, I'm in a customer relations department! I'm very visible to my immediate management chain." Fine. But in a large US corporation, sales is highest on the budget and passing-out-goodies ladder, and customer service is the lowest. You might be the biggest frog, but you're in the smallest pond.
Copyright mine. If you want to write the book, I'll be happy to consult.
.
I was cleaning out the den file cabinet, and found some notes I had made on a book I'd planned to someday write. I have no memory of my impetus. It must have been a very long time ago, because the topic was apparently important to me then, but is nothing but a passing interest now.
The topic was how to get ahead at work. You don't get promotions and raises from doing a good job, or by making a contribution. If I learned nothing else during my years with the company, I learned that. You can do a mediocre job, and still get rewarded primarily for being visible.
I know this is true. I did ok with The Company, but if I'd been more visible, or more accurately, more visible in more generally approved ways, I'd have done better. Poor Jay was a superstar among his coworkers, highly respected, he was the source of all knowledge, the person to go to for answers and assistance. His own work was almost perfect ("almost" only because he would always stubbornly sacrifice schedules to quality). But he was otherwise completely invisible, and constantly passed over.
Ok. From my notes, these are the things you have to do to get the rewards:
- Be visible.
- Be indispensable to management.
- Take credit for everything you reasonably can, blow your own horn.
- Get on the right projects, avoid the dogs. All you need is one important project that you can then use to avoid dogs, because "...it will impact this big important, blah blah...".
- Stay educated, take classes whenever they're offered.
- Stay aware of everything around you - future projects, office politics, etc. Be the one in the know.
- Produce weekly accomplishment (not activity) reports, and request frequent 1-1s with management. A few months before an evaluation, request an interim (how am I doing so far, and how can I improve?) evaluation.
- Notice areas for improvement, and make formal suggestions.
- Do not work overtime, ever!, except in rare cases when management has requested it for a specific purpose. Then volunteer. Constant overtime, accepting more work than you can complete in a workday, smacks of poor time-management, and leaves you unavailable in a crisis.
- Don't step on the toes of loud equally-visible people. Be diplomatic.
- Arrive every morning at the earliest "start time", but don't come in earlier than that. The people who make decisions are often early, and will notice you, but coming in too early means either you're working overtime (see #9), or you will be perceived as leaving early. Try to walk in from the parking lot with, or a few feet ahead of, your manager.
(I'm not saying I was so wonderful. I did ok. I could have done a lot better had I taken my own advice, but a lot of this stuff requires a cynicism I don't have. I respected myself too much. I did 2, 5, 7, 8, and 9.)
Of the things you could be assigned to or volunteer for, some are higher visibility than others, and therefore get you more goodies than others. In order of decreasing visiblity:
Visible
- Presenting
- Reporting
- Tracking (planning, scheduling, resource management)
- Innovation
- Problem solving
- Productivity
- Contributing to quality-ensuring procedures
- Teamwork
- Teaching
- Enabling others
- Customer relations
If everything you're doing is in the bottom six, you're stuck.
You might say, "Hey, I'm in a customer relations department! I'm very visible to my immediate management chain." Fine. But in a large US corporation, sales is highest on the budget and passing-out-goodies ladder, and customer service is the lowest. You might be the biggest frog, but you're in the smallest pond.
Copyright mine. If you want to write the book, I'll be happy to consult.
.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
1963 County Fair
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I went to the county fair today. I went to every barn, every building, looked at every stand, every animal, every display. I considered riding on the carousel, but it needed three ride tickets, and when I finally found a ticket booth it was at some distance from the carousel, and tickets were $1 each. Yeouch!
I bought french fries (small size, with lots of salt and malt vinegar), a $15 ring that I thought was unusual, five packages of dry soup mix (each of which makes 2 quarts!), a frozen custard sundae with hot fudge and peanut butter sauce, and clip-on sunglasses that fit my frames perfectly.
I walked a few miles, I think.
And then I came home.
That's officially the end of summer.
.
I went to the county fair today. I went to every barn, every building, looked at every stand, every animal, every display. I considered riding on the carousel, but it needed three ride tickets, and when I finally found a ticket booth it was at some distance from the carousel, and tickets were $1 each. Yeouch!
I bought french fries (small size, with lots of salt and malt vinegar), a $15 ring that I thought was unusual, five packages of dry soup mix (each of which makes 2 quarts!), a frozen custard sundae with hot fudge and peanut butter sauce, and clip-on sunglasses that fit my frames perfectly.
I walked a few miles, I think.
And then I came home.
That's officially the end of summer.
.
Monday, August 18, 2008
1962 Fiberglass, Back Help, etc.
Monday, August 18, 2008
"Disappointment is the distance between expectations and reality."
-----------------------
Remember when I think I came into contact with fiberglass dust last spring, and was sprouting what looked like glass slivers for days? Shreve at The Daily Coyote says bathing in vinegar dissolves the stuff. She says it feels weird. I almost can't wait to test it.
-----------------------
Saturday, when I was wearing the tight boned laced bodice, when I got in the car, the mirror was too low. It was showing back seat and a sliver out the back window. I had to adjust it up. Yesterday, wearing a loose dress, the mirror was too high, showing the roof and a sliver out the back window. Even sitting as straight up as I could it was too high. I had to adjust it down.
Conclusion - the bodice made me taller. My posture is usually pretty good. If I slump, my back goes out. So it wasn't just posture. I really think the bodice lifted my ribs and lengthened my spine.
I'm glad I found that site a while ago with all the different lacing. I'm going to need a lacing that doesn't self-adjust. By the end of the day Saturday, the laces had widened at the bustal area on the front and sides and down the tummy point in front, and had cinched very narrow at the waist all around. My lace gaps took on an extreme hourglass shape, and so did I.
.
"Disappointment is the distance between expectations and reality."
-----------------------
Remember when I think I came into contact with fiberglass dust last spring, and was sprouting what looked like glass slivers for days? Shreve at The Daily Coyote says bathing in vinegar dissolves the stuff. She says it feels weird. I almost can't wait to test it.
-----------------------
Saturday, when I was wearing the tight boned laced bodice, when I got in the car, the mirror was too low. It was showing back seat and a sliver out the back window. I had to adjust it up. Yesterday, wearing a loose dress, the mirror was too high, showing the roof and a sliver out the back window. Even sitting as straight up as I could it was too high. I had to adjust it down.
Conclusion - the bodice made me taller. My posture is usually pretty good. If I slump, my back goes out. So it wasn't just posture. I really think the bodice lifted my ribs and lengthened my spine.
I'm glad I found that site a while ago with all the different lacing. I'm going to need a lacing that doesn't self-adjust. By the end of the day Saturday, the laces had widened at the bustal area on the front and sides and down the tummy point in front, and had cinched very narrow at the waist all around. My lace gaps took on an extreme hourglass shape, and so did I.
.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
1961 Olympic Rowing
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Women, pairs, rowing. A boat passed the camera, and it says "Kunstwerk" on the side. I misread it, switched the "s" and the "t", and thought, "That's terrible! But yeah, they are, working, that is."
.
Women, pairs, rowing. A boat passed the camera, and it says "Kunstwerk" on the side. I misread it, switched the "s" and the "t", and thought, "That's terrible! But yeah, they are, working, that is."
.
1960 Olympic Fencing
Sunday, August 17, 2008
The horses are finished, and now it's fencing. I'm sitting here frowning. I haven't watched fencing since the '70s, when I fenced a bit myself. (I quit when I realized I was building enormous thighs.)
Man, has the form changed! It's no longer a graceful and balanced dance. These guys are facing each other square on, presenting a huge target. Their free arms are dangling, waving around, often in front - and hey guys, I've noticed that about half the touches are on that arm. They're jumping around and frequently crashing into each other. It seems a touch needn't be with the point - they're flailing and whacking at each other, and scoring with the side. I thought that was allowed in saber only.
It's ugly. I am unhappy.
.
The horses are finished, and now it's fencing. I'm sitting here frowning. I haven't watched fencing since the '70s, when I fenced a bit myself. (I quit when I realized I was building enormous thighs.)
Man, has the form changed! It's no longer a graceful and balanced dance. These guys are facing each other square on, presenting a huge target. Their free arms are dangling, waving around, often in front - and hey guys, I've noticed that about half the touches are on that arm. They're jumping around and frequently crashing into each other. It seems a touch needn't be with the point - they're flailing and whacking at each other, and scoring with the side. I thought that was allowed in saber only.
It's ugly. I am unhappy.
.
1959 Olympic Horses
Sunday, August 17, 2008
I'm watching the Olympic equestrian events, jumping this afternoon. I'm not particularly interested in anything else but the equestrian stuff. I like the announcers today - they give some credit to the horse. I get annoyed when the commentators act like the rider is running around and jumping all alone.
.
I'm watching the Olympic equestrian events, jumping this afternoon. I'm not particularly interested in anything else but the equestrian stuff. I like the announcers today - they give some credit to the horse. I get annoyed when the commentators act like the rider is running around and jumping all alone.
.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
1958 Faire, Tarot, and other bits
Saturday, August 16, 2008
I went to the big Renaissance Faire in Tuxedo today. It's the first time I've gone in several years. It has changed.
I don't know if they're still doing the running play. In the past, it was all over the place, constantly, hard to miss. And there was music, and jousting, and duels, and all kinds of performances, everywhere, including Robin and his merrie band waylaying passersby in the woods. All the performers and shop keepers spoke "Olde English", with carefully cultivated accents and vocabulary.
Not so this year. There were at least three times the retail booths, and the only performances I happened to catch were bellydancers (two - I watched one dance and left embarrassed for her), and a story teller. The Olde English consisted of "M'Lady...", and that was about it. I bought a carving of a frog emerging from a polished knot of wood root, and a shredded pork sandwich, and a Tarot reading. I stayed four hours, and left.
I'm glad I went, because I'd be sad if I missed it again this year after so long, but now it will be easier to miss it next year.
I dressed for it this year - a long bias cut black dress with long laced-up sleeves with long wrist points that flutter, with a tight pewter and pale green brocade boned & laced bodice over it (a cheap one I bought on eBay - first time out in a bodice, I wanted to wear one I wouldn't mind splitting). Many of the shops and booths were selling bodices, and the shop owners all complimented mine. Nicer, men of a certain age lengthened their glances to a stare, with a smile at the end. Rather nice. Certainly appreciated. A wench needs a boost every so often.
--------------------------------
The Tarot reading: current and 12 month future.
She began by saying that this does not mean these things will happen, because I can influence the future by taking action. But if I take no action, this is the default.
Life: Health is good, life is comfortable, I'm mostly happy, etc etc. She used a lot of words and qualifiers, and when she was finished, I asked "Does that all net out to 'content'?" And she enthusiastically agreed. Not a perfect life, but a contented life. Yes. And it will be so.
Finances: She saw some problem there, that something will happen, a reversal, or expected money won't appear, ... she had difficulty defining it, so she jumped down to Work/Career", which seemed to be connected.
Work/Career: I will change jobs, with a reduction in salary, or I will retire and not get the benefits I expect, something like that, but it will not be devastating, just very irritating. She asked then what I do, and I said I was fully retired. She frowned, and said there will be some kind of financial disappointment, connected with work, actually with retirement, or leaving a job. Maybe I will start a job or business and then leave it? I said "Highly unlikely." She frowned. It bothered her. [Hmmm. I just remembered I got the annual Company retiree benefits signup package about two weeks ago. In prior years, if you didn't change anything, you didn't have to reply, and everything continued as per the prior year - so I haven't looked at the package yet. Maybe I'd better check it. I wouldn't put it past them to lull us into complacency, and then this year say that if you don't respond, you lose everything!]
House/Home: Major improvement will be made soon. Could be work on my current home, renovations or changes, or moving to another home. [I wonder if replacing A/C fits this?]
Communications: There's a blockage. There's someone close that I need to talk with, but the information isn't flowing. Possibly a child who isn't telling me something, or a relationship that needs discussion, and it isn't happening. There's an elephant in the living room that we're ignoring. [Yup. On both fronts.]
Social/Friends: "Don't get me wrong, you have a good heart, but..." she says my friends and acquaintances tend to see me as someone who stirs the pot, causes controversy.
Love: There are two men, one current, one future. The current man is leaving my sphere, actually, I am drifting away from his sphere. There is darkness surrounding him, he is dimming. There is another man on the horizon, who is cultured, artistic, creative, possibly involved with a band, that sort of thing, travels a lot for fun, he's a fun and exciting person whom I will enjoy enormously. Light surrounds him. I will become connected with him in October, no, (frown), not that soon, March. Yes, March. [I don't think I'm exactly pleased to hear this. March is the two-year anniversary with The Man.]
So, we'll see how it goes.
-------------------------------
I forgot to mention this two weeks ago, but I don't want to forget it altogether, it was so cool.
At the tournaments, people who are with the bowlers are supposed to be quiet, for two reasons - to lessen distraction, and to prevent coaching. Think golf. At a tournament, five strikes in a row is not unusual. People start to pay attention when it gets to six.
At the Pa. tournament, a guy bowling on the pair next to The Man's pair got six strikes in the first six frames, and the whispered word passed through the spectators. Then he got the seventh. Another strike in the eighth frame, and people started wandering over to watch. Ninth frame. He rolled a
.
.
... hard to say this
.
.
... it's awful
.
.
... gutter ball.
Thud rumble rumble rumble.
.
.
Gasps from the 80 people behind him. Sheepish look from him.
He got up there to go for the spare, and GOT THE SPARE! As far as everyone was concerned, it was the ninth strike. Gotta admire his cool. The entire building broke into cheers.
He then went on to finish with three more strikes. If not for that gutter ball, it would have been a perfect game, but for everyone who watched him, it WAS a perfect game.
.
I went to the big Renaissance Faire in Tuxedo today. It's the first time I've gone in several years. It has changed.
I don't know if they're still doing the running play. In the past, it was all over the place, constantly, hard to miss. And there was music, and jousting, and duels, and all kinds of performances, everywhere, including Robin and his merrie band waylaying passersby in the woods. All the performers and shop keepers spoke "Olde English", with carefully cultivated accents and vocabulary.
Not so this year. There were at least three times the retail booths, and the only performances I happened to catch were bellydancers (two - I watched one dance and left embarrassed for her), and a story teller. The Olde English consisted of "M'Lady...", and that was about it. I bought a carving of a frog emerging from a polished knot of wood root, and a shredded pork sandwich, and a Tarot reading. I stayed four hours, and left.
I'm glad I went, because I'd be sad if I missed it again this year after so long, but now it will be easier to miss it next year.
I dressed for it this year - a long bias cut black dress with long laced-up sleeves with long wrist points that flutter, with a tight pewter and pale green brocade boned & laced bodice over it (a cheap one I bought on eBay - first time out in a bodice, I wanted to wear one I wouldn't mind splitting). Many of the shops and booths were selling bodices, and the shop owners all complimented mine. Nicer, men of a certain age lengthened their glances to a stare, with a smile at the end. Rather nice. Certainly appreciated. A wench needs a boost every so often.
--------------------------------
The Tarot reading: current and 12 month future.
She began by saying that this does not mean these things will happen, because I can influence the future by taking action. But if I take no action, this is the default.
Life: Health is good, life is comfortable, I'm mostly happy, etc etc. She used a lot of words and qualifiers, and when she was finished, I asked "Does that all net out to 'content'?" And she enthusiastically agreed. Not a perfect life, but a contented life. Yes. And it will be so.
Finances: She saw some problem there, that something will happen, a reversal, or expected money won't appear, ... she had difficulty defining it, so she jumped down to Work/Career", which seemed to be connected.
Work/Career: I will change jobs, with a reduction in salary, or I will retire and not get the benefits I expect, something like that, but it will not be devastating, just very irritating. She asked then what I do, and I said I was fully retired. She frowned, and said there will be some kind of financial disappointment, connected with work, actually with retirement, or leaving a job. Maybe I will start a job or business and then leave it? I said "Highly unlikely." She frowned. It bothered her. [Hmmm. I just remembered I got the annual Company retiree benefits signup package about two weeks ago. In prior years, if you didn't change anything, you didn't have to reply, and everything continued as per the prior year - so I haven't looked at the package yet. Maybe I'd better check it. I wouldn't put it past them to lull us into complacency, and then this year say that if you don't respond, you lose everything!]
House/Home: Major improvement will be made soon. Could be work on my current home, renovations or changes, or moving to another home. [I wonder if replacing A/C fits this?]
Communications: There's a blockage. There's someone close that I need to talk with, but the information isn't flowing. Possibly a child who isn't telling me something, or a relationship that needs discussion, and it isn't happening. There's an elephant in the living room that we're ignoring. [Yup. On both fronts.]
Social/Friends: "Don't get me wrong, you have a good heart, but..." she says my friends and acquaintances tend to see me as someone who stirs the pot, causes controversy.
Love: There are two men, one current, one future. The current man is leaving my sphere, actually, I am drifting away from his sphere. There is darkness surrounding him, he is dimming. There is another man on the horizon, who is cultured, artistic, creative, possibly involved with a band, that sort of thing, travels a lot for fun, he's a fun and exciting person whom I will enjoy enormously. Light surrounds him. I will become connected with him in October, no, (frown), not that soon, March. Yes, March. [I don't think I'm exactly pleased to hear this. March is the two-year anniversary with The Man.]
So, we'll see how it goes.
-------------------------------
I forgot to mention this two weeks ago, but I don't want to forget it altogether, it was so cool.
At the tournaments, people who are with the bowlers are supposed to be quiet, for two reasons - to lessen distraction, and to prevent coaching. Think golf. At a tournament, five strikes in a row is not unusual. People start to pay attention when it gets to six.
At the Pa. tournament, a guy bowling on the pair next to The Man's pair got six strikes in the first six frames, and the whispered word passed through the spectators. Then he got the seventh. Another strike in the eighth frame, and people started wandering over to watch. Ninth frame. He rolled a
.
.
... hard to say this
.
.
... it's awful
.
.
... gutter ball.
Thud rumble rumble rumble.
.
.
Gasps from the 80 people behind him. Sheepish look from him.
He got up there to go for the spare, and GOT THE SPARE! As far as everyone was concerned, it was the ninth strike. Gotta admire his cool. The entire building broke into cheers.
He then went on to finish with three more strikes. If not for that gutter ball, it would have been a perfect game, but for everyone who watched him, it WAS a perfect game.
.
Friday, August 15, 2008
1957 Wow! Another car
Friday, August 15, 2008
Christine found a car for me:
It's a Tesla. I love the design, love the way it looks! Wow! It turns out the body was designed by Lotus. Too bad Lotus couldn't do as good a job on their own cars.
Unfortunately, there are a few problems. I'll have to do more digging to be sure, but it looks like right now it's available only in California. That's pretty far to go for service.
It's 100% electric, with a range of 220 to 250 miles between charges (various websites differ on the range), so I wouldn't count on more than 200. I sorta doubt I'd be able to pull into a gas station and ask if I could plug in. And I'm not sure how long it takes to recharge.
If one were looking for a second car, it would be the perfect "pot around town and shopping" car.
Thanks, Christine.
Hey, anyone else have recommendations? Find Silk a car!
.
Christine found a car for me:
It's a Tesla. I love the design, love the way it looks! Wow! It turns out the body was designed by Lotus. Too bad Lotus couldn't do as good a job on their own cars.
Unfortunately, there are a few problems. I'll have to do more digging to be sure, but it looks like right now it's available only in California. That's pretty far to go for service.
It's 100% electric, with a range of 220 to 250 miles between charges (various websites differ on the range), so I wouldn't count on more than 200. I sorta doubt I'd be able to pull into a gas station and ask if I could plug in. And I'm not sure how long it takes to recharge.
If one were looking for a second car, it would be the perfect "pot around town and shopping" car.
Thanks, Christine.
Hey, anyone else have recommendations? Find Silk a car!
.
1956 Unbelievable eBay Bid
Friday, August 15, 2008
There's an empty condom package and a photo of panties, and the story of why they're up for auction. at http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=250280309940.
Ok, fun.
But it has gone beyond fun. As of right now, there have been 93 bids from 53 bidders, and a bidder with a feedback score of 1012 (which means they actually buy or sell stuff, and probably don't want to jeopardize their reputation by not paying) has bid $25,500.00. The auction ends in two days, so it could go higher.
A bid is a contract to pay. It's not just fun - you can't say you were just joking, and anyone with a score over two digits will know that. You don't pay, you could get sued, and you will lose.
The seller is actually going to get over $20,000 for an empty condom packet, a photo of panties (it was originally the actual panties, but eBay doesn't allow the sale of used underwear), and a story! The story isn't even well written, and there's no guarantee that it's true.
How much does a professional writer get for a published short story?
I don't have a very good imagination. If someone reading this would like to try coming up with an amazing story, I'll provide the items to go with the story and list it on eBay (my feedback is close to 3000, all positive), and we'll split the take 50-50.
What a scam! It's perfectly legal, and you're being up front with the volunteer marks. They're just stupid. Consider it a service to mankind.
.
There's an empty condom package and a photo of panties, and the story of why they're up for auction. at http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=250280309940.
Ok, fun.
But it has gone beyond fun. As of right now, there have been 93 bids from 53 bidders, and a bidder with a feedback score of 1012 (which means they actually buy or sell stuff, and probably don't want to jeopardize their reputation by not paying) has bid $25,500.00. The auction ends in two days, so it could go higher.
A bid is a contract to pay. It's not just fun - you can't say you were just joking, and anyone with a score over two digits will know that. You don't pay, you could get sued, and you will lose.
The seller is actually going to get over $20,000 for an empty condom packet, a photo of panties (it was originally the actual panties, but eBay doesn't allow the sale of used underwear), and a story! The story isn't even well written, and there's no guarantee that it's true.
How much does a professional writer get for a published short story?
I don't have a very good imagination. If someone reading this would like to try coming up with an amazing story, I'll provide the items to go with the story and list it on eBay (my feedback is close to 3000, all positive), and we'll split the take 50-50.
What a scam! It's perfectly legal, and you're being up front with the volunteer marks. They're just stupid. Consider it a service to mankind.
.
1955 Another Car
Don't know how I missed this one:
Mazda Miata. It's a bit plain, but I like Mazdas, dealership is close, deals could be made:
Mazda Miata. It's a bit plain, but I like Mazdas, dealership is close, deals could be made:
1954 Disturbing
There's a set of TV commercials for some kind of chicken sandwiches, wherein a cow is angry at a man for "cheating on her".
Does anyone else find that disturbing? The "cheating on" the cow, I mean? One wonders what their relationship was, exactly. Ick. Ick ick!
An alternate interpretation is that the cow was angry because the man killed and ate a chicken instead of killing and eating her? That's not the first thing one thinks, and then when you back up and think it, it doesn't feel likely, and we're back to ick.
Don't they have meetings on commercials before they're approved? Doesn't anyone say, "Uh, hey, ICK!"
.
Does anyone else find that disturbing? The "cheating on" the cow, I mean? One wonders what their relationship was, exactly. Ick. Ick ick!
An alternate interpretation is that the cow was angry because the man killed and ate a chicken instead of killing and eating her? That's not the first thing one thinks, and then when you back up and think it, it doesn't feel likely, and we're back to ick.
Don't they have meetings on commercials before they're approved? Doesn't anyone say, "Uh, hey, ICK!"
.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
1953 Small Progress on Taxes
Thursday, August 14, 2008
One of the uses of journaling is to force linear thinking on a scattered mind. Sometimes it even works.
I think I figured out something on the taxes. The tax owed is $5,000. The Angel says I have to send only (only?) $3,000 instead of the $5,000 the amended form shows because the IRS assumes they cut a check to me for $2,000 on the original return, which I would have to pay back. But I didn't get a check for $2,000, so I don't have to pay it back.
That's not what the amendment says, but I think that's what the interpretation is.
That's one question answered, but the total tax impact of the additional $15,000 income is still too high. It's still $6,000 over the original total tax due.
A second issue I have to address with Piper is that the total income is much higher than I expected. I sold some stock last spring, which was then reinvested in mutual funds and bonds. Selling the stock produced taxable capital gains, which would be taxed at the long-term rate. I am aware of the amount of gains from those sales. But the total income is MUCH higher than those gains would explain. Therefore, um, has Piper been "thrashing" my investments, producing a high amount of short term gains? Which are taxed at a significantly higher rate? And might that explain my way-too-high bracket? That high percent could be half short-term capitol gains tax.
The last few investment company statements seemed to indicate some thrashing. That doesn't mean bad. I know that we've been doing some balancing based on stock opportunities, and I know he moved a significant investment because a particular fund manager resigned. Several bonds reached maturity, too, but I don't think they generate capital gains.
I guess I'd better find out what's going on. It can't be too bad, because in this lousy market I've been gaining, not losing, but I'd gain more if I lost less to taxes.
.
One of the uses of journaling is to force linear thinking on a scattered mind. Sometimes it even works.
I think I figured out something on the taxes. The tax owed is $5,000. The Angel says I have to send only (only?) $3,000 instead of the $5,000 the amended form shows because the IRS assumes they cut a check to me for $2,000 on the original return, which I would have to pay back. But I didn't get a check for $2,000, so I don't have to pay it back.
That's not what the amendment says, but I think that's what the interpretation is.
That's one question answered, but the total tax impact of the additional $15,000 income is still too high. It's still $6,000 over the original total tax due.
A second issue I have to address with Piper is that the total income is much higher than I expected. I sold some stock last spring, which was then reinvested in mutual funds and bonds. Selling the stock produced taxable capital gains, which would be taxed at the long-term rate. I am aware of the amount of gains from those sales. But the total income is MUCH higher than those gains would explain. Therefore, um, has Piper been "thrashing" my investments, producing a high amount of short term gains? Which are taxed at a significantly higher rate? And might that explain my way-too-high bracket? That high percent could be half short-term capitol gains tax.
The last few investment company statements seemed to indicate some thrashing. That doesn't mean bad. I know that we've been doing some balancing based on stock opportunities, and I know he moved a significant investment because a particular fund manager resigned. Several bonds reached maturity, too, but I don't think they generate capital gains.
I guess I'd better find out what's going on. It can't be too bad, because in this lousy market I've been gaining, not losing, but I'd gain more if I lost less to taxes.
.
1952 Taxes, Still!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Well, if I ever drop out of sight, look for me in prison, convicted of tax evasion.
My 2007 taxes are still a mess.
I got all the info to The Angel (the CPA and Piper's business partner), in early April. Something to keep in mind, The Angel doesn't deal with people. Piper does all the people talking, and The Angel does only numbers. So I don't get to talk to The Angel. Everything goes through Piper.
The Angel was backed up, and my taxes are a bit involved (even though what I give him is complete, neatly sorted, paper clipped, and labeled) because we also plan for the next year's investments at the same time. I shrugged and said no problem, go ahead and apply for an extension.
Now, when you get an extension, if you owe anything, you still have to pay it by April 15! When The Angel didn't come back to me for a check by the 15th, I figured either I didn't owe anything (I usually get a very small refund) or that The Angel had got the money from my account with Piper.
I am also supposed to pay the 2008 estimated taxes by April 15, but I got nothing from The Angel as to how much. Piper said not to worry about it, that the 2007 refunds applied to 2008 would cover it.
In mid June, I finally got to see the 1040s, which The Angel had already filed electronically. According to that form, I got a $2,000 refund from the federal, which was applied to 2008 taxes, and I owed the state $500 (all figures rounded). I asked Piper if the state had been paid, and to my horror, he said no.
(Now, it was about that time, just before or just after, that I was at the gas station across the street, and saw/overheard Piper and The Angel having one heck of a shouting match outside the office, with the word "taxes" clearly audible.)
When I reviewed the 1040 in Piper's office, I discovered that The Angel had completely omitted $15,000 in income. The 1099 was there, but he'd skipped right over it. I freaked. I gave the forms back to Piper to give to The Angel to redo, keeping only the quarterly slips for the 2008 estimated payments, which were due in Mid-June, and which I paid.
Ok. So far, I have no idea how much I owe the IRS or NYS, but I know I'm at least six months delinquent on the NYS payment. In addition, I've missed at least one NYS 2008 estimated tax payment (the federal would have been paid from the refund, although the amount of that refund is now suspect), and the estimated payments I made in June were based on an incorrect estimate, so I'm probably to some degree delinquent on them, too.
I'm not feeling so good.
In mid-July I get a nasty letter from the state. They want their $500, now! Piper said to wait until I got the amended returns.
In the last few days of July, I got to see the amended returns. However, The Angel had given Piper only the amendment pages, not the original returns. When I looked at them, it was obvious that there was something very wrong. Very. I couldn't remember what the original numbers were, exactly, but somehow, with the addition of $15,000 in income, I now owe the IRS $5,000 (I seemed to recall a $2,000 refund on the originals), and I now owe the state $300 (I seemed to recall that it had been more like $500). It didn't feel at all right.
Ack!
Again, no checks had been sent.
Piper couldn't explain the discrepancies.
I left the forms with Piper, and asked him to check with The Angel.
What I'm getting back is very garbled. He says I owe less on the state because I get a "bye" on $18,000 of income because I'm over 62. (Huh? I was over 62 when they did the first 1040s. Did he forget it then?) In addition, according to Piper, I don't really owe the IRS $5,000, I owe only $3,000, because --- and this I don't I don't understand AT ALL! --- I had a $2,000 refund on the first pass. That doesn't sound right.
They way *I* see it, the $2,000 refund on the first pass was incorrect, because it didn't take into consideration the $15,000 additional income. So the amended return shows me owing $7,000 more than the original return, right? $2,000 of which is paid by withholding and estimated tax payment, and $5,000 of which I still owe.
What this means is that if I owe $7,000 additional tax on $15,000 additional income (from which $1,000 had been withheld, by the way, so my already paid amount went up, too), I paid $8,000 additional tax on $15,000 additional income, which puts me in like a 53% tax bracket. No way!
I'm not feeling so good.
Something is very wrong.
I guess I'm going to just pay what The Angel says I owe, and if the IRS or the state gets upset, he'll have to defend it, and he'll have to pay any monetary penalties.
'Cept, he doesn't get to go to jail. I do.
Sigh.
.
Well, if I ever drop out of sight, look for me in prison, convicted of tax evasion.
My 2007 taxes are still a mess.
I got all the info to The Angel (the CPA and Piper's business partner), in early April. Something to keep in mind, The Angel doesn't deal with people. Piper does all the people talking, and The Angel does only numbers. So I don't get to talk to The Angel. Everything goes through Piper.
The Angel was backed up, and my taxes are a bit involved (even though what I give him is complete, neatly sorted, paper clipped, and labeled) because we also plan for the next year's investments at the same time. I shrugged and said no problem, go ahead and apply for an extension.
Now, when you get an extension, if you owe anything, you still have to pay it by April 15! When The Angel didn't come back to me for a check by the 15th, I figured either I didn't owe anything (I usually get a very small refund) or that The Angel had got the money from my account with Piper.
I am also supposed to pay the 2008 estimated taxes by April 15, but I got nothing from The Angel as to how much. Piper said not to worry about it, that the 2007 refunds applied to 2008 would cover it.
In mid June, I finally got to see the 1040s, which The Angel had already filed electronically. According to that form, I got a $2,000 refund from the federal, which was applied to 2008 taxes, and I owed the state $500 (all figures rounded). I asked Piper if the state had been paid, and to my horror, he said no.
(Now, it was about that time, just before or just after, that I was at the gas station across the street, and saw/overheard Piper and The Angel having one heck of a shouting match outside the office, with the word "taxes" clearly audible.)
When I reviewed the 1040 in Piper's office, I discovered that The Angel had completely omitted $15,000 in income. The 1099 was there, but he'd skipped right over it. I freaked. I gave the forms back to Piper to give to The Angel to redo, keeping only the quarterly slips for the 2008 estimated payments, which were due in Mid-June, and which I paid.
Ok. So far, I have no idea how much I owe the IRS or NYS, but I know I'm at least six months delinquent on the NYS payment. In addition, I've missed at least one NYS 2008 estimated tax payment (the federal would have been paid from the refund, although the amount of that refund is now suspect), and the estimated payments I made in June were based on an incorrect estimate, so I'm probably to some degree delinquent on them, too.
I'm not feeling so good.
In mid-July I get a nasty letter from the state. They want their $500, now! Piper said to wait until I got the amended returns.
In the last few days of July, I got to see the amended returns. However, The Angel had given Piper only the amendment pages, not the original returns. When I looked at them, it was obvious that there was something very wrong. Very. I couldn't remember what the original numbers were, exactly, but somehow, with the addition of $15,000 in income, I now owe the IRS $5,000 (I seemed to recall a $2,000 refund on the originals), and I now owe the state $300 (I seemed to recall that it had been more like $500). It didn't feel at all right.
Ack!
Again, no checks had been sent.
Piper couldn't explain the discrepancies.
I left the forms with Piper, and asked him to check with The Angel.
What I'm getting back is very garbled. He says I owe less on the state because I get a "bye" on $18,000 of income because I'm over 62. (Huh? I was over 62 when they did the first 1040s. Did he forget it then?) In addition, according to Piper, I don't really owe the IRS $5,000, I owe only $3,000, because --- and this I don't I don't understand AT ALL! --- I had a $2,000 refund on the first pass. That doesn't sound right.
They way *I* see it, the $2,000 refund on the first pass was incorrect, because it didn't take into consideration the $15,000 additional income. So the amended return shows me owing $7,000 more than the original return, right? $2,000 of which is paid by withholding and estimated tax payment, and $5,000 of which I still owe.
What this means is that if I owe $7,000 additional tax on $15,000 additional income (from which $1,000 had been withheld, by the way, so my already paid amount went up, too), I paid $8,000 additional tax on $15,000 additional income, which puts me in like a 53% tax bracket. No way!
I'm not feeling so good.
Something is very wrong.
I guess I'm going to just pay what The Angel says I owe, and if the IRS or the state gets upset, he'll have to defend it, and he'll have to pay any monetary penalties.
'Cept, he doesn't get to go to jail. I do.
Sigh.
.
1951 More cars
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Still doing the preliminary car exploration. (The first set of cars is here.) Second set follows.
I mentioned to Piper today that I really wanted the Porsche, but it didn't look like I could get it, because the nearest dealerships are White Plains and Schenectady, and I don't want to make 3 hour round-trips for those warranty-preserving oil changes. (There used to be a dealership in Poughkeepsie, but it died about the same time IBM laid off 11,000+ local people). Maybe there's an authorized service station near here, but if not, that's a showstopper.
Piper was funny. He really wants me to get the Porsche now, and was so frustrated by my propinquity requirement that I think he was ready to advise me to move to White Plains.
An old sports car passed us while we were walking, and stopped at the stoplight, and I jumped up and down, "THAT's what I want! I want a one-a them!" Piper said it was a Triumph TR6, but I think it was a MG. This one (in green! Green green! MGs must be green!):
Unfortunately, you need to be a little more familiar with wrenches than I am to own a 55 year-old car. But damn, that's perfect!
So, back to practical, I found a few more cars.
Toyota Solara. It's a little too big. I want a two seater. But it looks nice:
Mercedes SLK. Right size, disappointing gas mileage, a bit too rounded ("eggy"), but with the right deal, I'd consider it:
Honda S2000. I find it a little prissy looking. Maybe because the windshield is so upright:
Chrysler Crossfire. This one looks like a definite contender. It's got exactly the right look. Mark for further research:
Saab. A nice healthy safe car with all the right words in the reviews, but too big. Those back seats. Tsk:
Volvo C70. Top ratings, but too big. Jay and his father always drove Volvos. Young Daughter misunderstood and called them "Waldo"s. I didn't correct her. Plus, I've always thought that strip across the grill looked like a bandaid. Ok, so I do have some prejudices:
Ford Shelby (dippy name). It's based on the Mustang. I like the rollbar, but that's about all. It makes me think "pickup truck":
Audi Quattro. I don't know. It looks a little boxy, but that could be the photo. I may need to see this one up close before I know which list to put it on:
So now I think I've found all the small convertibles available, excepting of course the overpriced "European playboy" racing models, and the not-sporty stuff like the PT Cruiser and VW. I'll cut it down to four or five, and start reading reviews, then cut it to three and start test driving. I may not buy until spring, why buy a convertible as winter is starting**, but I want to be ready.
(**Answer to that question: because showrooms will be anxious to get rid of convertibles when winter is starting. Remember - I don't pay retail....)
.
Still doing the preliminary car exploration. (The first set of cars is here.) Second set follows.
I mentioned to Piper today that I really wanted the Porsche, but it didn't look like I could get it, because the nearest dealerships are White Plains and Schenectady, and I don't want to make 3 hour round-trips for those warranty-preserving oil changes. (There used to be a dealership in Poughkeepsie, but it died about the same time IBM laid off 11,000+ local people). Maybe there's an authorized service station near here, but if not, that's a showstopper.
Piper was funny. He really wants me to get the Porsche now, and was so frustrated by my propinquity requirement that I think he was ready to advise me to move to White Plains.
An old sports car passed us while we were walking, and stopped at the stoplight, and I jumped up and down, "THAT's what I want! I want a one-a them!" Piper said it was a Triumph TR6, but I think it was a MG. This one (in green! Green green! MGs must be green!):
Unfortunately, you need to be a little more familiar with wrenches than I am to own a 55 year-old car. But damn, that's perfect!
So, back to practical, I found a few more cars.
Toyota Solara. It's a little too big. I want a two seater. But it looks nice:
Mercedes SLK. Right size, disappointing gas mileage, a bit too rounded ("eggy"), but with the right deal, I'd consider it:
Honda S2000. I find it a little prissy looking. Maybe because the windshield is so upright:
Chrysler Crossfire. This one looks like a definite contender. It's got exactly the right look. Mark for further research:
Saab. A nice healthy safe car with all the right words in the reviews, but too big. Those back seats. Tsk:
Volvo C70. Top ratings, but too big. Jay and his father always drove Volvos. Young Daughter misunderstood and called them "Waldo"s. I didn't correct her. Plus, I've always thought that strip across the grill looked like a bandaid. Ok, so I do have some prejudices:
Ford Shelby (dippy name). It's based on the Mustang. I like the rollbar, but that's about all. It makes me think "pickup truck":
Audi Quattro. I don't know. It looks a little boxy, but that could be the photo. I may need to see this one up close before I know which list to put it on:
So now I think I've found all the small convertibles available, excepting of course the overpriced "European playboy" racing models, and the not-sporty stuff like the PT Cruiser and VW. I'll cut it down to four or five, and start reading reviews, then cut it to three and start test driving. I may not buy until spring, why buy a convertible as winter is starting**, but I want to be ready.
(**Answer to that question: because showrooms will be anxious to get rid of convertibles when winter is starting. Remember - I don't pay retail....)
.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
1950 Badminton
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
I like playing badminton (why does no one ever pronounce the first "n"?), but I've never understood people who play to win. In my world, the object of the game is to see if we can keep the birdie flying as long as possible.
.
I like playing badminton (why does no one ever pronounce the first "n"?), but I've never understood people who play to win. In my world, the object of the game is to see if we can keep the birdie flying as long as possible.
.
1949 Affordable! Flood! Fail!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
I've always been interested in looking at houses. I often pick up those real estate sales booklets stacked at the grocery store entry. I've been shocked at the prices, everywhere. Even what I would call a hunting cabin, three rooms in the middle of nowhere, is priced at over $250,000. The housing market is supposed to be so bad, but it hasn't brought prices down by much, not in this area, anyhow.
Then I found "It's Lovely! I'll Take it!" (with cheeky comments on photos chosen for listings) where I can explore houses all over the US and Canada, and it looks like houses are way overpriced everywhere, not just here.
Today I found an exception - the Mohawk Valley area of upstate New York, the Palatine Bridge area, only about an hour from Albany and Saratoga. These listings show several large beautiful houses at shockingly reasonable prices. The interiors look like they've been inhabited by little old ladies with a penchant for doilies, but that's not a bad thing if you don't mind stripping wallpaper and repainting cabinets.
I wonder why that area has escaped the craziness.
----------------------------
Not a comment on the previous topic, I hope, but today's TV news was full of clips of the flooding north of here. It looks really bad, with creeks overflowing so violently that they're ripping 11' diameter culverts right out of the ground, and washing foundations out from under bridges and houses. It's not like the rising-water river-overflow type flood. This water created new river beds, moving fast, finding new paths for itself, ripping through towns and villages.
Down here, we've had a lot of lightning and thunder, but with the exception of yesterday, very little rain. Up there, they've had a lot.
I'm very glad I live high on a ridge, even if it does mean I need an electric-assist bicycle to get home from a ride.
-----------------------------
Sigh. I've got to stop this internet life. Found another time vortex - "Fail Blog". It's all those little things that just didn't come out the way we'd planned. Like the design for this straw:
I don't think I'd want my kid sucking on it.
.
I've always been interested in looking at houses. I often pick up those real estate sales booklets stacked at the grocery store entry. I've been shocked at the prices, everywhere. Even what I would call a hunting cabin, three rooms in the middle of nowhere, is priced at over $250,000. The housing market is supposed to be so bad, but it hasn't brought prices down by much, not in this area, anyhow.
Then I found "It's Lovely! I'll Take it!" (with cheeky comments on photos chosen for listings) where I can explore houses all over the US and Canada, and it looks like houses are way overpriced everywhere, not just here.
Today I found an exception - the Mohawk Valley area of upstate New York, the Palatine Bridge area, only about an hour from Albany and Saratoga. These listings show several large beautiful houses at shockingly reasonable prices. The interiors look like they've been inhabited by little old ladies with a penchant for doilies, but that's not a bad thing if you don't mind stripping wallpaper and repainting cabinets.
I wonder why that area has escaped the craziness.
----------------------------
Not a comment on the previous topic, I hope, but today's TV news was full of clips of the flooding north of here. It looks really bad, with creeks overflowing so violently that they're ripping 11' diameter culverts right out of the ground, and washing foundations out from under bridges and houses. It's not like the rising-water river-overflow type flood. This water created new river beds, moving fast, finding new paths for itself, ripping through towns and villages.
Down here, we've had a lot of lightning and thunder, but with the exception of yesterday, very little rain. Up there, they've had a lot.
I'm very glad I live high on a ridge, even if it does mean I need an electric-assist bicycle to get home from a ride.
-----------------------------
Sigh. I've got to stop this internet life. Found another time vortex - "Fail Blog". It's all those little things that just didn't come out the way we'd planned. Like the design for this straw:
I don't think I'd want my kid sucking on it.
.
Monday, August 11, 2008
1948 Lost Monday
Monday, August 11, 2008
Mom, at 17, high school graduation:
Today is the 85th anniversary of my mother's birth. She died when she was just four years older than I am now, after many years of declining health due to congestive heart failure. When she was younger, she always said that she planned to die before 65, because she never wanted to get "old". I think she was surprised when she made it to 67. And by then, well, she was old.
Our state of health and state of mind have a lot to do with how old we look and feel, and our state of mind has a lot to do with the state of our health.
Like my mother, I don't intend to get old. But unlike her, I'm going to do it by staying young.
.
Mom, at 17, high school graduation:
Today is the 85th anniversary of my mother's birth. She died when she was just four years older than I am now, after many years of declining health due to congestive heart failure. When she was younger, she always said that she planned to die before 65, because she never wanted to get "old". I think she was surprised when she made it to 67. And by then, well, she was old.
Our state of health and state of mind have a lot to do with how old we look and feel, and our state of mind has a lot to do with the state of our health.
Like my mother, I don't intend to get old. But unlike her, I'm going to do it by staying young.
.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
1947 Water, Car Shopping, Angst
Sunday, August 10, 2008
I turned the A/C off about two weeks ago. I got tired of turning on the faucet or shower, or flushing a toilet, and getting only an intermittent dribble. I finally threw in the towel after two days of no water at all. I suspect that after two months of water running through the heat pump constantly, the filter was full of silt from the well, so the heat pump was taking all the water that could get through.
There followed a few days of 80+ degrees in the house, but since then, it's been fine. I opened windows at either end of the house, popped the attic hatch so the attic exhaust fan could draw through the house, and set up fans in the den and the kitchen. Sometimes now at night it actually gets cold.
The water has yet not fully recovered. I'm getting about half of the expected volume from the faucets. I'm going to have to clean the filter, I guess, and perhaps recharge the cold water tank pressure. If that doesn't fix it, I'll have to have the pipes flushed. Oh, joy. Real A/C installed this fall, I swear.
---------------------------
Well, I've received the first dispersement from Jay's father's estate. Time to go car shopping. I want a small fast sports car, two seats, or two with a small bench in the back for groceries and stuff. Convertible, a soft top so I still have a full trunk. Preferably manual shift. Not over-decorated, not boxy looking, but not too rounded, either. Low, wide, and fast looking. Reliable, of course. Availability of a local dealership/service is preferred. Price isn't a factor in the purchase, but it IS for the ongoing insurance and maintenance costs, so preferably mid-range
I always look twice at Corvettes. I like their looks, but the word I'm getting is that people who know cars aren't too impressed with what's under the hood. One that always stops me on the street is the Porsche Boxter. It's not as expensive as the name would suggest. Piper wants me to go BMW (Bleck!). He also thinks I should lease instead of buy. Piper's buddies recommend Saturn. The Man drives a Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder. I have been in love with the idea of a Lotus since 1969, but the current design is the epitome of over-decorated, which is lucky for me, because if I liked it, I'd be tempted to spend WAY over budget. So far, the cars I'm considering cost about the same as what I paid in 2001 for the handicap-equipped van out there in the driveway now.
Here's the selection so far. Comments? Advice? Further suggestions?
Corvette - what I like best is that it's wide and low:
Porsche Boxter - low nose, pure sport:
BMW - looks too much like a coupe:
Saturn - somehow I think bee-stung nose:
Mitsubishi - like, but may be swayed by associated good memories:
Lotus - see what I mean by over-decorated? Just too much glop:
---------------------------
Today marks the first full week in a long time that The Man and I haven't gotten together. We'd managed to get together at least once a week lately, which is nice. When I see him, my feelings are renewed. But when I haven't seen him in about 10 days, it starts to wear off, and I start wondering again. I don't know what that means. The longer the separation, the more I start thinking that there's no way this is going anywhere, and I'm wasting time, and I really should move on. And then I see him again, and fall in love all over again, and I think well, I'll enjoy this as much as I can, for as long as I can, and maybe that might be a long time. I go through that cycle a lot.
I feel really good when I'm with him. I don't get that same feeling when I look at his picture. The face in photographs is almost a stranger - photos of him actually don't look like him. His face is a different shape from that in photos. Maybe it's that his eyes in photos don't have the same pull. His face in photos doesn't have the same vulnerability it shows in person. So looking at photos brings nothing back to me, feeling-wise. Then I hear his voice on the phone and it starts all over again. I have a strong response to his voice. He has a very masculine voice.
Piper would say The Man's towing a trailerload of baggage, as if that's a bad thing. Maybe in the end it will be. But right now, when I see him, I want to help pull the load. When I haven't seen him for too long, I think about that trailer breaking loose and running over us, and I realize that I do have a choice whether to stand in its path or not. (What I really want to do is unload the damn trailer and leave it all on the side of the road, but that isn't going to happen without a mallet big enough to cause amnesia. And I suspect that might mess him up a bit.)
Fate has been throwing men at me lately, as if to say, "Look, you have viable choices, closer to your interests, closer to your age, closer to your temperament, Hell, just closer!" She keeps tempting me. That's another thing I haven't been talking or writing about. Seems like it's feast or famine, and hey, Fate, I'm on a diet right now. I cannot and will not juggle men. One at a time. Cut it out!
I don't understand me. There's no logic in any of it. Maybe it's hypnosis. Maybe it's sex. I'm pretty sure that if the sex weren't so good, I'd have wandered off by now. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that if he lost the ability while I was still with him, I'd stick by him.
No logic.
.
I turned the A/C off about two weeks ago. I got tired of turning on the faucet or shower, or flushing a toilet, and getting only an intermittent dribble. I finally threw in the towel after two days of no water at all. I suspect that after two months of water running through the heat pump constantly, the filter was full of silt from the well, so the heat pump was taking all the water that could get through.
There followed a few days of 80+ degrees in the house, but since then, it's been fine. I opened windows at either end of the house, popped the attic hatch so the attic exhaust fan could draw through the house, and set up fans in the den and the kitchen. Sometimes now at night it actually gets cold.
The water has yet not fully recovered. I'm getting about half of the expected volume from the faucets. I'm going to have to clean the filter, I guess, and perhaps recharge the cold water tank pressure. If that doesn't fix it, I'll have to have the pipes flushed. Oh, joy. Real A/C installed this fall, I swear.
---------------------------
Well, I've received the first dispersement from Jay's father's estate. Time to go car shopping. I want a small fast sports car, two seats, or two with a small bench in the back for groceries and stuff. Convertible, a soft top so I still have a full trunk. Preferably manual shift. Not over-decorated, not boxy looking, but not too rounded, either. Low, wide, and fast looking. Reliable, of course. Availability of a local dealership/service is preferred. Price isn't a factor in the purchase, but it IS for the ongoing insurance and maintenance costs, so preferably mid-range
I always look twice at Corvettes. I like their looks, but the word I'm getting is that people who know cars aren't too impressed with what's under the hood. One that always stops me on the street is the Porsche Boxter. It's not as expensive as the name would suggest. Piper wants me to go BMW (Bleck!). He also thinks I should lease instead of buy. Piper's buddies recommend Saturn. The Man drives a Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder. I have been in love with the idea of a Lotus since 1969, but the current design is the epitome of over-decorated, which is lucky for me, because if I liked it, I'd be tempted to spend WAY over budget. So far, the cars I'm considering cost about the same as what I paid in 2001 for the handicap-equipped van out there in the driveway now.
Here's the selection so far. Comments? Advice? Further suggestions?
Corvette - what I like best is that it's wide and low:
Porsche Boxter - low nose, pure sport:
BMW - looks too much like a coupe:
Saturn - somehow I think bee-stung nose:
Mitsubishi - like, but may be swayed by associated good memories:
Lotus - see what I mean by over-decorated? Just too much glop:
---------------------------Today marks the first full week in a long time that The Man and I haven't gotten together. We'd managed to get together at least once a week lately, which is nice. When I see him, my feelings are renewed. But when I haven't seen him in about 10 days, it starts to wear off, and I start wondering again. I don't know what that means. The longer the separation, the more I start thinking that there's no way this is going anywhere, and I'm wasting time, and I really should move on. And then I see him again, and fall in love all over again, and I think well, I'll enjoy this as much as I can, for as long as I can, and maybe that might be a long time. I go through that cycle a lot.
I feel really good when I'm with him. I don't get that same feeling when I look at his picture. The face in photographs is almost a stranger - photos of him actually don't look like him. His face is a different shape from that in photos. Maybe it's that his eyes in photos don't have the same pull. His face in photos doesn't have the same vulnerability it shows in person. So looking at photos brings nothing back to me, feeling-wise. Then I hear his voice on the phone and it starts all over again. I have a strong response to his voice. He has a very masculine voice.
Piper would say The Man's towing a trailerload of baggage, as if that's a bad thing. Maybe in the end it will be. But right now, when I see him, I want to help pull the load. When I haven't seen him for too long, I think about that trailer breaking loose and running over us, and I realize that I do have a choice whether to stand in its path or not. (What I really want to do is unload the damn trailer and leave it all on the side of the road, but that isn't going to happen without a mallet big enough to cause amnesia. And I suspect that might mess him up a bit.)
Fate has been throwing men at me lately, as if to say, "Look, you have viable choices, closer to your interests, closer to your age, closer to your temperament, Hell, just closer!" She keeps tempting me. That's another thing I haven't been talking or writing about. Seems like it's feast or famine, and hey, Fate, I'm on a diet right now. I cannot and will not juggle men. One at a time. Cut it out!
I don't understand me. There's no logic in any of it. Maybe it's hypnosis. Maybe it's sex. I'm pretty sure that if the sex weren't so good, I'd have wandered off by now. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that if he lost the ability while I was still with him, I'd stick by him.
No logic.
.
1946 Shoot to kill
Sunday, August 10, 2008
It has occurred to me that some people may not recognize the "We come in peace. Shoot to kill, shoot to kill" reference in my previous post.
It comes from this: (Cheesy, but funny. Enjoy.)
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGyU3d66mXE If you click on this link, then on the "more info" on the right, you'll find the complete lyrics.]
Actually, "It's life, Jim, but not as we know it, not as we know it, not as we know it," might have been a more apt choice for that post.
.
It has occurred to me that some people may not recognize the "We come in peace. Shoot to kill, shoot to kill" reference in my previous post.
It comes from this: (Cheesy, but funny. Enjoy.)
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGyU3d66mXE If you click on this link, then on the "more info" on the right, you'll find the complete lyrics.]
Actually, "It's life, Jim, but not as we know it, not as we know it, not as we know it," might have been a more apt choice for that post.
.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
1945 Frustrating Omissions
Saturday, August 9, 2008
I dove into the village after dark this evening. Now I have a huge bat-shaped dust mark on my windshield. It hit so hard I was surprised the glass didn't break. On my way past the spot going home a few minutes later, I looked to see if the beasty was lying on or near the road, but there was nothing. Maybe it was a vampire (unkillable, you know).
---------------------------
I've been a bit frustrated lately because when I started this journal, I meant for it to chronicle the events in my life, what I'm doing and what I'm thinking, everything I come across. I wanted to be completely open.
That was all ruined one year ago, when I discovered that the biggest gossip I knew locally had found it, and was handing out the URL, and I had to move it.
I'm sort of hidden now, mostly, maybe, I think. I hope. But there are a few people subscribed through Bloglines, and a few through Google-whatsis, and who knows how-wise else, and I don't know who they are.
So I have become somewhat circumspect. I'm still sensitive to the wrong people finding it.
But it's incredibly frustrating! There are things I want to write about that I can't! The stories I have to tell! Oh, the opinions I have that I can't express! "We come in peace. Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!"
In an attempt to give some release to my frustration, I started another journal on my hard disk, for my eyes only, where I can reveal the most amazing things. Someday, if anybody ever finds it, it might make a great novel.
I have never in my life been able to keep a secret. Everybody who knows me well knows that. When I re-found one of my best college friends a few years ago, I was floored by some of the things that had gone on back then among my best friends, that I knew nothing about - because no one told me, because they knew I couldn't keep a secret.
Maybe it's because there are no secrets** in my own life. I'm completely open. That kind of keeps me from doing anything I'm ashamed of, and maybe I apply that same standard to others. One problem this has caused is that when people hear about mild things, they assume that if I let that out, how much worse am I hiding, so they make things up. I've heard some of the most amazing things about myself, which people swear they know to be true.
[**There was one exception - one very big secret that I kept for 30 years, but only because no one involved asked. The first time I was asked, I spilled it all, and was very relieved.]
Right now I'm not writing or talking about an ongoing scam I'm watching. I've never seen anything like it in my life. The scammer is the best I've ever seen, and I've seen a few. We're talking PHD. My psycho ex-girlfriend is a kindergartener by comparison. The target of the scam is a willing victim, and won't listen to reason. There's a chance I'm wrong, so I'm not pushing it, and not knowing who might be reading, I can't "talk" about it. But it really is fascinating to watch. If it seems to go too far, well, I don't know what I'll do. I suspect that interference would not be welcomed.
Right now I'm not writing or talking about a mystery unfolding, with a hero and a villain, but no one is absolutely sure which is which. It's one of the most intriguing stories I've ever heard. One or both of them is seriously disturbed, but who can be sure which? Can they, themselves, be sure? The deeper insanity becomes, the more consistent it becomes, until it wraps around and looks like sanity. (And no, one of them is not Zig. Nor FW, either.) Every time I am confident in which is the hero, a new question comes up. If I don't chose correctly, I could get hurt.
Right now I'm not writing or talking about a dear friend who seems to be going through some kind of midlife crisis or something, which is causing a sort of absentmindedness, that might ultimately cost customers and the business. I'm very worried. All I can do is provide an ear.
Right now I'm not writing or talking about The Man, other than to note when I've seen him, and the lightest of references. He knows this journal exists, and for all I know could be reading it (one of those Bloglines or Google folks?). He says he doesn't want to read it because he doesn't want to read about "us". So that's part of my restraint - I don't want him to read my thoughts about "us" either. But there's a lot more. There are a LOT of confusing things, and confusing feelings, and I don't even know where to start. So I haven't. With anyone. Not even him, although I have tried, and every time something intervened. No one else knows anything, really, not even his real name. All anyone knows is that I'm involved with a man.
[And for anyone who has been around a while, this story is even better than the Roman story (although it has nothing in common), so you know how crazy it's got to be making me.]
Right now I'm also not writing or talking about a few other things going on, because, well, just because. I've proven I can keep a 30-year secret. I guess I can keep a few more.
The necessity is all very frustrating. This post is the proof.
Sometimes when I drive through residential areas at night, and I see lights on behind curtains, I wonder what stories are beyond those curtains. Some of the calmest exteriors hide the most horrific tales. People thought my parents were charming.
I'll shut up now. Curtains closed.
.
I dove into the village after dark this evening. Now I have a huge bat-shaped dust mark on my windshield. It hit so hard I was surprised the glass didn't break. On my way past the spot going home a few minutes later, I looked to see if the beasty was lying on or near the road, but there was nothing. Maybe it was a vampire (unkillable, you know).
---------------------------
I've been a bit frustrated lately because when I started this journal, I meant for it to chronicle the events in my life, what I'm doing and what I'm thinking, everything I come across. I wanted to be completely open.
That was all ruined one year ago, when I discovered that the biggest gossip I knew locally had found it, and was handing out the URL, and I had to move it.
I'm sort of hidden now, mostly, maybe, I think. I hope. But there are a few people subscribed through Bloglines, and a few through Google-whatsis, and who knows how-wise else, and I don't know who they are.
So I have become somewhat circumspect. I'm still sensitive to the wrong people finding it.
But it's incredibly frustrating! There are things I want to write about that I can't! The stories I have to tell! Oh, the opinions I have that I can't express! "We come in peace. Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!"
In an attempt to give some release to my frustration, I started another journal on my hard disk, for my eyes only, where I can reveal the most amazing things. Someday, if anybody ever finds it, it might make a great novel.
I have never in my life been able to keep a secret. Everybody who knows me well knows that. When I re-found one of my best college friends a few years ago, I was floored by some of the things that had gone on back then among my best friends, that I knew nothing about - because no one told me, because they knew I couldn't keep a secret.
Maybe it's because there are no secrets** in my own life. I'm completely open. That kind of keeps me from doing anything I'm ashamed of, and maybe I apply that same standard to others. One problem this has caused is that when people hear about mild things, they assume that if I let that out, how much worse am I hiding, so they make things up. I've heard some of the most amazing things about myself, which people swear they know to be true.
[**There was one exception - one very big secret that I kept for 30 years, but only because no one involved asked. The first time I was asked, I spilled it all, and was very relieved.]
Right now I'm not writing or talking about an ongoing scam I'm watching. I've never seen anything like it in my life. The scammer is the best I've ever seen, and I've seen a few. We're talking PHD. My psycho ex-girlfriend is a kindergartener by comparison. The target of the scam is a willing victim, and won't listen to reason. There's a chance I'm wrong, so I'm not pushing it, and not knowing who might be reading, I can't "talk" about it. But it really is fascinating to watch. If it seems to go too far, well, I don't know what I'll do. I suspect that interference would not be welcomed.
Right now I'm not writing or talking about a mystery unfolding, with a hero and a villain, but no one is absolutely sure which is which. It's one of the most intriguing stories I've ever heard. One or both of them is seriously disturbed, but who can be sure which? Can they, themselves, be sure? The deeper insanity becomes, the more consistent it becomes, until it wraps around and looks like sanity. (And no, one of them is not Zig. Nor FW, either.) Every time I am confident in which is the hero, a new question comes up. If I don't chose correctly, I could get hurt.
Right now I'm not writing or talking about a dear friend who seems to be going through some kind of midlife crisis or something, which is causing a sort of absentmindedness, that might ultimately cost customers and the business. I'm very worried. All I can do is provide an ear.
Right now I'm not writing or talking about The Man, other than to note when I've seen him, and the lightest of references. He knows this journal exists, and for all I know could be reading it (one of those Bloglines or Google folks?). He says he doesn't want to read it because he doesn't want to read about "us". So that's part of my restraint - I don't want him to read my thoughts about "us" either. But there's a lot more. There are a LOT of confusing things, and confusing feelings, and I don't even know where to start. So I haven't. With anyone. Not even him, although I have tried, and every time something intervened. No one else knows anything, really, not even his real name. All anyone knows is that I'm involved with a man.
[And for anyone who has been around a while, this story is even better than the Roman story (although it has nothing in common), so you know how crazy it's got to be making me.]
Right now I'm also not writing or talking about a few other things going on, because, well, just because. I've proven I can keep a 30-year secret. I guess I can keep a few more.
The necessity is all very frustrating. This post is the proof.
Sometimes when I drive through residential areas at night, and I see lights on behind curtains, I wonder what stories are beyond those curtains. Some of the calmest exteriors hide the most horrific tales. People thought my parents were charming.
I'll shut up now. Curtains closed.
.
Friday, August 08, 2008
1944 Thud
Friday, August 8, 2008
Piper said something today about not understanding what is wrong with today's youth, and then we laughed about how we're starting to sound like those "old folks" of our youth, who complained about everything all the time. Oh Good Grief, we're turning into our parents!
Well, yeah.
I guess with age comes experience, and we old folks have seen a lot. We pretty much know by now what works and what doesn't (if we're not stuck in a mental rut), and we're impatient when we see younger people making mistakes, and not accepting our advice because --- we're OLD! Obviously we don't understand "today's issues".
Sigh.
So, another Thud complaint. Category: Useless inventions.
I stopped at the deli to buy a cigarette lighter. They had small opaque ones, larger opaque ones, and transparent ones. I prefer transparent, because I like to know how much fluid is left.
But these transparents looked odd. Usually there are two columns of fluid. These had only one. The other side had something else going on.
I picked one up and examined it, and found a button on the side, which, when pushed, produced a tiny flashlight beam out of the bottom.
The kid behind the counter said, "Wow, that's neat. For like when you have to find a keyhole or something."
I said, "Not really. If it's dark and I'm going to dig in my purse or pocket for a cigarette lighter, I'm going to end up pulling out a cigarette lighter [flicking the flame on], so what would I need a flashlight for?" The kid looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.
And for this, I get half the fluid.
I guess the flashlight could come in handy after I run out of flame, except that I'd have bought another lighter by then.
.
Piper said something today about not understanding what is wrong with today's youth, and then we laughed about how we're starting to sound like those "old folks" of our youth, who complained about everything all the time. Oh Good Grief, we're turning into our parents!
Well, yeah.
I guess with age comes experience, and we old folks have seen a lot. We pretty much know by now what works and what doesn't (if we're not stuck in a mental rut), and we're impatient when we see younger people making mistakes, and not accepting our advice because --- we're OLD! Obviously we don't understand "today's issues".
Sigh.
So, another Thud complaint. Category: Useless inventions.
I stopped at the deli to buy a cigarette lighter. They had small opaque ones, larger opaque ones, and transparent ones. I prefer transparent, because I like to know how much fluid is left.
But these transparents looked odd. Usually there are two columns of fluid. These had only one. The other side had something else going on.
I picked one up and examined it, and found a button on the side, which, when pushed, produced a tiny flashlight beam out of the bottom.
The kid behind the counter said, "Wow, that's neat. For like when you have to find a keyhole or something."
I said, "Not really. If it's dark and I'm going to dig in my purse or pocket for a cigarette lighter, I'm going to end up pulling out a cigarette lighter [flicking the flame on], so what would I need a flashlight for?" The kid looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.
And for this, I get half the fluid.
I guess the flashlight could come in handy after I run out of flame, except that I'd have bought another lighter by then.
.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
1943 Thud and Cringe
Thursday, August 7, 2008
I hope the blogger I'm about to talk about doesn't read this post, and if there's anyone who reads both blogs (and I know there's at least one), I hope you won't alert her. Ok? I don't intend to be mean, and I'm not making fun of her. It's how she's been taught to relate.
I just can't let it go without reacting.
She wrote an entry about exploring an idea, a proposition, a possible approach, with a group of people, I assume in a meeting, like at at conference table. And she ended her proposal with "Does that make sense?"
Aaaaaagh!
This old feminist promptly went into brain-freeze, lost all muscle tone, and slumped in her chair.
Ok everyone, and especially the young women out there, no one, and especially not a woman, especially if the attendees are mostly men, should ever end a proposal with "Does that make sense?" It's asking for validation. All it needed was a wagging tail.
Better to ask if there are any questions, any comments, any additional points to be considered, any suggestions, any objections, anything that needs clarification, whatever.
You MUST ASSUME you make sense. Otherwise you should have kept quiet. And took notes and baked the cookies and got the coffee.
My stomach hurts.
.
I hope the blogger I'm about to talk about doesn't read this post, and if there's anyone who reads both blogs (and I know there's at least one), I hope you won't alert her. Ok? I don't intend to be mean, and I'm not making fun of her. It's how she's been taught to relate.
I just can't let it go without reacting.
She wrote an entry about exploring an idea, a proposition, a possible approach, with a group of people, I assume in a meeting, like at at conference table. And she ended her proposal with "Does that make sense?"
Aaaaaagh!
This old feminist promptly went into brain-freeze, lost all muscle tone, and slumped in her chair.
Ok everyone, and especially the young women out there, no one, and especially not a woman, especially if the attendees are mostly men, should ever end a proposal with "Does that make sense?" It's asking for validation. All it needed was a wagging tail.
Better to ask if there are any questions, any comments, any additional points to be considered, any suggestions, any objections, anything that needs clarification, whatever.
You MUST ASSUME you make sense. Otherwise you should have kept quiet. And took notes and baked the cookies and got the coffee.
My stomach hurts.
.
1942 Lunch
Thursday, August 7, 2008
I like this one:
Although, if it were Jasper, he'd be asking for the back half, "U can haz de frunt haff, Mommy."
.
I like this one:
Although, if it were Jasper, he'd be asking for the back half, "U can haz de frunt haff, Mommy."
.
1941 Internet Has the Flu
Thursday, August 7, 2008
My internet connection was very slow today (yesterday, Wednesday, whatever! Don't confuse me!). Links kept timing out, videos kept going into "connecting...", and my broadband whatsis kept dropping, like every 45 minutes. I was trying to pay my phone bill online tonight, and the line kept dropping, forcing me to start over about six times. I've been very frustrated.
Apparently it's not just me. A few other bloggers have mentioned it. This link was posted on the local Mensa board today, and it may explain what's happening:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/biztech/08/06/internet.security.ap/index.html
Read it. It's scary. If you've been seeing popup ads when you know you absolutely did not click on the ad, and besides, you are blocking popups anyway, well, you've seen it. The slowdown today may be due to cleanup efforts.
At least I hope that's what it is.
Oh, and if you use Sitemeter, check this out: http://mashable.com/2008/08/02/sitemeter-down/?referer=sphere_related_content
.
My internet connection was very slow today (yesterday, Wednesday, whatever! Don't confuse me!). Links kept timing out, videos kept going into "connecting...", and my broadband whatsis kept dropping, like every 45 minutes. I was trying to pay my phone bill online tonight, and the line kept dropping, forcing me to start over about six times. I've been very frustrated.
Apparently it's not just me. A few other bloggers have mentioned it. This link was posted on the local Mensa board today, and it may explain what's happening:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/biztech/08/06/internet.security.ap/index.html
Read it. It's scary. If you've been seeing popup ads when you know you absolutely did not click on the ad, and besides, you are blocking popups anyway, well, you've seen it. The slowdown today may be due to cleanup efforts.
At least I hope that's what it is.
Oh, and if you use Sitemeter, check this out: http://mashable.com/2008/08/02/sitemeter-down/?referer=sphere_related_content
.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
1940 Basic Instructions
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
It's time for me to push my favorite cartoon site again: http://www.basicinstructions.net/
It's time for me to push my favorite cartoon site again: http://www.basicinstructions.net/
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
1939 I'm Baaaaaack!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Heh heh. I haven't written anything in this journal since last Wednesday. Betcha didn't even know.
I was away over the weekend. I used Blogger's predate (or is that postdate?) facility to write a bunch of posts on Wednesday, that were then published on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, as if I was home.
It works! If y'all haven't tried it yet, and if you're using Blogger, click on the blue "post options" in the lower left corner of the edit window, and then just change the date and time.
I joined The Man on Thursday, and we went to a tournament in Pennsylvania. Got home Sunday evening. It was a good trip, even though:
When I got home Sunday, Bloglines and both email accounts were so backed up I didn't get through them until, well, midday today.
The back is feeling a lot better, just a leftover fragility that tweaks me every so often if I move wrong.
I know exactly what's causing it, by the way. The hotel chain The Man always uses is very proud of the fact that they have completely refurbished all rooms in every variation of the chain, --- including the mattresses. The mattresses are now WAY too soft, and they have topped them with a feather bed, which makes it even worse. I absolutely require a firm mattress. The Man is upset because he wants me to be comfortable. He suggested removing the feather bed, but that doesn't matter so much - it's the mattress. I can press my fist 5" into it without even trying. I'm going to search the internet for a narrow folding bedboard. If I put it under the feather bed, that might work.
We had left my car at the Saddle Brook Marriott. While waiting for The Man there on Thursday, I noticed a very thin very friendly black on white female cat hanging around. When we returned on Sunday, she was there again. She meowed at me, rubbed against my ankles, and asked for food. I had opened my car doors to let it cool a bit, and while The Man and I were talking, the cat climbed into my car, and explored it. I briefly but seriously considered just closing the door and adopting her, but The Man said no! He said I can't "go around adopting stray cats from Marriott parking lots!" (That's how I got Jasper.) He actually hung around and shepherded me out of the lot to make sure I didn't snag her after he left.
And now, of course, she's haunting me.
.
Heh heh. I haven't written anything in this journal since last Wednesday. Betcha didn't even know.
I was away over the weekend. I used Blogger's predate (or is that postdate?) facility to write a bunch of posts on Wednesday, that were then published on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, as if I was home.
It works! If y'all haven't tried it yet, and if you're using Blogger, click on the blue "post options" in the lower left corner of the edit window, and then just change the date and time.
I joined The Man on Thursday, and we went to a tournament in Pennsylvania. Got home Sunday evening. It was a good trip, even though:
- we had a flat tire on Friday that required a new rim, and his car takes a 17" rim, which is not easy to find, especially in a strange area,
- the female half of a couple from SC that we befriended in the hotel bar pulled a pistol out of her purse, right there in the bar, which completely freaked The Man out, and
- my back went out on Saturday.
When I got home Sunday, Bloglines and both email accounts were so backed up I didn't get through them until, well, midday today.
The back is feeling a lot better, just a leftover fragility that tweaks me every so often if I move wrong.
I know exactly what's causing it, by the way. The hotel chain The Man always uses is very proud of the fact that they have completely refurbished all rooms in every variation of the chain, --- including the mattresses. The mattresses are now WAY too soft, and they have topped them with a feather bed, which makes it even worse. I absolutely require a firm mattress. The Man is upset because he wants me to be comfortable. He suggested removing the feather bed, but that doesn't matter so much - it's the mattress. I can press my fist 5" into it without even trying. I'm going to search the internet for a narrow folding bedboard. If I put it under the feather bed, that might work.
We had left my car at the Saddle Brook Marriott. While waiting for The Man there on Thursday, I noticed a very thin very friendly black on white female cat hanging around. When we returned on Sunday, she was there again. She meowed at me, rubbed against my ankles, and asked for food. I had opened my car doors to let it cool a bit, and while The Man and I were talking, the cat climbed into my car, and explored it. I briefly but seriously considered just closing the door and adopting her, but The Man said no! He said I can't "go around adopting stray cats from Marriott parking lots!" (That's how I got Jasper.) He actually hung around and shepherded me out of the lot to make sure I didn't snag her after he left.
And now, of course, she's haunting me.
.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
1938 Ignorant
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Stephen at "[A]mazed and [Be]mused" posted a complaint recently, that the American public is ignorant. Dangerously ignorant.
He uses as examples the way we demand antibiotics for viral colds, when we should know by now that they don't help, and the doctors give them to us. This contributes to bacteria becoming resistant to antibiotics. We are happily creating killer germs. Further, when antibiotics are truly indicated, we know we should take the full course of antibiotics, the doctors are insistent that we take the full course, we know we shouldn't stop when we start to feel better. Again, stopping short of the full course leads to resistant germs. But how many times have you read of some blogger self-treating with antibiotics "left over from the last time I had this"? Otherwise reasonable people are trying to kill us.
Another of Stephen's examples is the huge number of Americans who still believe Barack Obama is Muslim, Democrats as well as Republicans. He gives the count at 25%, regardless of the amount of investigative coverage Obama has had by folks who would like to see him fail. And then there's the huge number who still believe Saddam Hussein had WMD. I'll add to this all the folks who sincerely believe that anyone who is not American is automatically stupid. These people vote, and their ignorance could kill us all.
I'll add, as further proof of the ignorance of America, the very large number of us, thousands, who actually fall for those "Nigerian Scams" every year. How can anyone alive and aware enough to use a computer NOT know about those scams?
And then there's the way we fall for every commercial, for every "new and improved" product, everything corporations tell us. Companies have to come up with stuff to sell us. But hey, we don't have to buy it! The shampoo companies discovered how stupid we were in the '70s (or so) when they discovered that they could sell us twice as much shampoo simply by putting "Rinse, repeat" on the bottle.
Now they are telling us that we need to bleach and sanitize everything in the house, or we're a bad mother and terrible housekeeper. They don't care that we'd be raising a generation of kids with no immunities. Why on earth have we accepted that?
Why do we need to have every fancy electronic device that comes along? You know all those CDs you spent a fortune on in the 80s and 90s? If business has its way, they will all become unplayable soon, and you'll have to replace your entire music collection (ka-ching!). Why do we accept being expected to upgrade (read "replace") cell phones, etc. etc., every year? God forbid you should buy anything that you aren't forced to replace long before it dies. In the meantime, what is this throw-away mentality doing to our natural resources, and landfills?
Obesity. Deadly. Howcome we don't seem to know that yet? We know how deadly fast food burgers are, and yet there are many people who never eat anything but. Thinking people were horrified when they started putting 1/4 lb. of meat in one bun. Um, the past few times I've tried to order a burger in a steak house, the smallest was 1/2 lb. of meat! People are buying those things! Why?! Because they're ignorant of the consequences. And they shouldn't be.
We never see the consequences of what we do, what we accept, what we're "sold". We bought the SUV "necessity" whole hog. Whole GAS hog. I still don't understand why people thought they HAD to have them. But we did pretty much the same thing on a larger scale 50 years ago, when we allowed freight trains to die in favor of long-haul trucking. I still don't understand how anyone could think that was better. You know those stupid Europeans? They can go from almost any address in any small city to any other address in any other small city completely by bus and train. Comfortable, fast, frequent, convenient trains, which, since they've kept the tracks up, are only getting faster. Compare to our mass transit systems. We are completely ignorant. And it's going to kill us, economically if not literally.
What is most dangerous is our complete and utter ignorance of history and geography, our disdain for any other culture but our own.
Stephen ends with: "But if the question is, Will the informed, rational people of the world one day be destroyed by events set in motion by other people’s ignorance?, the answer is You betcha!"
.
Stephen at "[A]mazed and [Be]mused" posted a complaint recently, that the American public is ignorant. Dangerously ignorant.
He uses as examples the way we demand antibiotics for viral colds, when we should know by now that they don't help, and the doctors give them to us. This contributes to bacteria becoming resistant to antibiotics. We are happily creating killer germs. Further, when antibiotics are truly indicated, we know we should take the full course of antibiotics, the doctors are insistent that we take the full course, we know we shouldn't stop when we start to feel better. Again, stopping short of the full course leads to resistant germs. But how many times have you read of some blogger self-treating with antibiotics "left over from the last time I had this"? Otherwise reasonable people are trying to kill us.
Another of Stephen's examples is the huge number of Americans who still believe Barack Obama is Muslim, Democrats as well as Republicans. He gives the count at 25%, regardless of the amount of investigative coverage Obama has had by folks who would like to see him fail. And then there's the huge number who still believe Saddam Hussein had WMD. I'll add to this all the folks who sincerely believe that anyone who is not American is automatically stupid. These people vote, and their ignorance could kill us all.
I'll add, as further proof of the ignorance of America, the very large number of us, thousands, who actually fall for those "Nigerian Scams" every year. How can anyone alive and aware enough to use a computer NOT know about those scams?
And then there's the way we fall for every commercial, for every "new and improved" product, everything corporations tell us. Companies have to come up with stuff to sell us. But hey, we don't have to buy it! The shampoo companies discovered how stupid we were in the '70s (or so) when they discovered that they could sell us twice as much shampoo simply by putting "Rinse, repeat" on the bottle.
Now they are telling us that we need to bleach and sanitize everything in the house, or we're a bad mother and terrible housekeeper. They don't care that we'd be raising a generation of kids with no immunities. Why on earth have we accepted that?
Why do we need to have every fancy electronic device that comes along? You know all those CDs you spent a fortune on in the 80s and 90s? If business has its way, they will all become unplayable soon, and you'll have to replace your entire music collection (ka-ching!). Why do we accept being expected to upgrade (read "replace") cell phones, etc. etc., every year? God forbid you should buy anything that you aren't forced to replace long before it dies. In the meantime, what is this throw-away mentality doing to our natural resources, and landfills?
Obesity. Deadly. Howcome we don't seem to know that yet? We know how deadly fast food burgers are, and yet there are many people who never eat anything but. Thinking people were horrified when they started putting 1/4 lb. of meat in one bun. Um, the past few times I've tried to order a burger in a steak house, the smallest was 1/2 lb. of meat! People are buying those things! Why?! Because they're ignorant of the consequences. And they shouldn't be.
We never see the consequences of what we do, what we accept, what we're "sold". We bought the SUV "necessity" whole hog. Whole GAS hog. I still don't understand why people thought they HAD to have them. But we did pretty much the same thing on a larger scale 50 years ago, when we allowed freight trains to die in favor of long-haul trucking. I still don't understand how anyone could think that was better. You know those stupid Europeans? They can go from almost any address in any small city to any other address in any other small city completely by bus and train. Comfortable, fast, frequent, convenient trains, which, since they've kept the tracks up, are only getting faster. Compare to our mass transit systems. We are completely ignorant. And it's going to kill us, economically if not literally.
What is most dangerous is our complete and utter ignorance of history and geography, our disdain for any other culture but our own.
Stephen ends with: "But if the question is, Will the informed, rational people of the world one day be destroyed by events set in motion by other people’s ignorance?, the answer is You betcha!"
.
Friday, August 01, 2008
1937 What are they thinking?
Friday, August 1, 2008
All of my online dating profiles and accounts have been dead for a year, but Match.com is still sending me weekly email full of "matches we have selected for you". I don't know what criteria they're using for this matching. They send me men who live 100 miles away. Men who are 40 years old, looking for women 28-38. From the photos it would be easy to conclude they're just sending me the most desperate of their clients.
I suppose there's a way to make them stop, but I haven't tried because it's sometimes amusing. I've been giggling at some of the "handles" these guys choose.
Funniest thing - I mined some past "match" emails for some names, then decided to go to the website and search, and see if I could find more good ones I could make fun of. When the photos came up, I was amazed! Hey, good looking guys! Lots better than the guys they'd been sending me. Wow! Yummy!
Then I discovered I'd accidentally searched as "man looking for man". Oops. Never mind. Gorgeousness explained.
.
All of my online dating profiles and accounts have been dead for a year, but Match.com is still sending me weekly email full of "matches we have selected for you". I don't know what criteria they're using for this matching. They send me men who live 100 miles away. Men who are 40 years old, looking for women 28-38. From the photos it would be easy to conclude they're just sending me the most desperate of their clients.
I suppose there's a way to make them stop, but I haven't tried because it's sometimes amusing. I've been giggling at some of the "handles" these guys choose.
- Snowaterguy - why do I think "yellow"?
- Dumas789 - just how many other dumb asses are there out there? (He's nice looking, BTW.)
- Earthighs - I suspect he means "Earth highs", but I keep reading it as "Ear thighs".
- Varsity02 - a 61-yo? A case of arrested development?
- Johnnyace719 - casino, anyone?
- GPsilverfox - well, he's got a healthy self-image. I suspect the GP is Grandpa.
- Jeepsoft - I kinda like this, wonder how he came up with it. Makes me think of little fuzzy yellow chicks with attitude, for some reason.
- Briskymorning - I happen to know this guy, ex-coworker, super sexy, but his handle makes me shiver.
- Ubereclectic - I have to wonder about anyone who uses "uber". I already have a feeling we wouldn't hit it off. "Uber" smells of beer.
- No401k - he's looking for a sugar momma?
- Artfuldoger892 - Prophetic? Not promising if one wants a long-term relationship.
- Maj.Pain - Makes me laugh. Humor or honesty?
- Cereopsis - that's the Cape Barren Goose, cereopsis novaehollandiae. They mate only in/on water. Is this a warning or a promise?
- Topguyforltr - is that Top Guy For Letter? I don't get it, but it feels vaguely dirty.
- Soundsystem10003 - I have a feeling the lady will not come first.
- BankdudeNY - working in or robbing? And, um, "dude"? You're adult!
- Cinderella1faces - this is a guy?
- Singlebi - thanks for being upfront about it.
- Darthblader - I read that as Darth Bladder and cringed.
- MikeB4u - honest about his egotism, I guess.
- Characterwanted - just what I wanted, a man without character.
- Roughhands529 - thanks for the warning.
- Bethbrian - threesome anyone?
- Callmemisterbig - are you bragging, or just into Manolo Blahniks?
- Loseofwords - if that was supposed to be "loss", you're right.
- Allnigtflyer - hey, don't promise what you can't deliver. Unless you're maybe a bat.
- Uglyduck47 - and he didn't provide a photo. Poor guy.
- Skiier_Wanted - do you want a whole relationship, or someone who fits one small part of your life?
- Urbdyisawndrland - oh, come on! Empty flattery will get you nowhere.
- Poorjohn69honey - run, ladies, run.
Funniest thing - I mined some past "match" emails for some names, then decided to go to the website and search, and see if I could find more good ones I could make fun of. When the photos came up, I was amazed! Hey, good looking guys! Lots better than the guys they'd been sending me. Wow! Yummy!
Then I discovered I'd accidentally searched as "man looking for man". Oops. Never mind. Gorgeousness explained.
.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
1936 Freakonomic Economics
Thursday, July 31, 2008
The new NYS governor has been all over the news, with his economic plan for the state. When he took office he was startled to find that the current state deficit is $5 billion. That's billion. With a "B". And next year it is expected to go to $6.5 billion if major spending cuts are not made.
In his various speeches and interviews, he talked about how the people of the state are suffering, that people are losing jobs and are unable to find work, that people are losing their homes, that they'll have to choose this winter between heating the house or feeding the children. He actually declared that NYS is experiencing a recession - a word Wall Street and the federal government have been careful to avoid.
His solution? Drastic cuts to state government spending. Cuts in state programs. Cuts in state employees. He hopes that the employee cuts (no solid number yet, but it's above 1,000) can be achieved through attrition and hiring freezes, but layoffs are not off the table.
Ok, supposedly, nobody understands economics. Supposedly, common sense does not apply. But it sure does seem to me that laying people off and removing jobs, and cutting state supported programs that help economically challenged people, with the resulting domino effect of more jobs disappearing, sure isn't going to help.
I guess I have to be wrong, because it's common sense.
.
The new NYS governor has been all over the news, with his economic plan for the state. When he took office he was startled to find that the current state deficit is $5 billion. That's billion. With a "B". And next year it is expected to go to $6.5 billion if major spending cuts are not made.
In his various speeches and interviews, he talked about how the people of the state are suffering, that people are losing jobs and are unable to find work, that people are losing their homes, that they'll have to choose this winter between heating the house or feeding the children. He actually declared that NYS is experiencing a recession - a word Wall Street and the federal government have been careful to avoid.
His solution? Drastic cuts to state government spending. Cuts in state programs. Cuts in state employees. He hopes that the employee cuts (no solid number yet, but it's above 1,000) can be achieved through attrition and hiring freezes, but layoffs are not off the table.
Ok, supposedly, nobody understands economics. Supposedly, common sense does not apply. But it sure does seem to me that laying people off and removing jobs, and cutting state supported programs that help economically challenged people, with the resulting domino effect of more jobs disappearing, sure isn't going to help.
I guess I have to be wrong, because it's common sense.
.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
1935 Signs
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Last week in NJ The Man and I were traveling down a road when I saw a sign outside a Ramada Inn. I made him pull a U-turn (a major piece of business in NJ) so I could get a photo of the sign. I screwed up and didn't save it, but I can reproduce it:
Piper and I walked today (3.5 miles), and passed a church and cemetery in the village. They had a sign, too:
Last week in NJ The Man and I were traveling down a road when I saw a sign outside a Ramada Inn. I made him pull a U-turn (a major piece of business in NJ) so I could get a photo of the sign. I screwed up and didn't save it, but I can reproduce it:
Have The World's Most
Exquisite Wedding Here
Starting from $39.95
Exquisite Wedding Here
Starting from $39.95
Piper and I walked today (3.5 miles), and passed a church and cemetery in the village. They had a sign, too:
July Special
St. John's Cemetery
Plots
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St. John's Cemetery
Plots
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
1934 The hard disk puzzle solved
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Back when I was using Jay's old desktop computer, I noted that the hard disk was partitioned, there was a lot of disk space missing, and I speculated that there was another partition beyond the two (C and D) that I was aware of. Nothing beyond C and D showed up on queries. I then found a set of CDs labeled "Backup - C,D,E,F", but I didn't know what was on E and F.
Yesterday I found a trove of backup CDs in a box in the closet. They are all fully labeled with the contents, including file names.
- C is operating system and applications.
- D is mostly my stuff - music, photos, letters, etc.
The hidden ones:
- E is work for The Company.
- F is work for the partnership he was involved with.
- G is communication with the Java folks, and test versions of Java thingies.
- H is all games, I think.
- I, J, K, and L appear to be empty, or temp files. They are backed up on the same CD as G.
'Twould appear that Jay went a little crazy with the partitioning.
Still no idea how to get to the hidden ones. I don't want to trash or donate the old computer without erasing and overwriting all but the C-disk, and I don't know how. I may have to bring that enormous magnet up from the basement and wipe it all out.
.
Back when I was using Jay's old desktop computer, I noted that the hard disk was partitioned, there was a lot of disk space missing, and I speculated that there was another partition beyond the two (C and D) that I was aware of. Nothing beyond C and D showed up on queries. I then found a set of CDs labeled "Backup - C,D,E,F", but I didn't know what was on E and F.
Yesterday I found a trove of backup CDs in a box in the closet. They are all fully labeled with the contents, including file names.
- C is operating system and applications.
- D is mostly my stuff - music, photos, letters, etc.
The hidden ones:
- E is work for The Company.
- F is work for the partnership he was involved with.
- G is communication with the Java folks, and test versions of Java thingies.
- H is all games, I think.
- I, J, K, and L appear to be empty, or temp files. They are backed up on the same CD as G.
'Twould appear that Jay went a little crazy with the partitioning.
Still no idea how to get to the hidden ones. I don't want to trash or donate the old computer without erasing and overwriting all but the C-disk, and I don't know how. I may have to bring that enormous magnet up from the basement and wipe it all out.
.
1933 Glowing through the psoriasis
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
I have psoriasis on my elbows, self-diagnosed. Flat shiny gray scales. My elbows look awful. They look dirty. I've asked my doctor about it in the past, and she said it was just dry skin and to moisturize, and recommended various creams. They didn't work. I found out by accident (grabbed the wrong tube) that cortisone cream is the only thing that works. It makes them just red instead of dirty gray, but that's an improvement. I'm getting very upset about the whole thing.
-----------------------------------------
Something interesting, to me, anyway. When I don't wear makeup, people who usually see me in warpaint will ask me what's wrong. They tell me I look tired, or like I'm coming down with something. I'll walk into Piper's office, and he'll jump up and say, "What's wrong? You look terrible!", or the cashier at the IGA will say, "Rough day, huh?" In stores where they don't know me, I've noticed I get better service with makeup than without. Seriously. I'm not exaggerating. It's constant, and guaranteed. (I don't think people are being rude - I have to appreciate their concern when they seem to think there's reason for it. It's nice to know they care.)
Even when I say, "Oh, I'm ok. I'm just not wearing makeup", they nod, but then they don't seem to believe me, and treat me like I'm in delicate condition or something.
So, I wear makeup when I leave the house, in self-defense.
However, it's entirely different if I've had happy sex within like 36 hours.
I left The Man on Friday morning and went directly to Daughter's. I had not put makeup on. The first thing she said when I walked in was, "Wow. You look great!" On my way home that afternoon, I stopped in at Piper's office. He told me I was "lookin' real good." Then I stopped at the grocery store, and the clerk asked if I'd just got back from vacation or something, "...you've got a glow."
I think that's weird. I look in the mirror, and I don't really look any different. Maybe a little more sparkle in the eyes? Color in the cheeks? Skin a little tighter? Bull poopy. I'm wondering if they're picking up on pheromones or something.
On the other hand, your mental attitude definitely shows on your face, and maybe that's what they're seeing. Happy sex. If I'm feeling blah, I look blah, unless I've painted on a happy face. If I'm happy and still purring, I look happy, I look at people happily, perhaps I even purr at them, and that rubs off on others, with or without paint.
There's a lesson there.
.
I have psoriasis on my elbows, self-diagnosed. Flat shiny gray scales. My elbows look awful. They look dirty. I've asked my doctor about it in the past, and she said it was just dry skin and to moisturize, and recommended various creams. They didn't work. I found out by accident (grabbed the wrong tube) that cortisone cream is the only thing that works. It makes them just red instead of dirty gray, but that's an improvement. I'm getting very upset about the whole thing.
-----------------------------------------
Something interesting, to me, anyway. When I don't wear makeup, people who usually see me in warpaint will ask me what's wrong. They tell me I look tired, or like I'm coming down with something. I'll walk into Piper's office, and he'll jump up and say, "What's wrong? You look terrible!", or the cashier at the IGA will say, "Rough day, huh?" In stores where they don't know me, I've noticed I get better service with makeup than without. Seriously. I'm not exaggerating. It's constant, and guaranteed. (I don't think people are being rude - I have to appreciate their concern when they seem to think there's reason for it. It's nice to know they care.)
Even when I say, "Oh, I'm ok. I'm just not wearing makeup", they nod, but then they don't seem to believe me, and treat me like I'm in delicate condition or something.
So, I wear makeup when I leave the house, in self-defense.
However, it's entirely different if I've had happy sex within like 36 hours.
I left The Man on Friday morning and went directly to Daughter's. I had not put makeup on. The first thing she said when I walked in was, "Wow. You look great!" On my way home that afternoon, I stopped in at Piper's office. He told me I was "lookin' real good." Then I stopped at the grocery store, and the clerk asked if I'd just got back from vacation or something, "...you've got a glow."
I think that's weird. I look in the mirror, and I don't really look any different. Maybe a little more sparkle in the eyes? Color in the cheeks? Skin a little tighter? Bull poopy. I'm wondering if they're picking up on pheromones or something.
On the other hand, your mental attitude definitely shows on your face, and maybe that's what they're seeing. Happy sex. If I'm feeling blah, I look blah, unless I've painted on a happy face. If I'm happy and still purring, I look happy, I look at people happily, perhaps I even purr at them, and that rubs off on others, with or without paint.
There's a lesson there.
.
Monday, July 28, 2008
1932 Boscobel & Bits
Monday, July 28, 2008
The play last night was Cybeline. I'd never heard of it before. I understood it and liked it better than any of the others I'd attended at Boscobel so far. As usual, there was the "girl dressed as boy", and the other characters don't recognize her. I may be considered an uncultured barbarian for this, but I never understood Shakespeare worship. The sonnets are good, and a few of the plays (e.g. Romeo & Juliet, and Hamlet), but I find many to be rather juvenile. Food for the masses. I like the ancient Greek plays better, and even Gilbert & Sullivan.
That reminds me - we read Hamlet in high school. One of my classmates said she didn't think the author was very good because "he used a lot of trite phrases, like 'get thee to a nunnery', and that 'something's rotten in Denmark' thing. I mean really! He's not very original."
I did have a ticket waiting for me, and no one exploded until the very end of the evening, and then it took the form of her abruptly leaving.
Roman and I ended up in a diner at a little after 11 pm. We talked for an hour or more, and it was nice. I've missed talking with him.
Today I had a very long walk with Piper, and then I took Suzy to the beauty parlor, where she got an oil change, lube, paw rotation, and state inspection. I'll have to give her an aerobic workout soon to see if she needs her paws aligned. She's been a bit shaky lately at about 70 mph.
------------------------------
I occasionally find mail in my mailbox that's addressed to someone else, sometimes a neighbor, sometimes someone on an entirely different road. If it's a neighbor, I put it in their mailbox. If it's someone elsewhere, I return it to the mail carrier.
I often wonder if any of my mail is similarly misdelivered.
I overheard a conversation yesterday that infuriated me. I've heard other people say the same thing before, and it makes me wonder about the morals of the average American.
Here's how it goes:
Woman 1 mentioned that she got someone else's package in the mail.
Woman 2 asked what it was.
Woman 1 says she doesn't know, that she took it to the post office.
Woman 2 says she gets other people's mail too, but she opens it. Letters, she just throws out. If it's a package with good stuff, she keeps it. If not, she throws it out.
Woman 1 expresses shock.
Woman 2 shrugs and says that it's the law that if someone sends you something you didn't order, you get to keep it. Besides, if it's at all valuable, it's insured, and if letters are important, they'll send another.
Duh?
There's so much wrong with that statement I don't know where to start. And this is the third time I've heard something like that in the past 18 months. It makes me sick to my stomach. I can't help but wonder how much mail I never got. I'd have accosted this woman, but she was big and mean looking, and moving out the door faster than I was.
----------------------------
After the across-the-street neighbors sold their house and moved, I thought my mailbox and newspaper tube were finally safe. About once a year, either they or someone visiting them would hit my box backing out of their driveway, and not once did anyone apologize or offer to fix it.
Jay had mounted the mailbox on plumbing pipes with "L" joints, so if it got hit it would twist on the pipes, rather than just get crushed. But it's got 20 years of rust in those joints, so it takes an enormous amount of force to turn it, and it needs the Hairless Hunk's backhoe to twist it back. There's no way someone could hit it hard enough to twist it and not be aware what they'd done.
When I got home last night, I found my mailbox twisted at a 45 degree to the road, and the tube leaning over. There's no note. No apology.
I am so angry I could spit nails. I'm tempted to take the binoculars down the driveway, and see if there are dents in the back of either of their cars.
-----------------------------
Teens outside the diner. "Want a cigarette?" "What? You smoking? You're on the team! Besides, those things can kill you!" "Nah. These are herbal. There's nothing dangerous in them."
Ack! First off, tobacco is herbal! I'm tired of people using "herbal" (or "natural") without any idea what it means. Second, nicotine affects your heart, but has little effect on the lungs. It's the byproducts of burning - the particles that settle in your lungs, the oils, the body's inflammatory response to the smoke, that destroys your lungs! "Nothing dangerous" my ass!
(Yeah, "herbal" tea also annoys me. Tea with caffeine is herbal, too. Don't you dare try to offer me "non-herbal" tea. There's no such thing, by definition.)
Bah. Bedtime.
.
The play last night was Cybeline. I'd never heard of it before. I understood it and liked it better than any of the others I'd attended at Boscobel so far. As usual, there was the "girl dressed as boy", and the other characters don't recognize her. I may be considered an uncultured barbarian for this, but I never understood Shakespeare worship. The sonnets are good, and a few of the plays (e.g. Romeo & Juliet, and Hamlet), but I find many to be rather juvenile. Food for the masses. I like the ancient Greek plays better, and even Gilbert & Sullivan.
That reminds me - we read Hamlet in high school. One of my classmates said she didn't think the author was very good because "he used a lot of trite phrases, like 'get thee to a nunnery', and that 'something's rotten in Denmark' thing. I mean really! He's not very original."
I did have a ticket waiting for me, and no one exploded until the very end of the evening, and then it took the form of her abruptly leaving.
Roman and I ended up in a diner at a little after 11 pm. We talked for an hour or more, and it was nice. I've missed talking with him.
Today I had a very long walk with Piper, and then I took Suzy to the beauty parlor, where she got an oil change, lube, paw rotation, and state inspection. I'll have to give her an aerobic workout soon to see if she needs her paws aligned. She's been a bit shaky lately at about 70 mph.
------------------------------
I occasionally find mail in my mailbox that's addressed to someone else, sometimes a neighbor, sometimes someone on an entirely different road. If it's a neighbor, I put it in their mailbox. If it's someone elsewhere, I return it to the mail carrier.
I often wonder if any of my mail is similarly misdelivered.
I overheard a conversation yesterday that infuriated me. I've heard other people say the same thing before, and it makes me wonder about the morals of the average American.
Here's how it goes:
Woman 1 mentioned that she got someone else's package in the mail.
Woman 2 asked what it was.
Woman 1 says she doesn't know, that she took it to the post office.
Woman 2 says she gets other people's mail too, but she opens it. Letters, she just throws out. If it's a package with good stuff, she keeps it. If not, she throws it out.
Woman 1 expresses shock.
Woman 2 shrugs and says that it's the law that if someone sends you something you didn't order, you get to keep it. Besides, if it's at all valuable, it's insured, and if letters are important, they'll send another.
Duh?
There's so much wrong with that statement I don't know where to start. And this is the third time I've heard something like that in the past 18 months. It makes me sick to my stomach. I can't help but wonder how much mail I never got. I'd have accosted this woman, but she was big and mean looking, and moving out the door faster than I was.
----------------------------
After the across-the-street neighbors sold their house and moved, I thought my mailbox and newspaper tube were finally safe. About once a year, either they or someone visiting them would hit my box backing out of their driveway, and not once did anyone apologize or offer to fix it.
Jay had mounted the mailbox on plumbing pipes with "L" joints, so if it got hit it would twist on the pipes, rather than just get crushed. But it's got 20 years of rust in those joints, so it takes an enormous amount of force to turn it, and it needs the Hairless Hunk's backhoe to twist it back. There's no way someone could hit it hard enough to twist it and not be aware what they'd done.
When I got home last night, I found my mailbox twisted at a 45 degree to the road, and the tube leaning over. There's no note. No apology.
I am so angry I could spit nails. I'm tempted to take the binoculars down the driveway, and see if there are dents in the back of either of their cars.
-----------------------------
Teens outside the diner. "Want a cigarette?" "What? You smoking? You're on the team! Besides, those things can kill you!" "Nah. These are herbal. There's nothing dangerous in them."
Ack! First off, tobacco is herbal! I'm tired of people using "herbal" (or "natural") without any idea what it means. Second, nicotine affects your heart, but has little effect on the lungs. It's the byproducts of burning - the particles that settle in your lungs, the oils, the body's inflammatory response to the smoke, that destroys your lungs! "Nothing dangerous" my ass!
(Yeah, "herbal" tea also annoys me. Tea with caffeine is herbal, too. Don't you dare try to offer me "non-herbal" tea. There's no such thing, by definition.)
Bah. Bedtime.
.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
1931 No Sleep
Sunday, July 27, 2008
It's 6:30 am, and I have not yet slept. We had a pretty unbelievable storm last night. Actually, three or four separate storms. I could tell when one ended because the cats returned to the bed, and then they'd disappear when the next started.
I think there was rain only with the last one. Mostly it was lightning and thunder. Lightning and thunder don't usually bother me, but I'd never in my life heard thunder like last night's. Loud and constant rumbles with a bang or multiple bangs about every three seconds. It was so steady and loud it sounded like a monster train coming - and from my memories of Missouri, that usually means tornado. At one point I considered moving to the basement, but then decided there wasn't much point.
That went on, off and on, all night. A storm would end, and I'd start to drift off, and BAM! it would start again.
I'm meeting people (FW and Roman, and four people from NYC Mensa) for another evening of Shakespeare at Boscobel. Tonight is Cymbeline. The group wants to meet early for a picnic before the play, and given the characters I'll have to deal with, it's going to be a very long day. FW bought the tickets, and we are each supposed to pick up ours at the ticket office. I hope she hasn't pulled another of her tricks and "forgot" to include my ticket in the count. I wouldn't put it past her.
Maybe I can get a few hours sleep this morning.
More cat pictures.
.
It's 6:30 am, and I have not yet slept. We had a pretty unbelievable storm last night. Actually, three or four separate storms. I could tell when one ended because the cats returned to the bed, and then they'd disappear when the next started.
I think there was rain only with the last one. Mostly it was lightning and thunder. Lightning and thunder don't usually bother me, but I'd never in my life heard thunder like last night's. Loud and constant rumbles with a bang or multiple bangs about every three seconds. It was so steady and loud it sounded like a monster train coming - and from my memories of Missouri, that usually means tornado. At one point I considered moving to the basement, but then decided there wasn't much point.
That went on, off and on, all night. A storm would end, and I'd start to drift off, and BAM! it would start again.
I'm meeting people (FW and Roman, and four people from NYC Mensa) for another evening of Shakespeare at Boscobel. Tonight is Cymbeline. The group wants to meet early for a picnic before the play, and given the characters I'll have to deal with, it's going to be a very long day. FW bought the tickets, and we are each supposed to pick up ours at the ticket office. I hope she hasn't pulled another of her tricks and "forgot" to include my ticket in the count. I wouldn't put it past her.
Maybe I can get a few hours sleep this morning.
More cat pictures.
.
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