Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Well, I went to the foolishly made lunch date today, and I'm glad I did. Of the nine or so immediate responses I got to my profile (which, by the way, was very quickly hidden) Monday night, this guy was the pick of the litter.
On the good side, you can see that in his youth he was probably quite handsome - he's still attractive around the eyes and cheeks. And I think he might even be a nice guy, in there somewhere.
He was 25 minutes late, because I didn't call him to confirm, even though I had told him several times that I would NOT call, and that I didn't need to confirm because I'd already committed, and if there was an emergency I'd email him.
When he didn't get a call, he assumed I'd canceled. Not a good listener, and perhaps lacking in confidence.
His profile put him at a bit younger than I, but I think he's actually many years older, that or he's lived a very rough life. Either his photo is not recent, or he photographs very well (which is possible, because I know I photograph badly). 90% of his conversation ran to sex. Worse, I would be talking about something, and he'd interrupt, and take it off in a sexual direction just before I got to my point. I kept bring things back to where I was, kind of like a hint, and he didn't notice. (I know I tend to take 50 words to say what could be said in 5, but if you stick with it and listen, sometimes it's worth it.)
The end result is that I know more about him than I want to, and he knows nothing about me.
Ok. I learned my lesson.
I find it difficult to say "I don't think this is going to work". The only guy I ever came right out and said that to was the one with the iron cross tattoo on the back of his hand, who said he had five piercings, and sitting across the table from him I saw none, and then I cringed.
I think he got the idea anyway. And I have a renewed appreciation for The Man. He's got everything I want; I just have to figure out how to get more of it out of him.
I don't know if I mentioned the OTHER site I played with Monday night. That one was specifically for seniors, and also required that you sign up and fill out a profile before doing a search. I'd learned my lesson on the first site. The profile I briefly had on the second site says I'm 80 years old, bald, smoke cigars, drink like a fish, and I'm looking for a rich man to pay my bills and change my dressings.
No hits on that one.
.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
2312 I think I've hurt me, Part 2.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I hurt me twice. Once by doing something stupid last night, and once by doing too much today.
Part 2 - Today
I volunteered at the nursing home. They were having a St. Patrick's Day parade, where the residents dress up and parade through the halls led by a 21-piece bagpipe and drum band and "floats" (shopping carts decorated by the various interest groups), and they needed about 35 volunteers to push wheelchairs and floats.
I'm not sure how it happened, I think maybe because I was the only volunteer that followed directions and didn't just run and grab someone but waited to be assigned, which we'd been told to do but it never happened because everyone else just ran and grabbed someone - anyway, I was the last to get a resident to push. Everybody else had shopping carts or regular big-wheeled pipe-and-canvas-type wheelchairs. I had a nice, but very large, lady in one of those big thickly upholstered recliner-type chairs. The only one like that in the whole building. (Imagine a LazyBoy with a too-small handle on the back and tiny serving cart wheels, on carpet. No kidding.)
Obviously no one else wanted to push that one, and I can see why. It was heavy and awkward, and the small wheels that spun independently would swoosh it off sideways if you didn't pay attention.
It had so much inertia to overcome to get it moving, that I, the smallest of all the volunteers, had to stretch out at an extreme angle to get it moving. Everybody carefully ignored my struggles, and by the time I realized how hard it was going to be, the parade was moving out, my lady and I were the last in line, and there was no one I could ask to trade.
The home is laid out with halls leading to circular nursing stations, and then halls branching off from the stations - sort of like a snowflake. Maximizes windows in the rooms. We followed the right wall, up and down the halls. Right turn after right turn, with a heavy awkward chair that wanted to skitter sideways into the walls, threatening to smash my lady's fingers, and me leaning sideways against the pull.
I had to throw my entire body into moving, turning, and maneuvering the chair.
I don't know how far we walked, but it was 50 minutes at a normal walking pace. In the first ten minutes, the inside of my right knee started to complain, from the hard right turning with it stretched out to the side. Twenty minutes in, I had a stitch in my right side. By the time it was over, even my sternum hurt.
Tonight it's obvious I've strained my back. I have upper and lower back pain, and abdominal cramps, which indicates a nerve under pressure. Bleck.
Oh well, with any luck I won't be able to move tomorrow, and I can honestly cancel the dreaded lunch.
.
I hurt me twice. Once by doing something stupid last night, and once by doing too much today.
Part 2 - Today
I volunteered at the nursing home. They were having a St. Patrick's Day parade, where the residents dress up and parade through the halls led by a 21-piece bagpipe and drum band and "floats" (shopping carts decorated by the various interest groups), and they needed about 35 volunteers to push wheelchairs and floats.
I'm not sure how it happened, I think maybe because I was the only volunteer that followed directions and didn't just run and grab someone but waited to be assigned, which we'd been told to do but it never happened because everyone else just ran and grabbed someone - anyway, I was the last to get a resident to push. Everybody else had shopping carts or regular big-wheeled pipe-and-canvas-type wheelchairs. I had a nice, but very large, lady in one of those big thickly upholstered recliner-type chairs. The only one like that in the whole building. (Imagine a LazyBoy with a too-small handle on the back and tiny serving cart wheels, on carpet. No kidding.)
Obviously no one else wanted to push that one, and I can see why. It was heavy and awkward, and the small wheels that spun independently would swoosh it off sideways if you didn't pay attention.
It had so much inertia to overcome to get it moving, that I, the smallest of all the volunteers, had to stretch out at an extreme angle to get it moving. Everybody carefully ignored my struggles, and by the time I realized how hard it was going to be, the parade was moving out, my lady and I were the last in line, and there was no one I could ask to trade.
The home is laid out with halls leading to circular nursing stations, and then halls branching off from the stations - sort of like a snowflake. Maximizes windows in the rooms. We followed the right wall, up and down the halls. Right turn after right turn, with a heavy awkward chair that wanted to skitter sideways into the walls, threatening to smash my lady's fingers, and me leaning sideways against the pull.
I had to throw my entire body into moving, turning, and maneuvering the chair.
I don't know how far we walked, but it was 50 minutes at a normal walking pace. In the first ten minutes, the inside of my right knee started to complain, from the hard right turning with it stretched out to the side. Twenty minutes in, I had a stitch in my right side. By the time it was over, even my sternum hurt.
Tonight it's obvious I've strained my back. I have upper and lower back pain, and abdominal cramps, which indicates a nerve under pressure. Bleck.
Oh well, with any luck I won't be able to move tomorrow, and I can honestly cancel the dreaded lunch.
.
2311 I think I've hurt me, Part 1.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Twice. Once by doing something stupid last night, and once by doing too much today.
Part 1 -Last Night
Some time ago, in conversation with a friend about online dating sites, I mentioned that my experience from a few years ago turned up very few men within 50 miles of my home. They just aren't there. She said that I should check out blahblah.com, that they had oodles of local men. I thought I knew all the sites. I'd never heard of that one.
Now, since the medical scare, and a reevaluation of my current relationship, as satisfying as it is when I see him, I don't think it's likely to be "going anywhere", I'm beginning to think that as strong as the feelings may be on either side (I really do adore him, and I believe him when he says he loves me), it's probably just a casual thing, and darn it I want more, but I'm not going to find more unless I look, and all those other crazy thoughts I reject as soon as I think them, oh go away crazy lady - well, I've been thinking about getting "out there" just to see what's possible. I mean, I don't have to DO anything, right? Just window shop. Shake the bush and see what falls out.
So I went to blahblah.com and started a search. Naturally, you can't search until you register (free). And you can't register until you fill out a profile. And they must have some good text checking software, because they won't let you set up a dummy profile full of nonsense.
Ok, so maybe I should have made me sound crazy. I didn't. I made it real (except that for the first time ever, I lied about my age). And I did say I was just window shopping. I hit "Save", and within twenty seconds I had five winks, and three emails. And an invitation to chat.
I never chatted before. I was intrigued. Besides, the guy used to work for The Company. Maybe I already know him. We chatted a bit, and he sent me a photo (nice looking, don't know him), and ...
... I have a lunch date with him tomorow.
Oh crap. In the light of day I now want to cancel. I can't with good conscience do that. I'm going to have to go. I don't know what will happen, what I'll say. Maybe I'll just tell him about The Man, but then I'll come off as a royal ... um ... something-er-other. One of those people who jerks people around for their own amusement.
This is not cool. I think I hurt me. Worse, if you know what to give Google, it turns up the profile. Agh! Sometimes I don't understand ME!
Oh, and the friend was right - I did search, and there were about 80 guys on there within 50 miles. Amazing.
My profile is now "invisible".
.
Twice. Once by doing something stupid last night, and once by doing too much today.
Part 1 -Last Night
Some time ago, in conversation with a friend about online dating sites, I mentioned that my experience from a few years ago turned up very few men within 50 miles of my home. They just aren't there. She said that I should check out blahblah.com, that they had oodles of local men. I thought I knew all the sites. I'd never heard of that one.
Now, since the medical scare, and a reevaluation of my current relationship, as satisfying as it is when I see him, I don't think it's likely to be "going anywhere", I'm beginning to think that as strong as the feelings may be on either side (I really do adore him, and I believe him when he says he loves me), it's probably just a casual thing, and darn it I want more, but I'm not going to find more unless I look, and all those other crazy thoughts I reject as soon as I think them, oh go away crazy lady - well, I've been thinking about getting "out there" just to see what's possible. I mean, I don't have to DO anything, right? Just window shop. Shake the bush and see what falls out.
So I went to blahblah.com and started a search. Naturally, you can't search until you register (free). And you can't register until you fill out a profile. And they must have some good text checking software, because they won't let you set up a dummy profile full of nonsense.
Ok, so maybe I should have made me sound crazy. I didn't. I made it real (except that for the first time ever, I lied about my age). And I did say I was just window shopping. I hit "Save", and within twenty seconds I had five winks, and three emails. And an invitation to chat.
I never chatted before. I was intrigued. Besides, the guy used to work for The Company. Maybe I already know him. We chatted a bit, and he sent me a photo (nice looking, don't know him), and ...
... I have a lunch date with him tomorow.
Oh crap. In the light of day I now want to cancel. I can't with good conscience do that. I'm going to have to go. I don't know what will happen, what I'll say. Maybe I'll just tell him about The Man, but then I'll come off as a royal ... um ... something-er-other. One of those people who jerks people around for their own amusement.
This is not cool. I think I hurt me. Worse, if you know what to give Google, it turns up the profile. Agh! Sometimes I don't understand ME!
Oh, and the friend was right - I did search, and there were about 80 guys on there within 50 miles. Amazing.
My profile is now "invisible".
.
Monday, March 16, 2009
2310 Town Car
Monday, March 16, 2009
I've never ridden in a limousine. I don't know that there's anything special about it, but I do feel like I'm missing an experience. Not so much the actual ride as the occasion that would call for it.
Thinking about that reminded me of my one experience with a limousine service. It was the early eighties, and Daughter and I went to England for a few weeks. The flight was out of Kennedy, and it was expensive (and worrisome) to leave my car in the lot that long, and the local rental car companies wouldn't allow one-way rentals. We got a ride to the airport with a friend, but getting home we were on our own. I found a local limousine service that would pick us up at the airport. They offered a stretch limousine for a small fortune, or a "Town Car" for a few hundred.
I chose the Town Car.
When we got off the plane, we saw lots of uniformed drivers with neatly printed signs. And one unshaved guy in jeans holding up a torn piece of cardboard. Took a while for me to realize that it was my name scrawled on the cardboard.
The "Town Car" was a battered old Ford with duct-taped bumpers that spewed black soot out the rear and burped exhaust through the floorboards. I hesitated to go with the guy. I had visions of my uniformed chauffeur lying tied up in an alley next to his stripped vehicle, while this guy abducted the stupid "rich lady". But he had all the proper documents, and the photo matched, and it was 9 pm, and 8-year-old Daughter was asleep on her feet, and it was pre-cell days, and the limousine company didn't answer the one pay phone call I attempted, so I gave up and we went.
I sat in the front so Daughter could sleep on the back seat, and the guy spent the next two hours of the drive apologizing for the car. His personal car was wonderful (a Mustang (which still isn't a Town Car you know)), and he was supposed to use his own car, he's a subcontractor, but he didn't want to put the mileage on it, so he had borrowed this one, and he was sure it was ok with the boss, but he'd appreciate it if I didn't tell him.
I was furious. Even if he did use the other car, it wasn't what I'd paid for.
I was younger and a bit beaten down back then. I should have called the limousine company and demanded at least half my money back, but I just didn't have the energy. I just told all the secretaries who handled the business travel arrangements for The Company.
Heh heh.
If I ever marry again, I want a stretch limousine. Just for the heck of it.
.
I've never ridden in a limousine. I don't know that there's anything special about it, but I do feel like I'm missing an experience. Not so much the actual ride as the occasion that would call for it.
Thinking about that reminded me of my one experience with a limousine service. It was the early eighties, and Daughter and I went to England for a few weeks. The flight was out of Kennedy, and it was expensive (and worrisome) to leave my car in the lot that long, and the local rental car companies wouldn't allow one-way rentals. We got a ride to the airport with a friend, but getting home we were on our own. I found a local limousine service that would pick us up at the airport. They offered a stretch limousine for a small fortune, or a "Town Car" for a few hundred.
I chose the Town Car.
When we got off the plane, we saw lots of uniformed drivers with neatly printed signs. And one unshaved guy in jeans holding up a torn piece of cardboard. Took a while for me to realize that it was my name scrawled on the cardboard.
The "Town Car" was a battered old Ford with duct-taped bumpers that spewed black soot out the rear and burped exhaust through the floorboards. I hesitated to go with the guy. I had visions of my uniformed chauffeur lying tied up in an alley next to his stripped vehicle, while this guy abducted the stupid "rich lady". But he had all the proper documents, and the photo matched, and it was 9 pm, and 8-year-old Daughter was asleep on her feet, and it was pre-cell days, and the limousine company didn't answer the one pay phone call I attempted, so I gave up and we went.
I sat in the front so Daughter could sleep on the back seat, and the guy spent the next two hours of the drive apologizing for the car. His personal car was wonderful (a Mustang (which still isn't a Town Car you know)), and he was supposed to use his own car, he's a subcontractor, but he didn't want to put the mileage on it, so he had borrowed this one, and he was sure it was ok with the boss, but he'd appreciate it if I didn't tell him.
I was furious. Even if he did use the other car, it wasn't what I'd paid for.
I was younger and a bit beaten down back then. I should have called the limousine company and demanded at least half my money back, but I just didn't have the energy. I just told all the secretaries who handled the business travel arrangements for The Company.
Heh heh.
If I ever marry again, I want a stretch limousine. Just for the heck of it.
.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
2309 Maybe some progress
Sunday, March 15, 2009
The Hairless Hunk was working on his yard as I passed this afternoon, so I stopped to talk with him. He's going to clear all my fallen trees this week. That'll be nice, because I was getting anxious about the wildflower seeds. I got them in too late last year, and will be cutting it close this year, but I couldn't have them sprouting and THEN have men tromping around and dragging tree trunks.
He also mentioned that he knows a good man to get me some real air conditioning. I've decided not to get geothermal again.
The old heat pump system took water from the well, ran it through a blower, and then dumped it into a dry well. I didn't want to do that again because the system eventually clogs with silt from the well. If I stayed with ground water heat pump, I'd want a closed system. But that means they'd have to bury several hundred feet of pipe like four feet deep in loops around the yard, and it would have to be in the front yard, because the back yard is my septic field, AND the yard is solid rock starting about 18" down. It would take explosives.
Nah. I'll get a regular old condenser in the side yard.
Plus, the Hairless Hunk says he can help me select and then he can install a water softener system for me.
So, things are looking manageable again.
I was beginning to feel like the house was falling apart around me.
.
The Hairless Hunk was working on his yard as I passed this afternoon, so I stopped to talk with him. He's going to clear all my fallen trees this week. That'll be nice, because I was getting anxious about the wildflower seeds. I got them in too late last year, and will be cutting it close this year, but I couldn't have them sprouting and THEN have men tromping around and dragging tree trunks.
He also mentioned that he knows a good man to get me some real air conditioning. I've decided not to get geothermal again.
The old heat pump system took water from the well, ran it through a blower, and then dumped it into a dry well. I didn't want to do that again because the system eventually clogs with silt from the well. If I stayed with ground water heat pump, I'd want a closed system. But that means they'd have to bury several hundred feet of pipe like four feet deep in loops around the yard, and it would have to be in the front yard, because the back yard is my septic field, AND the yard is solid rock starting about 18" down. It would take explosives.
Nah. I'll get a regular old condenser in the side yard.
Plus, the Hairless Hunk says he can help me select and then he can install a water softener system for me.
So, things are looking manageable again.
I was beginning to feel like the house was falling apart around me.
.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
2308 I haven't the faintest idea...
... what I did today, Saturday, March 14.
Saturday. I should have gone to the recycle center, but I didn't. I got up early enough, but ... didn't. I don't know why. I've got four bags of bottles, plastic, and cans, five bags of paper, and a two-foot stack of cardboard. I can't move in the kitchen.
At about 4 pm I crawled into bed, fully dressed except for shoes, hoping for maybe a rare nap, and got three words filled in on a crossword puzzle when Daughter called. So I got out of bed to answer the phone, then didn't go back.
I forgot to eat today.
I tried to make egg salad at about 10 pm, and got an unopened jar of mayonnaise out of the pantry, but then threw it out when I noticed it looked kind of yellow and discovered the date on it was 2003. So I tried tartar sauce, but the date on that was 2005, which I didn't notice until after I'd mixed it with my last two boiled eggs and decided they tasted funny. I should have just used french salad dressing. I think that's only maybe a couple months old, and I like sliced boiled eggs with french dressing dribbled on them. I'm disappointed.
Maybe I'll make some toast. Wish me luck with the peanut butter.
.
Saturday. I should have gone to the recycle center, but I didn't. I got up early enough, but ... didn't. I don't know why. I've got four bags of bottles, plastic, and cans, five bags of paper, and a two-foot stack of cardboard. I can't move in the kitchen.
At about 4 pm I crawled into bed, fully dressed except for shoes, hoping for maybe a rare nap, and got three words filled in on a crossword puzzle when Daughter called. So I got out of bed to answer the phone, then didn't go back.
I forgot to eat today.
I tried to make egg salad at about 10 pm, and got an unopened jar of mayonnaise out of the pantry, but then threw it out when I noticed it looked kind of yellow and discovered the date on it was 2003. So I tried tartar sauce, but the date on that was 2005, which I didn't notice until after I'd mixed it with my last two boiled eggs and decided they tasted funny. I should have just used french salad dressing. I think that's only maybe a couple months old, and I like sliced boiled eggs with french dressing dribbled on them. I'm disappointed.
Maybe I'll make some toast. Wish me luck with the peanut butter.
.
Friday, March 13, 2009
2307 Sigh.
Friday, March 13, 2009
With The Man yesterday into this morning. Things had been happening over the past month, it had been four weeks since I'd seen him last, during which time he had canceled two proposed dates, and, as usual I didn't find out why until it was over. Yeah, ok, it was big, and yeah, ok, he did have to put in that much overtime, and yeah, ok, he is going to reap major benefits from the effort. I can see it, understand it, and agree with it now. But during the dry times, weeks when we are two hours apart but somehow can't get it together, when he can't tell me what's going on, I don't think he realizes how very upset I get. How I begin to wonder why I'm wasting time on him. How I think about how I'm not getting what I need, want, and deserve from this ... this ... whatever it is.
And then I see him again, and I fall in love with him all over again. I love his face. I love his mind. I love his body. I love his strong protectiveness and his boyish enthusiasm. I love his nerdy cluelessness. I forgive his tenuous grasp of time passing.
This cycle has been going on for two years as of last weekend. Two years of being alternately passionately pissed and passionately in love. I adore him when I'm with him, and I'm angry with him when I'm not.
There's something wrong with that.
Chemistry is a sadistic bitch.
.
With The Man yesterday into this morning. Things had been happening over the past month, it had been four weeks since I'd seen him last, during which time he had canceled two proposed dates, and, as usual I didn't find out why until it was over. Yeah, ok, it was big, and yeah, ok, he did have to put in that much overtime, and yeah, ok, he is going to reap major benefits from the effort. I can see it, understand it, and agree with it now. But during the dry times, weeks when we are two hours apart but somehow can't get it together, when he can't tell me what's going on, I don't think he realizes how very upset I get. How I begin to wonder why I'm wasting time on him. How I think about how I'm not getting what I need, want, and deserve from this ... this ... whatever it is.
And then I see him again, and I fall in love with him all over again. I love his face. I love his mind. I love his body. I love his strong protectiveness and his boyish enthusiasm. I love his nerdy cluelessness. I forgive his tenuous grasp of time passing.
This cycle has been going on for two years as of last weekend. Two years of being alternately passionately pissed and passionately in love. I adore him when I'm with him, and I'm angry with him when I'm not.
There's something wrong with that.
Chemistry is a sadistic bitch.
.
2306 Adventures with Alitalia
I very much enjoy Michael J. Totten's posts from hither and yon. If you have ever been delayed in an airport, you must read his post about a near riot in the Alitalia terminal in Rome. Incompetence on top of lies, on top of indifference, followed by more lies.
If I had been there, and if they had taken my luggage, and it was sitting right there, and they refused to give it back, well, I'd have eventually thrown a chair through a window. I am normally very reasonable, but I'm liable to freak out when no one else is willing to be reasonable. I was actually beginning to pant just reading his account (panting is my first sign of impending explosion). I find it difficult to believe that there wasn't a riot.
.
If I had been there, and if they had taken my luggage, and it was sitting right there, and they refused to give it back, well, I'd have eventually thrown a chair through a window. I am normally very reasonable, but I'm liable to freak out when no one else is willing to be reasonable. I was actually beginning to pant just reading his account (panting is my first sign of impending explosion). I find it difficult to believe that there wasn't a riot.
.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
2305 Sad
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
This video is sad in several ways. It's about cleaning out foreclosed homes. One sadness is the toys. The other sadness is that perfectly good things go to the dump. The guy says that they've tried coordinating with charities and it doesn't work.
Yeah, charity would be good, but ANYTHING would be better than just dumping. Maybe they could open the house for a few hours, and anyone who shows up can take anything they want that's not attached.
When I lived in St. Louis and they tore down the Pierre LaClede (sp?) building, they opened it to scavangers first. People got marble panels, carved banisters, all the good stuff was recycled. I ended up with four seven-foot bookcases.
Why did these people leave photos? What is their state of mind? Why, oh why, the dump? So much waste.
.
This video is sad in several ways. It's about cleaning out foreclosed homes. One sadness is the toys. The other sadness is that perfectly good things go to the dump. The guy says that they've tried coordinating with charities and it doesn't work.
Yeah, charity would be good, but ANYTHING would be better than just dumping. Maybe they could open the house for a few hours, and anyone who shows up can take anything they want that's not attached.
When I lived in St. Louis and they tore down the Pierre LaClede (sp?) building, they opened it to scavangers first. People got marble panels, carved banisters, all the good stuff was recycled. I ended up with four seven-foot bookcases.
Why did these people leave photos? What is their state of mind? Why, oh why, the dump? So much waste.
.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
2304 More Photos - Volcano!
[Click to enlarge and see the whole photo.]
I'm really enjoying the Boston photo sites. At
http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/
06/chaiten_volcano_still_active.html
There are photos of the activity at the Chaiten volcano eruption. See especially the lightning photos. Amazing!
2303 More 2008 Photos
More gorgeous Boston news photos from 2008, at
http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/
12/2008_in_photographs_part_2_of.html
There are links there to Parts 1 and 3. It would be an absolute shame if you didn't look.
.
http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/
12/2008_in_photographs_part_2_of.html
There are links there to Parts 1 and 3. It would be an absolute shame if you didn't look.
.
2302 Barbie
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Driving to NJ yesterday to buy Peggy Sue, and to visit Daughter, and driving home, I listened to a lot of talk radio. Not political talk. I don't listen to the politically-motivated radio show hosts because I am aware that their purpose is NOT to educate or explain or explore or solve problems. Their sole purpose is to excite people to talk about them and their shows. Period. I don't like it when people attempt to manipulate my emotions for their own profit.
I listened to mostly news and discussion, interviews and the like. At least three times during the day I had to endure a biography of Barbie. She's 50 years old, you know. In case you haven't heard.
There are at least two versions of how she came to be. One is that the female half of the Mattel founders came up with the idea and fought for an adult doll. The other is that it was a male engineer employee who originated the concept.
I was very annoyed that everyone seemed to agree that Barbie was the first adult doll aimed for children. They say that there was a "Lily" doll in Germany, but that was meant as a sex toy (huh? How?) aimed to adults. (No one has mentioned the French fashion dolls of the 1800's.) So they admit that there were adult-shaped dolls, but insist that Barbie was the first for children.
Bull poopie!
Barbie was NOT the first "fashion doll" (read that as "with breasts"). Let's see - if she's 50, that means she debuted in 1959, right? In 1956 and 1957, Margaret Rae and I spent hours sitting on the floor of her bedroom in Ottawa, designing and sewing clothes for dolls that were the same size and shape as Barbie. I am absolutely certain it was pre-1959, because by 1958 I was back in Pennsylvania.
The dolls Margaret and I and every other girl our age played with were for the most part not sold directly to children in toy departments. You got them from bakeries. They were integral to the most popular of girl-type birthday cakes. The cake was baked in a bowl-shaped pan, the doll was stuck in the middle with the cake as her skirt, and it was all decorated beautifully with frosting lace and ruffles. There was always a metal charm baked into the skirt for luck and a special prize. After the birthday party, the birthday girl got the doll.
She was naked. There were no clothes made for her. We designed and sewed her wardrobe ourselves. The dolls were in great demand, therefore the doll cakes were in great demand, and that was the marketing plan associated with those dolls.
So Barbie was NOT the first adult-shaped doll sold for girls. Barbie was simply the first with a major marketing plan - the clothes, the cars, the houses, all the things she "needed".
Typical of Americans. It's not the product - it's the marketing that makes something special. We are celebrating the 50th birthday not of Barbie, but of the "accessory" marketing plan. Next time you pay $35 for ink for your $50 printer, remember that's the legacy of Barbie.
Who, by the way, was NOT the first adult doll for children.
.
Driving to NJ yesterday to buy Peggy Sue, and to visit Daughter, and driving home, I listened to a lot of talk radio. Not political talk. I don't listen to the politically-motivated radio show hosts because I am aware that their purpose is NOT to educate or explain or explore or solve problems. Their sole purpose is to excite people to talk about them and their shows. Period. I don't like it when people attempt to manipulate my emotions for their own profit.
I listened to mostly news and discussion, interviews and the like. At least three times during the day I had to endure a biography of Barbie. She's 50 years old, you know. In case you haven't heard.
There are at least two versions of how she came to be. One is that the female half of the Mattel founders came up with the idea and fought for an adult doll. The other is that it was a male engineer employee who originated the concept.
I was very annoyed that everyone seemed to agree that Barbie was the first adult doll aimed for children. They say that there was a "Lily" doll in Germany, but that was meant as a sex toy (huh? How?) aimed to adults. (No one has mentioned the French fashion dolls of the 1800's.) So they admit that there were adult-shaped dolls, but insist that Barbie was the first for children.
Bull poopie!
Barbie was NOT the first "fashion doll" (read that as "with breasts"). Let's see - if she's 50, that means she debuted in 1959, right? In 1956 and 1957, Margaret Rae and I spent hours sitting on the floor of her bedroom in Ottawa, designing and sewing clothes for dolls that were the same size and shape as Barbie. I am absolutely certain it was pre-1959, because by 1958 I was back in Pennsylvania.
The dolls Margaret and I and every other girl our age played with were for the most part not sold directly to children in toy departments. You got them from bakeries. They were integral to the most popular of girl-type birthday cakes. The cake was baked in a bowl-shaped pan, the doll was stuck in the middle with the cake as her skirt, and it was all decorated beautifully with frosting lace and ruffles. There was always a metal charm baked into the skirt for luck and a special prize. After the birthday party, the birthday girl got the doll.
She was naked. There were no clothes made for her. We designed and sewed her wardrobe ourselves. The dolls were in great demand, therefore the doll cakes were in great demand, and that was the marketing plan associated with those dolls.
So Barbie was NOT the first adult-shaped doll sold for girls. Barbie was simply the first with a major marketing plan - the clothes, the cars, the houses, all the things she "needed".
Typical of Americans. It's not the product - it's the marketing that makes something special. We are celebrating the 50th birthday not of Barbie, but of the "accessory" marketing plan. Next time you pay $35 for ink for your $50 printer, remember that's the legacy of Barbie.
Who, by the way, was NOT the first adult doll for children.
.
2301 Meet Peggy Sue
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Yesterday I went to a warehouse in East Brunswick, NJ, and bought a mannequin. Why? Just 'cause I want one. Actually, it's because I noticed that clothing displayed on a mannequin online sells for a lot more than the same thing displayed on a hanger or spread out on a bed. And mannequins are not at all as expensive as I thought they were.
The lady I got is surprisingly heavy. She comes apart at the neck, shoulders, waist, wrist, and the left leg comes off at the hip. For $12 more I got a long straight black wig.
I went in with an idea of what I wanted:
Average height
No face (smooth egg-shaped head)
Not terribly skinny (size 8-ish would be perfect)
Matte skin, so it wouldn't reflect flash through sheer fabric
White or silver or tan color, not black because I lot of what I want to sell is black
There were perhaps 50 different models in the display room, but I quickly got narrowed down to about 4, because, surprise, only a few of the mannequins were less than six feet tall. I didn't know that. No wonder clothes look good in stores! Most mannequins are tall, and super skinny. You can get them with fuller bodies, but those are special order and much more expensive.
So, my lady has a face, with brown eyes and amazing long false eyelashes. At 5'8", she's 32" x 24" x 34".
I asked the Asian saleswoman if my model had a name, and was told yes, her name is PS-G2. So, meet Peggy Sue:
.
Yesterday I went to a warehouse in East Brunswick, NJ, and bought a mannequin. Why? Just 'cause I want one. Actually, it's because I noticed that clothing displayed on a mannequin online sells for a lot more than the same thing displayed on a hanger or spread out on a bed. And mannequins are not at all as expensive as I thought they were.
The lady I got is surprisingly heavy. She comes apart at the neck, shoulders, waist, wrist, and the left leg comes off at the hip. For $12 more I got a long straight black wig.
I went in with an idea of what I wanted:
Average height
No face (smooth egg-shaped head)
Not terribly skinny (size 8-ish would be perfect)
Matte skin, so it wouldn't reflect flash through sheer fabric
White or silver or tan color, not black because I lot of what I want to sell is black
There were perhaps 50 different models in the display room, but I quickly got narrowed down to about 4, because, surprise, only a few of the mannequins were less than six feet tall. I didn't know that. No wonder clothes look good in stores! Most mannequins are tall, and super skinny. You can get them with fuller bodies, but those are special order and much more expensive.
So, my lady has a face, with brown eyes and amazing long false eyelashes. At 5'8", she's 32" x 24" x 34".
I asked the Asian saleswoman if my model had a name, and was told yes, her name is PS-G2. So, meet Peggy Sue:
.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
2300 I'll trade...
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Yesterday it was warm, over 60 F, with dull white skies. But warm. So I thought I'd go for a walk. As soon as I opened the door, the rain came.
Today it is warm, over 60 F, with spotty blue and white sky, so I thought I'd go for a walk. But the sun never came out from behind the clouds, and the breeze was sharp, and it chilled me.
I'd happily trade 20 of those degrees for bright sun.
------------------------
I read somewhere yesterday that "depression is actually anger without enthusiasm".
Interesting thought. Whoever said it may be correct in many cases. I've known a few people diagnosed and treated for clinical depression (Ex#2, FW, a few others), and they all carried enormous amounts of unacknowledged and unexpressed anger.
Don't jump on me, I'm not saying all, but it seems to have been true in my experience. It also says nothing about which came first. But, for me, it is true that the folks I have known who presented as depressed were also filled to overflowing with anger, the genesis usually anger at the unfairness of institutions or systems that they had been taught they must respect (which anger they were not allowed to recognize, let alone express, because it was "bad" to do so) and then it spread to all aspects of their life.
Justified anger, reasonably and enthusiastically expressed, and recognized and accepted by others, is healthy.
Ahah! This blog IS my therapy!
-------------------------
We should all be bankruptcy lawyers.
Whenever someone is put in charge of dispersing assets, whether the executor of an estate or the administrator of a bankruptcy, the court has to approve their fees, to prevent raiding of the estate or of the assets of the company.
Handling a bankruptcy is detailed work, hard work. But I don't see where it's so much harder than other legal services. So what would make a bankruptcy law firm decide that it deserves $1100 per hour, per lawyer? Holy @#$%^&*!!
The judge decided it was excessive, too, and is forcing them to accept only a piddling $925 per hour. Per lawyer. And assistants, no doubt.
What could possibly make them worth that much per hour?
[The above link is to http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601087&sid=a9IvitqCh_ZQ&refer=home. It's safe.]
.
Yesterday it was warm, over 60 F, with dull white skies. But warm. So I thought I'd go for a walk. As soon as I opened the door, the rain came.
Today it is warm, over 60 F, with spotty blue and white sky, so I thought I'd go for a walk. But the sun never came out from behind the clouds, and the breeze was sharp, and it chilled me.
I'd happily trade 20 of those degrees for bright sun.
------------------------
I read somewhere yesterday that "depression is actually anger without enthusiasm".
Interesting thought. Whoever said it may be correct in many cases. I've known a few people diagnosed and treated for clinical depression (Ex#2, FW, a few others), and they all carried enormous amounts of unacknowledged and unexpressed anger.
Don't jump on me, I'm not saying all, but it seems to have been true in my experience. It also says nothing about which came first. But, for me, it is true that the folks I have known who presented as depressed were also filled to overflowing with anger, the genesis usually anger at the unfairness of institutions or systems that they had been taught they must respect (which anger they were not allowed to recognize, let alone express, because it was "bad" to do so) and then it spread to all aspects of their life.
Justified anger, reasonably and enthusiastically expressed, and recognized and accepted by others, is healthy.
Ahah! This blog IS my therapy!
-------------------------
We should all be bankruptcy lawyers.
Whenever someone is put in charge of dispersing assets, whether the executor of an estate or the administrator of a bankruptcy, the court has to approve their fees, to prevent raiding of the estate or of the assets of the company.
Handling a bankruptcy is detailed work, hard work. But I don't see where it's so much harder than other legal services. So what would make a bankruptcy law firm decide that it deserves $1100 per hour, per lawyer? Holy @#$%^&*!!
The judge decided it was excessive, too, and is forcing them to accept only a piddling $925 per hour. Per lawyer. And assistants, no doubt.
What could possibly make them worth that much per hour?
[The above link is to http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601087&sid=a9IvitqCh_ZQ&refer=home. It's safe.]
.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
2299 Symmetry
Saturday, March 7, 2009
The left-to-right, superficial bilateral symmetry of the mammalian body is a very good design. When you find something odd on one side of your cat (or yourself), you can check the other side, and if it's there too, you can relax.
.
The left-to-right, superficial bilateral symmetry of the mammalian body is a very good design. When you find something odd on one side of your cat (or yourself), you can check the other side, and if it's there too, you can relax.
.
2298 Thinking it over
Saturday, March 7, 2009
I resigned from The Company three times, and they hired me three times. They even gave me the same serial number each time, and updated my hire-in date to show continuous service. If I wanted to go back to work now, I'm fairly sure they'd find something for me. I have an impressive folder. But, looking over the past forty years, I realize now that starting with them was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Bad choice. I hated every moment with them. I should have stayed in teaching, something I loved.
(Of course, then maybe I would not have met Jay, which is one of the few things I did right. On the other hand, it turned out we'd been circling each other for decades before we met, so maybe we'd have met even without The Company. I don't know.)
Two out of three of my marriages were to the wrong men. Bad choices. There were reasons, of course, for why they sort of looked right at the time, but there were also negative signs, and I ignored them.
Having a medical scare makes you look at where you are now, what you're doing, what you really want compared to what you have. Reevaluate the path you've chosen.
I don't know what I'll do about it, but I want more.
I want to live in a warm place, without snow.
I want a man I can go to for hugs when I need them, without getting a lecture as to why it's impossible this week.
I want to make things, to create.
I want a clean neat house.
I've gotta think about this.
.
I resigned from The Company three times, and they hired me three times. They even gave me the same serial number each time, and updated my hire-in date to show continuous service. If I wanted to go back to work now, I'm fairly sure they'd find something for me. I have an impressive folder. But, looking over the past forty years, I realize now that starting with them was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Bad choice. I hated every moment with them. I should have stayed in teaching, something I loved.
(Of course, then maybe I would not have met Jay, which is one of the few things I did right. On the other hand, it turned out we'd been circling each other for decades before we met, so maybe we'd have met even without The Company. I don't know.)
Two out of three of my marriages were to the wrong men. Bad choices. There were reasons, of course, for why they sort of looked right at the time, but there were also negative signs, and I ignored them.
Having a medical scare makes you look at where you are now, what you're doing, what you really want compared to what you have. Reevaluate the path you've chosen.
I don't know what I'll do about it, but I want more.
I want to live in a warm place, without snow.
I want a man I can go to for hugs when I need them, without getting a lecture as to why it's impossible this week.
I want to make things, to create.
I want a clean neat house.
I've gotta think about this.
.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
2297 Not Helping My Mood
Ok. Read this New York Times piece: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/05/world/americas/05briefs-9YEAROLDSABO_BRF.html?_r=2&ref=world
Opinions? Sorry, I can't give mine without using a bunch of bad words I can almost guarantee you've never heard before. But I'll give you a hint. It's not enough that he raped her, but the Church doesn't care if he ultimately kills her (oh, wait, they probably figure that she seduced him, so shares the sin, oh, wait, she's female so she has no standing in the church anyway, and nine-year-old kids are fair game anyway). And who's going to take care of the babies? Oh, yeah, since he's the father, he can take responsibility when he gets out of jail. They might be about 8 by then, just the right age.
.
Opinions? Sorry, I can't give mine without using a bunch of bad words I can almost guarantee you've never heard before. But I'll give you a hint. It's not enough that he raped her, but the Church doesn't care if he ultimately kills her (oh, wait, they probably figure that she seduced him, so shares the sin, oh, wait, she's female so she has no standing in the church anyway, and nine-year-old kids are fair game anyway). And who's going to take care of the babies? Oh, yeah, since he's the father, he can take responsibility when he gets out of jail. They might be about 8 by then, just the right age.
.
2296 Dear Folks,
Attention: "formally known as" and "formerly known as" are NOT the same, even if you do insist upon pronouncing them the same!
Sigh.
Sigh.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
2295 Sexting (I hate that word!)
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The plumber came by. He's going to put a new silt filter in on Friday, in a more accessible spot. Another $300.
Why do people feel like they have to make up new words? "Sexting" = sending text messages with sexual content. It's not just sending text, though. It includes emailing and posting on the internet.
The Massachusetts Berkshire County DA has decided to get tough with teens (and anyone else) who sends, receives, or forwards photos or messages with sexual content involving minors. The kids are taking explicit photos of themselves or others and passing them around, or posting them on social sites like Facebook, and he's threatening to charge them with kiddy porn. Very good story here, the official DA site, with (what I find to be) shocking statistics.
A lot of people are blaming the technology for the rash of topless teens out there.
It's not the technology to be blamed. It's worse. It's a whole social atmosphere of "anything goes", and "why not". It's ordinary street clothes that look like lingerie. Office attire that flashes parts of the body normally kept private. It's expectations out of control, expectations expecting to be met.
It's not the technology. Victorians sketched. It's what one did. And it was not unusual for a young man finding himself alone with a woman and a sketch pad and a pencil to ask her if she'd be willing to take off her top for art. And the young lady would raise her eyebrows, laugh at him, and keep her top on. Hey, it didn't hurt to ask.
When I was in high school and college, every so often a guy would get hold of a Polaroid camera, and he'd ask, beg, hopping from one foot to another in anxiety, and the girl would raise her eyebrows, laugh at him, and keep her top on. Hey, it didn't hurt to ask.
Now the girls often are taking the photos themselves. Nobody has to ask.
There's something very wrong with their thinking.
I blame Madonna, and all those who followed in her footsteps.
.
The plumber came by. He's going to put a new silt filter in on Friday, in a more accessible spot. Another $300.
Why do people feel like they have to make up new words? "Sexting" = sending text messages with sexual content. It's not just sending text, though. It includes emailing and posting on the internet.
The Massachusetts Berkshire County DA has decided to get tough with teens (and anyone else) who sends, receives, or forwards photos or messages with sexual content involving minors. The kids are taking explicit photos of themselves or others and passing them around, or posting them on social sites like Facebook, and he's threatening to charge them with kiddy porn. Very good story here, the official DA site, with (what I find to be) shocking statistics.
A lot of people are blaming the technology for the rash of topless teens out there.
It's not the technology to be blamed. It's worse. It's a whole social atmosphere of "anything goes", and "why not". It's ordinary street clothes that look like lingerie. Office attire that flashes parts of the body normally kept private. It's expectations out of control, expectations expecting to be met.
It's not the technology. Victorians sketched. It's what one did. And it was not unusual for a young man finding himself alone with a woman and a sketch pad and a pencil to ask her if she'd be willing to take off her top for art. And the young lady would raise her eyebrows, laugh at him, and keep her top on. Hey, it didn't hurt to ask.
When I was in high school and college, every so often a guy would get hold of a Polaroid camera, and he'd ask, beg, hopping from one foot to another in anxiety, and the girl would raise her eyebrows, laugh at him, and keep her top on. Hey, it didn't hurt to ask.
Now the girls often are taking the photos themselves. Nobody has to ask.
There's something very wrong with their thinking.
I blame Madonna, and all those who followed in her footsteps.
.
2294 Progression and other bits
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Still sick, but it's different now. My throat isn't sore, and my muscles feel a little better, but the coughing has kicked up to where I can't talk without coughing, and when I cough I wet my pants. Add a mild diarrhea and a strange weakness in my legs (I'm walking like I'm drunk), and I'm still miserable.
People have asked "What are you taking for it?" and offer me Z-Packs and decongestants, and recommend aspirin. I believe this is a virus, so antibiotics are counter-productive. There is no congestion. I'm coughing because the back of my throat is super dry. I'm not taking aspirin for the fever, because I believe fever (as long as it's not out of control) is the body's way of fighting invaders - a way to make the body inhospitable to colonization. So I'm doing hot soaks, gargling with mouthwash, sucking on honey-lemon drops, and resting. I slept 13 hours last night. I figure I've got two more days of miserable, followed by two weeks of coughing, and then it will be over.
--------------------------
I assume by now everyone has heard about the woman who was ticketed for breastfeeding her baby and talking on the cell phone at the same time, while driving her other children to school. The baby's head was resting on the steering wheel (think "air bag"). She says that when she gets out of jail, she'll probably do it again, because when the baby's hungry, he needs to be fed.
She's an idiot.
--------------------------
In other news, there's the saga of the the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition family in Atlanta whose deteriorating one-story ranch was replaced by a $450,000+ castle.
I always wondered about that show - when a modest house is replaced by a mini-mansion, the taxes have got to go up, utilities have to be much higher, and how do the families manage the taxes and general upkeep? Well, it turns out that the show gives them enough money to pay the taxes for 25 years (around here, for a house that size, that's over $200,000). Plus this family in Atlanta was given college tuition money, and a car, and I don't know what else.
So, they've got a brand new $450,000+ 5,000+ sq ft house with no mortgage, 25 years worth of taxes, and tuition money.
What did they do? They went to the bank and got a $450,000 equity loan on the house, ostensibly to start a business, which apparently was never started.
So, let's see. They have $450,000 from the bank, cash for 25 years worth of taxes, and who knows what else. They never made any payment on the loan, and are giving the house to the bank, and walking away with the money.
Ya gotta admire the gall. They can buy another reasonably-sized house and still have a half a million left over. Neighbors and the community volunteers who worked on the house are justifiably pissed.
Apparently it's not a rare problem. Other recipients of the show's largess have done the same thing - used the house for collateral for loans they can't repay.
So, now, how do I apply for the show? I could use a quick half-million....
.
Still sick, but it's different now. My throat isn't sore, and my muscles feel a little better, but the coughing has kicked up to where I can't talk without coughing, and when I cough I wet my pants. Add a mild diarrhea and a strange weakness in my legs (I'm walking like I'm drunk), and I'm still miserable.
People have asked "What are you taking for it?" and offer me Z-Packs and decongestants, and recommend aspirin. I believe this is a virus, so antibiotics are counter-productive. There is no congestion. I'm coughing because the back of my throat is super dry. I'm not taking aspirin for the fever, because I believe fever (as long as it's not out of control) is the body's way of fighting invaders - a way to make the body inhospitable to colonization. So I'm doing hot soaks, gargling with mouthwash, sucking on honey-lemon drops, and resting. I slept 13 hours last night. I figure I've got two more days of miserable, followed by two weeks of coughing, and then it will be over.
--------------------------
I assume by now everyone has heard about the woman who was ticketed for breastfeeding her baby and talking on the cell phone at the same time, while driving her other children to school. The baby's head was resting on the steering wheel (think "air bag"). She says that when she gets out of jail, she'll probably do it again, because when the baby's hungry, he needs to be fed.
She's an idiot.
--------------------------
In other news, there's the saga of the the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition family in Atlanta whose deteriorating one-story ranch was replaced by a $450,000+ castle.
I always wondered about that show - when a modest house is replaced by a mini-mansion, the taxes have got to go up, utilities have to be much higher, and how do the families manage the taxes and general upkeep? Well, it turns out that the show gives them enough money to pay the taxes for 25 years (around here, for a house that size, that's over $200,000). Plus this family in Atlanta was given college tuition money, and a car, and I don't know what else.
So, they've got a brand new $450,000+ 5,000+ sq ft house with no mortgage, 25 years worth of taxes, and tuition money.
What did they do? They went to the bank and got a $450,000 equity loan on the house, ostensibly to start a business, which apparently was never started.
So, let's see. They have $450,000 from the bank, cash for 25 years worth of taxes, and who knows what else. They never made any payment on the loan, and are giving the house to the bank, and walking away with the money.
Ya gotta admire the gall. They can buy another reasonably-sized house and still have a half a million left over. Neighbors and the community volunteers who worked on the house are justifiably pissed.
Apparently it's not a rare problem. Other recipients of the show's largess have done the same thing - used the house for collateral for loans they can't repay.
So, now, how do I apply for the show? I could use a quick half-million....
.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
2293 Sick
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I'm sick. Miserable. Saturday at the tax clinic I had a minor choking episode - water went down the wrong way and the little trap door in there spasmed and snapped shut and I couldn't breathe for a bit. Trying to clear it tore up my throat. I thought at the time, "Uh oh. This is going to cause a problem. Highway for germs, and there's a lot of them here today."
I now have a raging sore throat, slight fever, headaches, and body aches. Probably a virus. My scalp itches like mad, and that's often a sign (with me) of major immune system activity. I took a long hot bath, and now I'm even more miserable. I used a eucalyptus bath salt that was supposed to be good for aching muscles, and now I smell like I bathed in Vicks Vaporub. Worse, the muscles still ache.
Snork.
.
I'm sick. Miserable. Saturday at the tax clinic I had a minor choking episode - water went down the wrong way and the little trap door in there spasmed and snapped shut and I couldn't breathe for a bit. Trying to clear it tore up my throat. I thought at the time, "Uh oh. This is going to cause a problem. Highway for germs, and there's a lot of them here today."
I now have a raging sore throat, slight fever, headaches, and body aches. Probably a virus. My scalp itches like mad, and that's often a sign (with me) of major immune system activity. I took a long hot bath, and now I'm even more miserable. I used a eucalyptus bath salt that was supposed to be good for aching muscles, and now I smell like I bathed in Vicks Vaporub. Worse, the muscles still ache.
Snork.
.
Monday, March 02, 2009
2292 Still Feeling Mean
Monday, March 2, 2009
Back when I had to hide this blog, I did it by unchecking the setting that allowed search engines to find it, and by changing the URL.
Unchecking the setting was easy. Changing the URL was not.
I had a half-dozen or more possible names in mind, but when I tried to use them, Blogger told me that the name was already in use. So I'd go to that URL to see who was using it and what they were doing with it, and I'd find a five-year-old blog with one five-year-old test post. That happened over and over.
My first choice was IDontUnderstand.blogspot.com (of course). That one exists, contains 10 entries from two months in mid-2002. Why is she still sitting on it?
Look, folks, if you don't want to use the name, give it back! Unregister it. Release it for Blogger to let someone else use it!
Or maybe Blogger should contact the owners who haven't posted in a year or two (they have an email id connected to the blog), and if there's no further action within a certain period, the blog is unregistered and deleted. If nothing else, think of all those moribund blogs sitting out there taking up storage. Will they live forever?
What started this rant was my finding the other day a blogger who was lamenting the great ideas he had, but had no time to implement. He then proceeded to list thirty-one blog names/URLs and what he had planned to fill them with - mostly news and innovations in aspects of his profession and related areas.
I checked. Yeah, he had started all of them three to seven years ago, and none of them had anything in them. Thirty-one good descriptive blog names/URLs, and he had locked them up and then didn't use them.
Thanks fella. From me on principle, and from other members of your profession who might have made better use of those URLs.
.
Back when I had to hide this blog, I did it by unchecking the setting that allowed search engines to find it, and by changing the URL.
Unchecking the setting was easy. Changing the URL was not.
I had a half-dozen or more possible names in mind, but when I tried to use them, Blogger told me that the name was already in use. So I'd go to that URL to see who was using it and what they were doing with it, and I'd find a five-year-old blog with one five-year-old test post. That happened over and over.
My first choice was IDontUnderstand.blogspot.com (of course). That one exists, contains 10 entries from two months in mid-2002. Why is she still sitting on it?
Look, folks, if you don't want to use the name, give it back! Unregister it. Release it for Blogger to let someone else use it!
Or maybe Blogger should contact the owners who haven't posted in a year or two (they have an email id connected to the blog), and if there's no further action within a certain period, the blog is unregistered and deleted. If nothing else, think of all those moribund blogs sitting out there taking up storage. Will they live forever?
What started this rant was my finding the other day a blogger who was lamenting the great ideas he had, but had no time to implement. He then proceeded to list thirty-one blog names/URLs and what he had planned to fill them with - mostly news and innovations in aspects of his profession and related areas.
I checked. Yeah, he had started all of them three to seven years ago, and none of them had anything in them. Thirty-one good descriptive blog names/URLs, and he had locked them up and then didn't use them.
Thanks fella. From me on principle, and from other members of your profession who might have made better use of those URLs.
.
2291 Feeling Mean, Feeling Smug
Monday, March 2, 2009
I'm feeling particularly mean today. Annoyed. A lot of anger. I can't blast it at the source, but it's got to come out somewhere, so fasten a seat belt.
There are certain people whose blogs one should never read:
- Anyone you know in real life and want to like.
- Anyone you work with and need to not dislike.
- Any relatives it's inconvenient to dislike.
Yeah. I've about had it with a one o'them.
He is a very intelligent, capable, hard worker. Dependable. Gracious. This is all such good stuff. He cultivates an external appearance of modesty, humbleness, and sweetness. He credits his good fortune to God. You can't help but like him at first.
But after a while it changes.
In his blog he admits to small failures and imperfections, makes gentle fun of himself. But then you start to notice arrogance, and pride in his very lack of pride, if that makes any sense. That's the part that bites my tail the most.
Where one person would say, "I just did this thing, and wow, I was so lucky, it worked out so well, let me tell you about it", he will say, "I worked hard finding out about all about this thing, and then I did this and this, and it worked very well, and it could work as well for you, too, if you're willing to put as much thought and work into it as I did, you could do it too."
Gee. Thanks for your confidence in the rest of us.
Then he follows that up with a reminder of how modest and humble and grateful he is. That makes my teeth hurt.
You know, it's ok to be arrogant. It's ok to take credit when you know you did a good job. It's ok to be what you are, whatever that is. There's at the very least honesty and integrity in that. It's the false pose that bugs me.
I think I'm going to have to let him go.
--------------------------
If I'm the same way, I apologize. But I don't think I pretend to be modest.
I'm feeling particularly mean today. Annoyed. A lot of anger. I can't blast it at the source, but it's got to come out somewhere, so fasten a seat belt.
There are certain people whose blogs one should never read:
- Anyone you know in real life and want to like.
- Anyone you work with and need to not dislike.
- Any relatives it's inconvenient to dislike.
Yeah. I've about had it with a one o'them.
He is a very intelligent, capable, hard worker. Dependable. Gracious. This is all such good stuff. He cultivates an external appearance of modesty, humbleness, and sweetness. He credits his good fortune to God. You can't help but like him at first.
But after a while it changes.
In his blog he admits to small failures and imperfections, makes gentle fun of himself. But then you start to notice arrogance, and pride in his very lack of pride, if that makes any sense. That's the part that bites my tail the most.
Where one person would say, "I just did this thing, and wow, I was so lucky, it worked out so well, let me tell you about it", he will say, "I worked hard finding out about all about this thing, and then I did this and this, and it worked very well, and it could work as well for you, too, if you're willing to put as much thought and work into it as I did, you could do it too."
Gee. Thanks for your confidence in the rest of us.
Then he follows that up with a reminder of how modest and humble and grateful he is. That makes my teeth hurt.
You know, it's ok to be arrogant. It's ok to take credit when you know you did a good job. It's ok to be what you are, whatever that is. There's at the very least honesty and integrity in that. It's the false pose that bugs me.
I think I'm going to have to let him go.
--------------------------
If I'm the same way, I apologize. But I don't think I pretend to be modest.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
2290 Lasting Media, lasting fur
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I yell at the TV a lot. I yelled at "Sunday Morning" today. They'd done a piece on how a lot of material produced only a decade ago cannot now be read, because the program under which it was produced no longer exists, or the device for reading or playing it is obsolete. They called it "data rot". ***
And then the reporter said, "There never has been and never will be a format that lasts forever."
I exploded.
I have actually TOUCHED the Rosetta stone! I have seen prehistoric cave paintings in Europe, and traced runes carved into the walls of megalithic tombs. People are still reading Sumerian clay tablets. I personally own 150-year-old books and photographs, and by damn I can still read them.
"Never has been" indeed. Stupid child. What is now is not what has always been. Once upon a time we did it better in terms of lasting through eternity.
------------------------
***Actually, that's not "data rot". Data rot is when the data on the storage device weakens, deteriorates, disappears. For example, the data on a well-stored vinyl phonograph record does not deteriorate, because it's physical, on a stable base. The data on well-stored magnetic tape or disks will deteriorate all by itself. That's data rot. That's what Jay's father was working on before the Alzheimer's hit him - trying to find the least expensive way to preserve the data on CDs and DVDs, which also deteriorate over time.
What the reporter was referring to is more properly called "technological creep".
------------------
I wore my fake silver fox jacket to the deli today, and the clerk asked if it was real. (I have two fakes, and the silver is a pretty good fake. The other is a longer brown fake beaver, and that one is very frankly fake.) The clerk agreed that the fox was a good fake, and asked if I ever had people get nasty because I was wearing "fur".
It's funny. The only time I've had any problem was when I was wearing a very frankly fake. I mean it was so fake it was dull, fuzzy, and matted.
One day I was standing in line at the grocery store, wearing that jacket. The woman behind me in line was being very loud, saying things like that the smell of death was nauseating her, that she despised people who killed for vanity, blah blah blah, and - note that she was wearing leather shoes and had meat in her basket, and that (um, I forget the word, but it's when you say one thing and do another) annoyed me.
She kept getting louder and louder.
Anyhow, after I'd paid the bill and was about to leave, I turned to her and said, very loudly, "Hey. A little respect here. Twenty polyesters died to make this coat."
She reared back and blustered a bit, and said,"And I'm sure it looked better on them!"
The entire grocery store cracked up.
.
I yell at the TV a lot. I yelled at "Sunday Morning" today. They'd done a piece on how a lot of material produced only a decade ago cannot now be read, because the program under which it was produced no longer exists, or the device for reading or playing it is obsolete. They called it "data rot". ***
And then the reporter said, "There never has been and never will be a format that lasts forever."
I exploded.
I have actually TOUCHED the Rosetta stone! I have seen prehistoric cave paintings in Europe, and traced runes carved into the walls of megalithic tombs. People are still reading Sumerian clay tablets. I personally own 150-year-old books and photographs, and by damn I can still read them.
"Never has been" indeed. Stupid child. What is now is not what has always been. Once upon a time we did it better in terms of lasting through eternity.
------------------------
***Actually, that's not "data rot". Data rot is when the data on the storage device weakens, deteriorates, disappears. For example, the data on a well-stored vinyl phonograph record does not deteriorate, because it's physical, on a stable base. The data on well-stored magnetic tape or disks will deteriorate all by itself. That's data rot. That's what Jay's father was working on before the Alzheimer's hit him - trying to find the least expensive way to preserve the data on CDs and DVDs, which also deteriorate over time.
What the reporter was referring to is more properly called "technological creep".
------------------
I wore my fake silver fox jacket to the deli today, and the clerk asked if it was real. (I have two fakes, and the silver is a pretty good fake. The other is a longer brown fake beaver, and that one is very frankly fake.) The clerk agreed that the fox was a good fake, and asked if I ever had people get nasty because I was wearing "fur".
It's funny. The only time I've had any problem was when I was wearing a very frankly fake. I mean it was so fake it was dull, fuzzy, and matted.
One day I was standing in line at the grocery store, wearing that jacket. The woman behind me in line was being very loud, saying things like that the smell of death was nauseating her, that she despised people who killed for vanity, blah blah blah, and - note that she was wearing leather shoes and had meat in her basket, and that (um, I forget the word, but it's when you say one thing and do another) annoyed me.
She kept getting louder and louder.
Anyhow, after I'd paid the bill and was about to leave, I turned to her and said, very loudly, "Hey. A little respect here. Twenty polyesters died to make this coat."
She reared back and blustered a bit, and said,"And I'm sure it looked better on them!"
The entire grocery store cracked up.
.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
2289 Second thoughts
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Yesterday I was happy that the surgeon said that nothing she'd seen or felt indicated a need for any further testing.
But.
Today I'm bothered by that, because it's not a statement that I don't have IBC. So I don't know that I don't. Know what I mean?
From the research I've done, if it's there, it's best to find it as soon as possible. The miserable survival numbers are because people let it go so long. By the time you see external indications, it's very serious.
The doctor said to contact her immediately if I have any further problem - which I am now hearing as, "if it's there, let's wait until it's more advanced." (Not that I really think she's saying that. What she thinks and says and what I hear can be quite different.)
I'm thinking now I'd prefer a biopsy followed by a negative reading.
Agh. Shoot me now.
.
Yesterday I was happy that the surgeon said that nothing she'd seen or felt indicated a need for any further testing.
But.
Today I'm bothered by that, because it's not a statement that I don't have IBC. So I don't know that I don't. Know what I mean?
From the research I've done, if it's there, it's best to find it as soon as possible. The miserable survival numbers are because people let it go so long. By the time you see external indications, it's very serious.
The doctor said to contact her immediately if I have any further problem - which I am now hearing as, "if it's there, let's wait until it's more advanced." (Not that I really think she's saying that. What she thinks and says and what I hear can be quite different.)
I'm thinking now I'd prefer a biopsy followed by a negative reading.
Agh. Shoot me now.
.
Friday, February 27, 2009
2288 Surgeon, Water
Friday, February 27, 2009
Saw the breast surgeon this afternoon. She looked at my films, took my history, poked and prodded, and was impressed with my general level of health. She says she sees no reason to do anything intrusive at this time. It was probably either a stress-related hormonal change, or a simple infection. However, if it happens again, I should see her immediately.
I asked, and the "chicklets" in the one mammogram frame are lymph nodes, and they look exactly as they should.
The plumber arrived with three helpers. They pulled the pump, and discovered that the real problem was not the pump (which is at the bottom of the well), but the pipe that comes up from the bottom. It had a large crack, and broke when they pulled it up. That added $500 to the parts list. Joy. But tonight I not only have water, I have hot water, too.
Now, excuse me while I go eat cake and ice cream, and find some pretty bauble for myself on eBay. A pretty, CHEAP bauble.
.
Saw the breast surgeon this afternoon. She looked at my films, took my history, poked and prodded, and was impressed with my general level of health. She says she sees no reason to do anything intrusive at this time. It was probably either a stress-related hormonal change, or a simple infection. However, if it happens again, I should see her immediately.
I asked, and the "chicklets" in the one mammogram frame are lymph nodes, and they look exactly as they should.
The plumber arrived with three helpers. They pulled the pump, and discovered that the real problem was not the pump (which is at the bottom of the well), but the pipe that comes up from the bottom. It had a large crack, and broke when they pulled it up. That added $500 to the parts list. Joy. But tonight I not only have water, I have hot water, too.
Now, excuse me while I go eat cake and ice cream, and find some pretty bauble for myself on eBay. A pretty, CHEAP bauble.
.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
2287 Water, and a certain lack of support
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The plumber just called. He'll be by to drop off parts and materials this evening, then back "first thing" tomorrow to get started. He promises I'll have water tomorrow evening.
I was supposed to meet The Man this evening. It's been two weeks since we last got together. Last week he was putting in a lot of overtime with the auditors. Yesterday he canceled this evening because his car has died (electrical system), and won't be fixed until probably early next week. I don't know how he's getting to work. He had a rental for a few days, but apparently not now. I haven't asked.
I have the appointment with the surgeon tomorrow, so I really did want to see him this evening. He's aware of the appointment, but I guess not how I feel. I haven't told him.
I'm beginning to think maybe we have a communication problem. Being male, he sees no problem. I don't push him for explanations all the time, and I don't dump emotional crap on him, and if he notices at all I'm sure he appreciates that. But, I'm beginning to think that's going to have to change. He's going to have to give a little more.
-----------------------
If you're wondering what the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act contains, where the money's going, and would like to track it, go to Recovery.gov, where you'll find tracking information, progress reports, a breakdown of various purposes of the money, and, if you want it, the complete text of the actual bill.
------------------------
Following up on an earlier post, where Piper had advised me to sell some losing stocks, then buy them back after 30 days, to book a loss that we can apply against my taxes for the next few years - I didn't do it, for the reasons given in that post (near the bottom).
.
The plumber just called. He'll be by to drop off parts and materials this evening, then back "first thing" tomorrow to get started. He promises I'll have water tomorrow evening.
I was supposed to meet The Man this evening. It's been two weeks since we last got together. Last week he was putting in a lot of overtime with the auditors. Yesterday he canceled this evening because his car has died (electrical system), and won't be fixed until probably early next week. I don't know how he's getting to work. He had a rental for a few days, but apparently not now. I haven't asked.
I have the appointment with the surgeon tomorrow, so I really did want to see him this evening. He's aware of the appointment, but I guess not how I feel. I haven't told him.
I'm beginning to think maybe we have a communication problem. Being male, he sees no problem. I don't push him for explanations all the time, and I don't dump emotional crap on him, and if he notices at all I'm sure he appreciates that. But, I'm beginning to think that's going to have to change. He's going to have to give a little more.
-----------------------
If you're wondering what the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act contains, where the money's going, and would like to track it, go to Recovery.gov, where you'll find tracking information, progress reports, a breakdown of various purposes of the money, and, if you want it, the complete text of the actual bill.
------------------------
Following up on an earlier post, where Piper had advised me to sell some losing stocks, then buy them back after 30 days, to book a loss that we can apply against my taxes for the next few years - I didn't do it, for the reasons given in that post (near the bottom).
.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
2286 Cave House
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
There's a unique house for sale in Festus, Missouri. The eBay listing is here. The listing ends on March 11 or so (sooner if they get a good offer). If you go look, the photos in the middle of the listing may not show up - but there's more near the end.
The house is built into a cave. (Well, they call it a cave. Actually it's an old mine.) 17,000 square feet, spread over three chambers. The living area is in the front chamber. The second chamber is 40'x40', and makes a good party/game area. The third, or back chamber, is huge, and contains a stage where, back in the '70s and '80s or something, some well-known music groups performed. In the photos, the green-tinted tunnel-looking one is that third chamber. They really should have included a person in that photo for scale - the ceiling is over 20' high!
$300,000 can get you a very unique geothermal house.
.
.
There's a unique house for sale in Festus, Missouri. The eBay listing is here. The listing ends on March 11 or so (sooner if they get a good offer). If you go look, the photos in the middle of the listing may not show up - but there's more near the end.
The house is built into a cave. (Well, they call it a cave. Actually it's an old mine.) 17,000 square feet, spread over three chambers. The living area is in the front chamber. The second chamber is 40'x40', and makes a good party/game area. The third, or back chamber, is huge, and contains a stage where, back in the '70s and '80s or something, some well-known music groups performed. In the photos, the green-tinted tunnel-looking one is that third chamber. They really should have included a person in that photo for scale - the ceiling is over 20' high!
$300,000 can get you a very unique geothermal house.
.
.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
2285 Making pictures
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Some people have photos of themselves in their blogs. Others don't. I find that after I've been following a blog a while, if there's no photo, I make up a picture in my mind of what they, their significant other, and other cast members look like.
My mind works in strange ways.
I've been visiting the blog of a woman who is now in the midst of an acrimonious divorce. I decided the soon-to-be-ex husband was tall, with dark hair and a lot of beard stubble.
Today I found a photo of him.
He's rather short and dumpy, pale, with thin curly red-blond hair and a red complexion. My immediate thought was , "Well. No wonder."
Then I realized that was a strange thought, so I thought about the thought.
I have never found blond or red-headed men attractive. I don't trust a pale man. It's worse if their hair is curly. The curlier their hair, the less attractive I find them. In fact, if their hair is very curly, I will dislike them at first sight. This is a prejudice I can't seem to get past. It makes no sense. It's not a minor preference, either. It's visceral. Maybe it's something that happened when I was very young, or in a past life or something.
It's interesting that if their hair goes gray when they get older, then they become ok, trustworthy.
My preference has always been men with dark hair, and especially if they have dark eyes. Ex#1 had curly black coffee hair and brown eyes. Jay had soft fine hair the color of a glass of soda, and his eyes were so dark you couldn't see the pupils. Both of them I lusted after at first sight.
Ex#2 was blond, with green-blue eyes. I had met and married him at a time in my life when I was "off sex", and it pleased me that he seemed to have no interest in sex either. You know, when I think back on it, I'm not sure I ever really liked him at all. I think I married him because I was sure he'd never hit me.
All the guys I've ever been good friends with, or had a heavy crush on, have been dark haired and dark eyed. (And very intelligent.)
I guess The Man is the epitome of the dark man. His eyes aren't as dark as Jay's were, and he shaves his head (but he's still dark on top). But the sight of his face thrills me. The contrast of his arm against mine makes me melt.
I wonder why I have such an intense reaction to coloring.
(Point of reference - My father had straight blond hair. He was about 5'5", powerfully built, with very fair skin that never tanned and pale winter-sky blue German eyes. My mother, 4'9", had very dark fluffy hair, and huge round dark brown Welsh eyes. If I'm looking for anything, it wouldn't be my father, but my mother. That would be a neat explanation, but it doesn't have the "feel" of truth.)
.
Some people have photos of themselves in their blogs. Others don't. I find that after I've been following a blog a while, if there's no photo, I make up a picture in my mind of what they, their significant other, and other cast members look like.
My mind works in strange ways.
I've been visiting the blog of a woman who is now in the midst of an acrimonious divorce. I decided the soon-to-be-ex husband was tall, with dark hair and a lot of beard stubble.
Today I found a photo of him.
He's rather short and dumpy, pale, with thin curly red-blond hair and a red complexion. My immediate thought was , "Well. No wonder."
Then I realized that was a strange thought, so I thought about the thought.
I have never found blond or red-headed men attractive. I don't trust a pale man. It's worse if their hair is curly. The curlier their hair, the less attractive I find them. In fact, if their hair is very curly, I will dislike them at first sight. This is a prejudice I can't seem to get past. It makes no sense. It's not a minor preference, either. It's visceral. Maybe it's something that happened when I was very young, or in a past life or something.
It's interesting that if their hair goes gray when they get older, then they become ok, trustworthy.
My preference has always been men with dark hair, and especially if they have dark eyes. Ex#1 had curly black coffee hair and brown eyes. Jay had soft fine hair the color of a glass of soda, and his eyes were so dark you couldn't see the pupils. Both of them I lusted after at first sight.
Ex#2 was blond, with green-blue eyes. I had met and married him at a time in my life when I was "off sex", and it pleased me that he seemed to have no interest in sex either. You know, when I think back on it, I'm not sure I ever really liked him at all. I think I married him because I was sure he'd never hit me.
All the guys I've ever been good friends with, or had a heavy crush on, have been dark haired and dark eyed. (And very intelligent.)
I guess The Man is the epitome of the dark man. His eyes aren't as dark as Jay's were, and he shaves his head (but he's still dark on top). But the sight of his face thrills me. The contrast of his arm against mine makes me melt.
I wonder why I have such an intense reaction to coloring.
(Point of reference - My father had straight blond hair. He was about 5'5", powerfully built, with very fair skin that never tanned and pale winter-sky blue German eyes. My mother, 4'9", had very dark fluffy hair, and huge round dark brown Welsh eyes. If I'm looking for anything, it wouldn't be my father, but my mother. That would be a neat explanation, but it doesn't have the "feel" of truth.)
.
2284 Twenty-five Hubble Photos
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
More Boston photos. This time it's 25 photos from the Hubble space telescope.
http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/12/hubble_space_telescope_advent.html?status=complete
.
More Boston photos. This time it's 25 photos from the Hubble space telescope.
http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/12/hubble_space_telescope_advent.html?status=complete
.
2283 Amazing Photographs - 1
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
At http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/
12/the_year_2008_in_photographs_p.html you'll find the Boston Globe's news of 2008 in photographs, part 1 of 3.
All of the photos are beautiful, even the ugly ones. Well worth a visit.
(I had been unaware of many of the news items.)
.
At http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/
12/the_year_2008_in_photographs_p.html you'll find the Boston Globe's news of 2008 in photographs, part 1 of 3.
All of the photos are beautiful, even the ugly ones. Well worth a visit.
(I had been unaware of many of the news items.)
.
Monday, February 23, 2009
2282 An odd search hit
Monday, February 23, 2009
I was looking at my Sitemeter page and noticed that I had a visitor from Dubai. I figured that someone had found my recent post on economic conditions in Dubai.
Nope.
I had heard that Egypt and the Arab states held the highest rate in the world for porn-searches. Whoever this searcher was, his persistence was remarkable. He was searching for "boob touching photos", and found my mammogram post - on page 59(yeowch!!!) of his search results. That was a lot of sifting.
I hope I didn't disappoint him.
.
I was looking at my Sitemeter page and noticed that I had a visitor from Dubai. I figured that someone had found my recent post on economic conditions in Dubai.
Nope.
I had heard that Egypt and the Arab states held the highest rate in the world for porn-searches. Whoever this searcher was, his persistence was remarkable. He was searching for "boob touching photos", and found my mammogram post - on page 59(yeowch!!!) of his search results. That was a lot of sifting.
I hope I didn't disappoint him.
.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
2281 Movin' on out?
Sunday, February 22, 2009
I started out on AOL Journals. When AOL decided to put advertising on people's "private" journals three years ago, a lot of people fled to different hosts for their blogs. The advertising didn't bother me much, but AOL Journals was very difficult to use, and many people who moved raved about other platforms, so I decided to check Blogger out. And I liked it. And I moved here, where I have been satisfied.
Back during the AOL advertising revolt mass migrations, some bloggers set up cross references for everyone who had moved, change of address files, so you could look up where your favorite AOL journals (now blogs) went.
This past December (I think - sometime toward the end of last year, anyway) AOL shut down AOL Journals entirely. People had like two months to move. AOL did provide a tool to transfer old journal posts to a new host, late, of course, being AOL, but it did work, and I used it to transfer my earliest entries, still on AOL Journals, to Blogger. They now exist as "Moraine", at http://thunderplaypen.blogspot.com/, and include entries from late June, 2004, to mid-November, 2005.
Unlike the earlier exodus, it doesn't seem like anyone set up a directory. I don't know where a lot of people went.
In most cases, something happened that showed a definite lack of forethought and planning. And downright stupidity.
Let's say the last gasp of AOL journals was midnight, December 20. Almost everyone who provided a forwarding address put it in their December 19 or 20 entry! Poof. Gone. If you didn't catch it, too bad.
Consequently, journalers who were used to having a few hundred readers a day, and 50 comments an entry, found themselves alone on a deserted island. Only a few of the faithful were able to find them.
And what's really jerking my chain now is that one by one they are giving up and shutting down their blogs. Because they feel abandoned? Because they miss the adulation? (It was a general rule on AOL that you left only happy, smiley, complimentary comments, because your AOL email id was on your comment, and if you got snarky at all, people could find your mailbox, and stuff it with vindictive. Apparently you had to say nothing argumentative in comments, but it was ok to send death threats in email. I never quite understood that.)
Anyway, I'm getting tired of people complaining that nobody reads them any more.
"Wah wah. I'm so unloved, so discouraged."
"I'm gonna quit. Right now. This is my last entry."
"Well, now! Ok, now."
"Pretty soon now...."
It's like they're begging for evidence they are loved. I wonder if it has ever occurred to them that it's their own fault, having not left a forwarding address.
Whatever. I guess it's all in one's purpose for blogging. I have maybe 20 folks who drop in from time to time, the cast of characters rotates, they come and go. Only a few leave comments, but that's ok. I think fewer than one in 5 readers of personal blogs, and one in 50 on professional blogs, ever comment. I don't need or want adulation. This blog is for me, not readers. I don't have many people-contacts during an average week, and being able to complain here means that when I do see live people, I can be all sweetness and light.
I don't know what other people's purposes are, but apparently getting recognition is one. Hey, if you wanted to keep your readership, you should have told everyone where you moved to. If you want to build a readership, advertise - leave intriguing comments on a lot of other blogs. Don't just sit there and whine.
My attitude is "Well, if you're quitting, ok. Bye. I'll miss you for a while." But I don't say it. Some of them have some interesting and thought-provoking posts, and that's why I read them. But I rarely comment, usually because I have nothing to add, and I find it difficult (and time-consuming, considering I follow close to 90 blogs and feeds at this point) to leave empty say-nothing comments.
-------------------------
The plumber just left. The pressure tank is fine. The pump is working, but it's just dribbling. I need a new pump. The history seems to be that the pump has to be replaced every 12 years. The house is about 25 years old, and this will be the third pump. The second one went in in 1996-ish. He's going to come back and pull the pump on Friday. It's going to cost $2,400, half parts and half labor. I gave him a check for $1,200.
Just doing my part to boost the economy. You're welcome.
.
I started out on AOL Journals. When AOL decided to put advertising on people's "private" journals three years ago, a lot of people fled to different hosts for their blogs. The advertising didn't bother me much, but AOL Journals was very difficult to use, and many people who moved raved about other platforms, so I decided to check Blogger out. And I liked it. And I moved here, where I have been satisfied.
Back during the AOL advertising revolt mass migrations, some bloggers set up cross references for everyone who had moved, change of address files, so you could look up where your favorite AOL journals (now blogs) went.
This past December (I think - sometime toward the end of last year, anyway) AOL shut down AOL Journals entirely. People had like two months to move. AOL did provide a tool to transfer old journal posts to a new host, late, of course, being AOL, but it did work, and I used it to transfer my earliest entries, still on AOL Journals, to Blogger. They now exist as "Moraine", at http://thunderplaypen.blogspot.com/, and include entries from late June, 2004, to mid-November, 2005.
Unlike the earlier exodus, it doesn't seem like anyone set up a directory. I don't know where a lot of people went.
In most cases, something happened that showed a definite lack of forethought and planning. And downright stupidity.
Let's say the last gasp of AOL journals was midnight, December 20. Almost everyone who provided a forwarding address put it in their December 19 or 20 entry! Poof. Gone. If you didn't catch it, too bad.
Consequently, journalers who were used to having a few hundred readers a day, and 50 comments an entry, found themselves alone on a deserted island. Only a few of the faithful were able to find them.
And what's really jerking my chain now is that one by one they are giving up and shutting down their blogs. Because they feel abandoned? Because they miss the adulation? (It was a general rule on AOL that you left only happy, smiley, complimentary comments, because your AOL email id was on your comment, and if you got snarky at all, people could find your mailbox, and stuff it with vindictive. Apparently you had to say nothing argumentative in comments, but it was ok to send death threats in email. I never quite understood that.)
Anyway, I'm getting tired of people complaining that nobody reads them any more.
"Wah wah. I'm so unloved, so discouraged."
"I'm gonna quit. Right now. This is my last entry."
"Well, now! Ok, now."
"Pretty soon now...."
It's like they're begging for evidence they are loved. I wonder if it has ever occurred to them that it's their own fault, having not left a forwarding address.
Whatever. I guess it's all in one's purpose for blogging. I have maybe 20 folks who drop in from time to time, the cast of characters rotates, they come and go. Only a few leave comments, but that's ok. I think fewer than one in 5 readers of personal blogs, and one in 50 on professional blogs, ever comment. I don't need or want adulation. This blog is for me, not readers. I don't have many people-contacts during an average week, and being able to complain here means that when I do see live people, I can be all sweetness and light.
I don't know what other people's purposes are, but apparently getting recognition is one. Hey, if you wanted to keep your readership, you should have told everyone where you moved to. If you want to build a readership, advertise - leave intriguing comments on a lot of other blogs. Don't just sit there and whine.
My attitude is "Well, if you're quitting, ok. Bye. I'll miss you for a while." But I don't say it. Some of them have some interesting and thought-provoking posts, and that's why I read them. But I rarely comment, usually because I have nothing to add, and I find it difficult (and time-consuming, considering I follow close to 90 blogs and feeds at this point) to leave empty say-nothing comments.
-------------------------
The plumber just left. The pressure tank is fine. The pump is working, but it's just dribbling. I need a new pump. The history seems to be that the pump has to be replaced every 12 years. The house is about 25 years old, and this will be the third pump. The second one went in in 1996-ish. He's going to come back and pull the pump on Friday. It's going to cost $2,400, half parts and half labor. I gave him a check for $1,200.
Just doing my part to boost the economy. You're welcome.
.
2280 Movies on YouTube
Sunday, February 22, 2009
YouTube.com now has full length movies. Free. I've wasted a good portion of today watching Alan Arkin in the 1968 role of Inspector Clouseau, at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njuxnadQhC8.
.
YouTube.com now has full length movies. Free. I've wasted a good portion of today watching Alan Arkin in the 1968 role of Inspector Clouseau, at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njuxnadQhC8.
.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
2279 Water
Saturday, February 21, 2009
I still have no water. I suspect whatever's wrong won't be cheap, so I didn't want to call just any plumber in the yellow pages. I've spent the past week trying to get a recommendation from someone, anyone.
I was in a fairly new gourmet deli in the village this afternoon, and they had a scrapbook on the counter detailing their gutting and rebuilding process. I thought, "Hey, I'll bet they used a plumber!" So I asked. Turns out their plumber was the brother-in-law of one of the partners, and she recognized me as a friend of Piper, whom they know well - so now I have a plumber. He's coming tomorrow to take a look.
Jay always liked the guys that put in the well, but I couldn't remember who that was.
The desk I'm sitting at right now is an oak manager's desk, purchased used from The Company at a warehouse sale . The wide, shallow, center drawer has a trough in the front where I have pens, pencils, paper clips, and so on. I sit here with the drawer slightly open, to rest my elbows on the top edge as I type, so that trough is always visible, and I get a pen or pencil out several times a day.
Now, the weird part. The part that makes me think I may be losing it.
This evening I happened to glance down, and in the left end of that trough, clearly visible, covered by nothing, info side up, is the business card for the well company. It's been there for 20 years.
.
I still have no water. I suspect whatever's wrong won't be cheap, so I didn't want to call just any plumber in the yellow pages. I've spent the past week trying to get a recommendation from someone, anyone.
I was in a fairly new gourmet deli in the village this afternoon, and they had a scrapbook on the counter detailing their gutting and rebuilding process. I thought, "Hey, I'll bet they used a plumber!" So I asked. Turns out their plumber was the brother-in-law of one of the partners, and she recognized me as a friend of Piper, whom they know well - so now I have a plumber. He's coming tomorrow to take a look.
Jay always liked the guys that put in the well, but I couldn't remember who that was.
The desk I'm sitting at right now is an oak manager's desk, purchased used from The Company at a warehouse sale . The wide, shallow, center drawer has a trough in the front where I have pens, pencils, paper clips, and so on. I sit here with the drawer slightly open, to rest my elbows on the top edge as I type, so that trough is always visible, and I get a pen or pencil out several times a day.
Now, the weird part. The part that makes me think I may be losing it.
This evening I happened to glance down, and in the left end of that trough, clearly visible, covered by nothing, info side up, is the business card for the well company. It's been there for 20 years.
.
2278 Tax Clinic 2
Saturday, February 21, 2009
I volunteered at the tax clinic again today. Donuts and coffee provided in the morning, and big sandwiches at lunch. Sixteen low wage workers got their taxes done for free. (Twenty-seven last weekend. They're expecting a huge crowd next weekend.)
The people are to fill out a general information form first, before they see the preparer. One young man was there with his girlfriend and a baby. He came up to me with the form and asked "It says occupation here. I'm not sure what to put down." I asked what he did. He had three jobs, one at Burger King, one at McDonald's, and one at Dunkin Donuts. I told him to write "food service", and his expression was like I'd just promoted him. Then he asked what the line about child care meant, and I said that's if you pay for child care or babysitter so you can go to work. He said "No. My girlfriend stays at home."
My head spun.
I found out that if RSVP asks you to volunteer for more than 4 hours at a clip, they have to feed you. Sheesh. In all those long days I put in at the Maritime Museum, nobody once offered me anything. I even had to pay for bottled water from the gift shop.
I don't miss the museum at all, and not just because of the lack of feeding. They really did expect too much of the volunteers. We were expected to do things a paid employee should have been doing.
.
I volunteered at the tax clinic again today. Donuts and coffee provided in the morning, and big sandwiches at lunch. Sixteen low wage workers got their taxes done for free. (Twenty-seven last weekend. They're expecting a huge crowd next weekend.)
The people are to fill out a general information form first, before they see the preparer. One young man was there with his girlfriend and a baby. He came up to me with the form and asked "It says occupation here. I'm not sure what to put down." I asked what he did. He had three jobs, one at Burger King, one at McDonald's, and one at Dunkin Donuts. I told him to write "food service", and his expression was like I'd just promoted him. Then he asked what the line about child care meant, and I said that's if you pay for child care or babysitter so you can go to work. He said "No. My girlfriend stays at home."
My head spun.
I found out that if RSVP asks you to volunteer for more than 4 hours at a clip, they have to feed you. Sheesh. In all those long days I put in at the Maritime Museum, nobody once offered me anything. I even had to pay for bottled water from the gift shop.
I don't miss the museum at all, and not just because of the lack of feeding. They really did expect too much of the volunteers. We were expected to do things a paid employee should have been doing.
.
Friday, February 20, 2009
2277 Repeat - On adversarial Law
Friday, February 20, 2009
I found this old entry from December of 2005. I like it. I decided to repeat it.
That isn't allowed in the US.
I've known a lot of lawyers, and I've found that when you find one who likes to go to court, who looks forward to the fray, he or she is usually less interested in truth and justice, and more interested in simply winning. Regardless of what's right.
I used to laugh at The Company lawyers. When they smelled conflict, you could almost hear the swords rattling against the shields. And once they mounted up, they weren't going to let anything like compromise or offers or new information deter them from battle, from that taste of blood and victory.
In France, according to Jay and his father at least, the object of the courts is to find the truth. Cases are presided over by a panel of judges, who direct the research and investigation, and choose, summon, and question the witnesses. They want the whole truth, not someone's filtered and slanted version of it, and they keep probing until they are satisfied they've got it. Contrast this with American courts, where the object often seems to be to prevent the whole truth from coming out, to pit one attorney's skill at obfuscation and blocking against another's, winner take all.
This means that in the US, the outcome of family, civil, and criminal cases is often determined not by the truth and law, but by whose lawyer could dance faster. Which actually translates to who had the most money. Which explains a lot about the demographics of the prisons.
If I were innocent, I'd want a French court. If I were guilty, I'd want an American court and a rich uncle. That doesn't sound nice at all.
.
I found this old entry from December of 2005. I like it. I decided to repeat it.
#498 Adversarial Law
Neighbor Nan and I got to talking about mediated divorces yesterday. I complained that as soon as you get two lawyers involved, if things weren't nasty before, they get nasty real quick, because the lawyers aren't really fighting for their clients, they're just fighting to score against each other. Nan said that in Austria, a divorce is handled by one lawyer, who advises both parties on what is equitable, fair, and legal.That isn't allowed in the US.
I've known a lot of lawyers, and I've found that when you find one who likes to go to court, who looks forward to the fray, he or she is usually less interested in truth and justice, and more interested in simply winning. Regardless of what's right.
I used to laugh at The Company lawyers. When they smelled conflict, you could almost hear the swords rattling against the shields. And once they mounted up, they weren't going to let anything like compromise or offers or new information deter them from battle, from that taste of blood and victory.
In France, according to Jay and his father at least, the object of the courts is to find the truth. Cases are presided over by a panel of judges, who direct the research and investigation, and choose, summon, and question the witnesses. They want the whole truth, not someone's filtered and slanted version of it, and they keep probing until they are satisfied they've got it. Contrast this with American courts, where the object often seems to be to prevent the whole truth from coming out, to pit one attorney's skill at obfuscation and blocking against another's, winner take all.
This means that in the US, the outcome of family, civil, and criminal cases is often determined not by the truth and law, but by whose lawyer could dance faster. Which actually translates to who had the most money. Which explains a lot about the demographics of the prisons.
If I were innocent, I'd want a French court. If I were guilty, I'd want an American court and a rich uncle. That doesn't sound nice at all.
.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
2276 - I just don't get it.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
When the current governor of New York took office, he noted that the real estate situation in the Albany area was terrible, not so much foreclosures as that nothing was selling. Nobody was buying houses. Nobody could sell a house. He said somebody should do something about that. So he fired 3,000+ state government workers.
I don't understand. Good luck with that relocation, folks.
Meanwhile, in Saratoga, Marylou Whitney has canceled her annual ball celebrating the opening of the racing season. The ball is huge, themed, enormously extravagant. Costumed invited guests are inside, but outside, the masses, anybody who shows up, are also fed and entertained. It's the biggest thing in Saratoga, I guess. She can afford it.
She and her husband have decided that the ball is "inappropriate" in this economy.
Inappropriate? What about the local businesses that depend on the ball to make their nut every year? How many jobs will this move cost?
In this economy, spending, if you have the money, is the most appropriate thing to do! Keeping money out of circulation is the absolute worst thing.
I don't understand.
.
When the current governor of New York took office, he noted that the real estate situation in the Albany area was terrible, not so much foreclosures as that nothing was selling. Nobody was buying houses. Nobody could sell a house. He said somebody should do something about that. So he fired 3,000+ state government workers.
I don't understand. Good luck with that relocation, folks.
Meanwhile, in Saratoga, Marylou Whitney has canceled her annual ball celebrating the opening of the racing season. The ball is huge, themed, enormously extravagant. Costumed invited guests are inside, but outside, the masses, anybody who shows up, are also fed and entertained. It's the biggest thing in Saratoga, I guess. She can afford it.
She and her husband have decided that the ball is "inappropriate" in this economy.
Inappropriate? What about the local businesses that depend on the ball to make their nut every year? How many jobs will this move cost?
In this economy, spending, if you have the money, is the most appropriate thing to do! Keeping money out of circulation is the absolute worst thing.
I don't understand.
.
2275 Blah Faceb00k
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Well, another blogger has decamped, moved to Faceb00k, "Come visit me there!" Well, you can't do much with Faceb00k unless you register with them. And they insist on real names. Sure, I could make up a name, but that isn't the whole problem.
First problem is that Faceb00k tracks your internet activity, especially shopping. I don't want that.
Second problem is that (and most people don't realize this) Faceb00k OWNS everything you store with them. Your writings. Your photos. They can use anything in any way they wish. Once you put something on Faceb00k, it's no longer yours, you have no say in its use, and they can even alter it any way they want. You could put a photo out that you are proud of and want to share with friends, and a month later find that it has been sold for use in a condom commercial. You have shared the copyright with them.
Yeah. Read the terms of use. They recently expanded them. (I'm willing to bet nobody told the users.)
I was on Faceb00k for all of maybe 36 hours when I realized how dangerous it was. I tried to delete my profile and the few photos I'd put out there, and surprise - they'll "unregister" you, but they don't delete your material.
Don't believe me?
Set up a dummy account, store some stuff, wait a few days, and then request that the account and profile and all materials be deleted. Wait another few days, and reregister. Surprise. Your stuff, that they claim had been deleted, is still there.
Why not? It's theirs now. They just let you look at it.
---------------------
Later: This guy says it well. Also, it's interesting that the TOS were changed to allow them to keep your material about two weeks ago. The previous TOS, which they have gone back to, didn't say they'd keep stuff. And yet - it was about six weeks ago that I had my run-in with Faceb00k, and they kept my material then! (I wrote a very nasty email to them, threatening legal action.) So just because they withdrew the statement that they are keeping your stuff DOESN'T mean they're not keeping your stuff. They're just not saying so.
.
Well, another blogger has decamped, moved to Faceb00k, "Come visit me there!" Well, you can't do much with Faceb00k unless you register with them. And they insist on real names. Sure, I could make up a name, but that isn't the whole problem.
First problem is that Faceb00k tracks your internet activity, especially shopping. I don't want that.
Second problem is that (and most people don't realize this) Faceb00k OWNS everything you store with them. Your writings. Your photos. They can use anything in any way they wish. Once you put something on Faceb00k, it's no longer yours, you have no say in its use, and they can even alter it any way they want. You could put a photo out that you are proud of and want to share with friends, and a month later find that it has been sold for use in a condom commercial. You have shared the copyright with them.
Yeah. Read the terms of use. They recently expanded them. (I'm willing to bet nobody told the users.)
I was on Faceb00k for all of maybe 36 hours when I realized how dangerous it was. I tried to delete my profile and the few photos I'd put out there, and surprise - they'll "unregister" you, but they don't delete your material.
Don't believe me?
Set up a dummy account, store some stuff, wait a few days, and then request that the account and profile and all materials be deleted. Wait another few days, and reregister. Surprise. Your stuff, that they claim had been deleted, is still there.
Why not? It's theirs now. They just let you look at it.
---------------------
Later: This guy says it well. Also, it's interesting that the TOS were changed to allow them to keep your material about two weeks ago. The previous TOS, which they have gone back to, didn't say they'd keep stuff. And yet - it was about six weeks ago that I had my run-in with Faceb00k, and they kept my material then! (I wrote a very nasty email to them, threatening legal action.) So just because they withdrew the statement that they are keeping your stuff DOESN'T mean they're not keeping your stuff. They're just not saying so.
.
2274 If you find it racist....
Thursday, February 19, 2009
...what does that mean?
All the morning talk shows today are upset at yesterday's New York Post cartoon. You can find it here. Everyone finds it racist. And violent.
Ok, I'll grant the violent. But it took me several minutes to wonder if it was racist.
My first thought was, "That would have been funnier if they'd printed it during the Bush administration."
My second thought was, "Are they saying the bill was written by chimps?" - a thought I've had myself. (Not monkeys, by the way. A chimpanzee is an ape, not a monkey. And humans are also primates. Let's get the terms right.)
It wasn't until after I'd heard the arguments about the cartoon being racist that I wondered if they were equating President Obama to a chimpanzee, and then I had to wonder why it was ok to equate Bush to a chimp, but not Obama.
So, am I insensitive to racial issues? Whoopie says that people who are racist are insensitive to racial slurs, don't even realize when they make them. Does being insensitive make me racist? I don't think I am.
In fact, by thinking that it's ok to equate Bush to a chimp, but not Obama, you divide the two solely on the issue of race. Isn't that in a way racist? To differentiate solely on the basis of skin color? To treat people differently based solely on the depth of their tans?
OK, I guess you do have to be sensitive to a person's history. You don't make Nazi jokes to people with numbers tattooed on their arms. But the whole issue is tangled in my mind.
Feminists went through this. Women want to be considered strong, capable, intelligent, and as worthy as men. We don't want to be treated differently just because we're female. But we do like it when men open doors and carry things for us. When The Man opens the car door for me AND adjusts the seat AND pulls the seat belt out and passes it over to my left hand, is he being a chauvinist pig, treating me like a child? (Yes, he really does do all that. He even guides me around with a hand on the small of my back.) I think we woman resolved it simply. OUR chosen man can ACT like we're small and delicate and need to be taken care of - but only in ways we define, and only with our permission. Another man better not try it, or we'd have to kill him.
Maybe that's how things that look racist work. It's allowed only with permission, and otherwise you have to be sensitive. But a man who treats a woman the same way he'd treat another man, not even considering her sex, is not being insensitive, and he's not being chauvinistic - in fact, that's what we'd want. So howcome we have to be so sensitive to race? Wouldn't the goal be to treat all the same with no consideration to color? Isn't that the goal?
So if it's ok to compare Bush to a chimp, isn't the goal to be able someday to compare Obama to a chimp? Is my being "racially insensitive" an indication of latent racism, or a sign that I'm more advanced than most?
It's very tangled. We have to feel our way. Someday I'll have to ask The Man if I've ever inadvertently offended him by saying or doing something I would have said or done to any other man.
I mean, like, is it bad if I forget he's Black?
So, back to the question. If you do or don't find the cartoon racist, what does that mean?
.
...what does that mean?
All the morning talk shows today are upset at yesterday's New York Post cartoon. You can find it here. Everyone finds it racist. And violent.
Ok, I'll grant the violent. But it took me several minutes to wonder if it was racist.
My first thought was, "That would have been funnier if they'd printed it during the Bush administration."
My second thought was, "Are they saying the bill was written by chimps?" - a thought I've had myself. (Not monkeys, by the way. A chimpanzee is an ape, not a monkey. And humans are also primates. Let's get the terms right.)
It wasn't until after I'd heard the arguments about the cartoon being racist that I wondered if they were equating President Obama to a chimpanzee, and then I had to wonder why it was ok to equate Bush to a chimp, but not Obama.
So, am I insensitive to racial issues? Whoopie says that people who are racist are insensitive to racial slurs, don't even realize when they make them. Does being insensitive make me racist? I don't think I am.
In fact, by thinking that it's ok to equate Bush to a chimp, but not Obama, you divide the two solely on the issue of race. Isn't that in a way racist? To differentiate solely on the basis of skin color? To treat people differently based solely on the depth of their tans?
OK, I guess you do have to be sensitive to a person's history. You don't make Nazi jokes to people with numbers tattooed on their arms. But the whole issue is tangled in my mind.
Feminists went through this. Women want to be considered strong, capable, intelligent, and as worthy as men. We don't want to be treated differently just because we're female. But we do like it when men open doors and carry things for us. When The Man opens the car door for me AND adjusts the seat AND pulls the seat belt out and passes it over to my left hand, is he being a chauvinist pig, treating me like a child? (Yes, he really does do all that. He even guides me around with a hand on the small of my back.) I think we woman resolved it simply. OUR chosen man can ACT like we're small and delicate and need to be taken care of - but only in ways we define, and only with our permission. Another man better not try it, or we'd have to kill him.
Maybe that's how things that look racist work. It's allowed only with permission, and otherwise you have to be sensitive. But a man who treats a woman the same way he'd treat another man, not even considering her sex, is not being insensitive, and he's not being chauvinistic - in fact, that's what we'd want. So howcome we have to be so sensitive to race? Wouldn't the goal be to treat all the same with no consideration to color? Isn't that the goal?
So if it's ok to compare Bush to a chimp, isn't the goal to be able someday to compare Obama to a chimp? Is my being "racially insensitive" an indication of latent racism, or a sign that I'm more advanced than most?
It's very tangled. We have to feel our way. Someday I'll have to ask The Man if I've ever inadvertently offended him by saying or doing something I would have said or done to any other man.
I mean, like, is it bad if I forget he's Black?
So, back to the question. If you do or don't find the cartoon racist, what does that mean?
.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
2273 Legal Bits
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Ok all you folks with the Swiss bank accounts - get ready for a visit from the IRS. (New York Times article here.)
-----------------------
"A Florida jury has awarded $8 million in damages to a widow of a longtime smoker who died of lung cancer, The Associated Press reports." The finding is that the company hid the dangers from smokers.
The man was two years older than I, so he must have had pretty much the same knowledge as I. And when I was in high school and college, we called cigarettes "coffin nails". Oh, come on! Everybody knew! Nobody can claim they didn't know! In my opinion, smokers know, and they make their decision. And to claim the companies hid the information is bullshit.** We knew. Everyone did.
Enormous awards are simply punishment, vindictiveness, and since this case opens the door to thousands of similar cases, it's a blatant attempt to put them out of business.
No matter what you personally think of cigarettes, this is a perversion of the justice system, and I don't like it. Like, maybe one day we'll decide we don't like people with blue eyes, and juries will convict blue-eyed people just because their eyes are blue. (Oops, sorry. Bad example. We already do that with skin.)
**That is not a word I often use. In this case, it fits.
-------------------------------
Where is Geronimo? Descendants of the Apache chief Geronimo have sued Yale University and Skull and Bones, asking for the release of Geronimo’s remains. The descendants believe that in 1918, members of Skull and Bones, including Prescott Bush, the father of George H.W Bush and grandfather of George W. Bush, dug up Geronimo’s grave at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma, and stole his skull, some bones and other items buried with him." (Story here.)
---------------------------------
Seventeen Chinese Turkic Muslims cleared for release from Guantanamo Bay are still there, in limbo for the past seven years, never having been charged with anything, AND they are not considered enemy combatants, not considered terrorists. Story here.
The men are from Xinjiang, and are part of a military/political group agitating against repression by China. They are afraid to return to the Chinese-controlled territory because they fear torture. China has warned other countries not to accept them. So there they sit.
What I can't figure out is how they ended up in Gitmo in the first place. Another Bush/Cheney mess Obama has to untangle?
.
Ok all you folks with the Swiss bank accounts - get ready for a visit from the IRS. (New York Times article here.)
-----------------------
"A Florida jury has awarded $8 million in damages to a widow of a longtime smoker who died of lung cancer, The Associated Press reports." The finding is that the company hid the dangers from smokers.
The man was two years older than I, so he must have had pretty much the same knowledge as I. And when I was in high school and college, we called cigarettes "coffin nails". Oh, come on! Everybody knew! Nobody can claim they didn't know! In my opinion, smokers know, and they make their decision. And to claim the companies hid the information is bullshit.** We knew. Everyone did.
Enormous awards are simply punishment, vindictiveness, and since this case opens the door to thousands of similar cases, it's a blatant attempt to put them out of business.
No matter what you personally think of cigarettes, this is a perversion of the justice system, and I don't like it. Like, maybe one day we'll decide we don't like people with blue eyes, and juries will convict blue-eyed people just because their eyes are blue. (Oops, sorry. Bad example. We already do that with skin.)
**That is not a word I often use. In this case, it fits.
-------------------------------
Where is Geronimo? Descendants of the Apache chief Geronimo have sued Yale University and Skull and Bones, asking for the release of Geronimo’s remains. The descendants believe that in 1918, members of Skull and Bones, including Prescott Bush, the father of George H.W Bush and grandfather of George W. Bush, dug up Geronimo’s grave at Ft. Sill, Oklahoma, and stole his skull, some bones and other items buried with him." (Story here.)
---------------------------------
Seventeen Chinese Turkic Muslims cleared for release from Guantanamo Bay are still there, in limbo for the past seven years, never having been charged with anything, AND they are not considered enemy combatants, not considered terrorists. Story here.
The men are from Xinjiang, and are part of a military/political group agitating against repression by China. They are afraid to return to the Chinese-controlled territory because they fear torture. China has warned other countries not to accept them. So there they sit.
What I can't figure out is how they ended up in Gitmo in the first place. Another Bush/Cheney mess Obama has to untangle?
.
2272 Bits and Pieces
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
On NPR today, a lot of people were asked to define love. There were all kinds of complicated, fanciful, and flowery definitions, most of which seemed to fit a particular situation, and most of which seemed a bit smothering to me.
I like my definition best (of course): "Love is when you want for someone whatever makes them happy, even if it doesn't happen to include you."
---------------------------
Evidence of the spread of the financial crisis - Dubai. Wealthy city. Very expensive. Disneyland, Las Vegas, and New York city all rolled into one, party center of the world (even though sin is against the law). Dubai has attracted speculators from all over Asia and the middle east. And now it's crashing.
In the US, when you can't pay for the house or the car, you can hand the keys to the bank or dealership and walk away. Not in Dubai. You pay debts, or you go to debtor's prison.
In the past four months, the police have found more than 3,000 cars abandoned at and near the airport, with the keys in them. Surprise. People are quietly sneaking onto planes, getting out.
------------------
I knew that the US real estate market was ridiculous, especially in California. Some people still have a distorted opinion of what their property is worth. Look at what $200,000 (down from $250,000) will get you in San Diego:
http://www.redfin.com/CA/San-Diego
/3225-National-Ave-92113/home/5890483/
sandicor-080074949
"Dream"? Do check the link. It has no foundation, is supported on a few widely spaced posts and whatever else they could find. It looks like you'd be buying nothing more than a small narrow trashed lot.
----------------------
Quote from A-Rod: "I laid my bed, now I've got to sit on it."
-----------------------
I have the Maury show on in the morning because it leads into a show I really watch. I am amazed at how those people overreact! No matter what's going on with me, I'd never be accepted for the show by the producers. They don't want someone who will hear some shocking revelation and respond, "Oh. Ok. I guess that settles that." and walk away.
----------------------
Along those same lines, Ben Sherwood, author of The Survivors Club, was on PBS last night. He had some interesting things to say about people who manage to survive disasters, who breeze through crises. He says there's a misconception that most people freak out in an emergency. Actually, he's discovered that in any group of people, there will be 10% who become leaders and do exactly the right things, 80% who obey and follow those leaders, and 10% who flip out and do all the wrong things, endangering everyone else.
He says that
I took the test at the above link. I came up "Realist". I am, in fact, good in a crisis, and I don't easily stress out.
.
On NPR today, a lot of people were asked to define love. There were all kinds of complicated, fanciful, and flowery definitions, most of which seemed to fit a particular situation, and most of which seemed a bit smothering to me.
I like my definition best (of course): "Love is when you want for someone whatever makes them happy, even if it doesn't happen to include you."
---------------------------
Evidence of the spread of the financial crisis - Dubai. Wealthy city. Very expensive. Disneyland, Las Vegas, and New York city all rolled into one, party center of the world (even though sin is against the law). Dubai has attracted speculators from all over Asia and the middle east. And now it's crashing.
In the US, when you can't pay for the house or the car, you can hand the keys to the bank or dealership and walk away. Not in Dubai. You pay debts, or you go to debtor's prison.
In the past four months, the police have found more than 3,000 cars abandoned at and near the airport, with the keys in them. Surprise. People are quietly sneaking onto planes, getting out.
------------------
I knew that the US real estate market was ridiculous, especially in California. Some people still have a distorted opinion of what their property is worth. Look at what $200,000 (down from $250,000) will get you in San Diego:
http://www.redfin.com/CA/San-Diego
/3225-National-Ave-92113/home/5890483/
sandicor-080074949
"Major fixer upper. Needs lots of work no bathrooms fixtures, toilets, tiles. No light fixtures, no kitchen cabinets, partial carpets, stucco needs finish. No landscape needs fence contractors. Dream major fixer sold as is. Needs some windows & new doors, may need some roofing & garage door, no exhaust fans present in kitchen or bathrooms & steps need repairs. Fixer Fixer Fixer!"
"Dream"? Do check the link. It has no foundation, is supported on a few widely spaced posts and whatever else they could find. It looks like you'd be buying nothing more than a small narrow trashed lot.
----------------------
Quote from A-Rod: "I laid my bed, now I've got to sit on it."
-----------------------
I have the Maury show on in the morning because it leads into a show I really watch. I am amazed at how those people overreact! No matter what's going on with me, I'd never be accepted for the show by the producers. They don't want someone who will hear some shocking revelation and respond, "Oh. Ok. I guess that settles that." and walk away.
----------------------
Along those same lines, Ben Sherwood, author of The Survivors Club, was on PBS last night. He had some interesting things to say about people who manage to survive disasters, who breeze through crises. He says there's a misconception that most people freak out in an emergency. Actually, he's discovered that in any group of people, there will be 10% who become leaders and do exactly the right things, 80% who obey and follow those leaders, and 10% who flip out and do all the wrong things, endangering everyone else.
He says that
"An international team of scientists has identified a set of genes that seem to protect people from the greatest stresses and strains in life. Researching my book, I actually underwent genetic testing to see if I’ve got the Resilience Gene."I find it interesting that so many people these days get old sayings wrong, even mature journalists. He said that many people, in a crisis, "run around with their heads cut off", which brings up an image quite different from a chicken with its head cut off.... I guess nobody kills their own chickens much these days.
I took the test at the above link. I came up "Realist". I am, in fact, good in a crisis, and I don't easily stress out.
.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
2271 Google hits
I'm getting 4 to 6 hits a day from people searching for "how to get out of jury duty", from many different states, Canada and Europe, and even one hit from Israel. I guess that's the most interesting thing I've had to say in over 2,000 posts (well, most interesting since the abasiophilia people discovered me).
I'm glad I'm wasting their time.
.
I'm glad I'm wasting their time.
.
Monday, February 16, 2009
2270 Why a Surgeon?
Monday, February 16, 2009
I didn't understand why, since the mammogram and the ultrasound were clear, I still had to see a surgeon. So today I stopped in at the GP's office and asked.
It's because we need to rule out Inflammatory breast cancer, which is a very rare but especially nasty variety that doesn't form lumps and doesn't show up on mammograms or ultrasounds. When found, it's automatically stage IIIb or IV.
Ok, so let's go rule it out.
I'd never heard of it before. Follow the link, look up the symptoms, and spread the word.
The only symptom I have is what appeared to be a brief infection in a duct. So either I don't have it, or we're catching it early. The miserable survival rate is because it usually isn't recognized until it's too late.
.
I didn't understand why, since the mammogram and the ultrasound were clear, I still had to see a surgeon. So today I stopped in at the GP's office and asked.
It's because we need to rule out Inflammatory breast cancer, which is a very rare but especially nasty variety that doesn't form lumps and doesn't show up on mammograms or ultrasounds. When found, it's automatically stage IIIb or IV.
Ok, so let's go rule it out.
I'd never heard of it before. Follow the link, look up the symptoms, and spread the word.
The only symptom I have is what appeared to be a brief infection in a duct. So either I don't have it, or we're catching it early. The miserable survival rate is because it usually isn't recognized until it's too late.
.
2269 Excess
Monday, February 16, 2009
The View is on, and they mentioned that Las Vegas is suffering because companies are avoiding the "fiscal stigma" of meetings in Vegas.
I had lunch with Piper last Thursday, and he told me about a NYC investment company that had called him as an advisor to a meeting, in NYC, concerning their losses. They told him that the meeting where the numbers would be presented and decisions made would be in a few weeks, and he said, "Oh, so you'll want me down here again then?" And they said, yes, but not down here, that meeting will be in Hawaii.
All of the people who will be at that meeting are local to NYC.
They really STILL don't get it.
.
The View is on, and they mentioned that Las Vegas is suffering because companies are avoiding the "fiscal stigma" of meetings in Vegas.
I had lunch with Piper last Thursday, and he told me about a NYC investment company that had called him as an advisor to a meeting, in NYC, concerning their losses. They told him that the meeting where the numbers would be presented and decisions made would be in a few weeks, and he said, "Oh, so you'll want me down here again then?" And they said, yes, but not down here, that meeting will be in Hawaii.
All of the people who will be at that meeting are local to NYC.
They really STILL don't get it.
.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
2268 Dressage
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Beautiful. (The tail fascinated me.)
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKQgTiqhPbw]
.
Beautiful. (The tail fascinated me.)
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKQgTiqhPbw]
.
Friday, February 13, 2009
2267 In the Desert
Friday, February 13, 2009
Met with The Man last night, at the halfway point. Dinner, karaoke, TV, etc. He didn't have to be at work until 11 am, so we had a relatively relaxed morning. He left at 9:45ish, which should have been in good time for the drive. I potted around a bit and left at 10:30, and while I was still in the parking lot my phone rang. He was sitting in a traffic jam on the NYS Thruway, no more than 15 minutes away. Overturned SUV ahead. Poor guy. Relaxation was shortlived.
I got home and discovered that I have no water. I think the well pump died, or maybe the pressure tank has blown. The circuit breaker is fine, so it's not a simple fix. I'll have to get a plumber in. Somehow I decided today was Saturday, so I didn't call anyone. Phooey.
I bought a few jugs of water to drink, and to flush, and to heat on the stove for a sponge bath in the shower stall. It works. That's what we do around here when the power is out for a few days. In the past I've even melted snow for washing and for the beasties.
Tomorrow I'll be volunteering at a tax clinic again.
.
Met with The Man last night, at the halfway point. Dinner, karaoke, TV, etc. He didn't have to be at work until 11 am, so we had a relatively relaxed morning. He left at 9:45ish, which should have been in good time for the drive. I potted around a bit and left at 10:30, and while I was still in the parking lot my phone rang. He was sitting in a traffic jam on the NYS Thruway, no more than 15 minutes away. Overturned SUV ahead. Poor guy. Relaxation was shortlived.
I got home and discovered that I have no water. I think the well pump died, or maybe the pressure tank has blown. The circuit breaker is fine, so it's not a simple fix. I'll have to get a plumber in. Somehow I decided today was Saturday, so I didn't call anyone. Phooey.
I bought a few jugs of water to drink, and to flush, and to heat on the stove for a sponge bath in the shower stall. It works. That's what we do around here when the power is out for a few days. In the past I've even melted snow for washing and for the beasties.
Tomorrow I'll be volunteering at a tax clinic again.
.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
2266 Passing the Boob
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I took Miss Thunderfoot to the vet's today for her yearly checkup and immunizations (three months late). She went into the carrier with no problem, objected only a little in the car, and during the 30 minutes in the waiting room she curled up in the carrier and went to sleep.
In the examining room, however, she spat and slapped (without her claws out), and bit (gently, but threateningly), and growled so much the vet couldn't hear her heart. She's usually very calm. When I happened to mention that she hates other cats, especially males, the vet laughed. He said he had four adult male shelter cats in the next room, scheduled for neutering, and she probably smelled them.
Dr. M. was also amused that Thunder was 11 lbs 11 oz on her last visit, which happened to be on 11/11/07, and as of this month, she's 11 years and 11 months old. Lottery anyone?
I was aware that she'd been losing weight. She's now down to 8 lbs 9 oz, but the vet isn't worried because that's actually a healthier weight for her size, and he's attributing it to Jasper's exercising her more. I don't know. I'm going to keep an eye on her weight.
------------------------------
I went to the doctor's office and got copies of all the breast reports. Then I went to the radiologist's and picked up my old films, and film and CD of Friday's Mammogram and ultrasound.
This is beginning to look like a game of "pass the buck".
The radiologist says there's no change from the last mammogram (2002), and no abnormalities are seen. Oddly, they still say my breasts are dense. They don't feel so dense any more.... Then after all the "no problems" comments, it says "Assessment: Incomplete; need additional imaging evaluation. Recommendation: Ultrasound..."
The ultrasound report says "No ultrasound abnormality is seen.... Assessment: Negative.... Recommendation: Surgical consultation of the left breast ... decision to aspirate/biopsy a palpable mass should be based on clinical grounds."
There IS NO PALPABLE MASS! All of this is saying there's nothing wrong! But no one wants to take the responsibility to say "There's nothing wrong." They're just passing me up the line. The surgeon gets the big bucks, so let him say there's nothing wrong. I hope he isn't scared, too, or I'll end up with needle aspiration of a perfectly healthy nipple!
I'm even more certain now that it was just an infection in a duct.
Oh, yeah, the culture results were "Normal saprophytic flora ..." which is also consistent with an infection that the immune system has stomped.
-----------------------------------
I don't know if they did something different this time, or if the technology has improved since 2002, but these scans are so very much clearer. They used to stick a bead on the tip of the nipple, and then on the films, there was a large blank area between the bead and the start of the image. Now there is no bead, and you can actually see the nipple. Amazing. You can even see the skin around the edges.
The bright spots are calcium. Not a problem when they're isolated and scattered. One of them is a star shape (second view down). I don't like that one, just on principal (actually, it's some kind of marker, and it worries me because I don't know why it's there).
If you look where the nipple is in the third one down, there's a shaded part inside that looks almost like the nipple is inverted. I'm going to ask the surgeon about that. What is it, and why doesn't it look like that on the other views? The "chicklets" at the top in that one were exactly the same in the 2002 scans, so whatever they are, they're ok.
If you click on the scans, you'll get a much larger (life sized!) more detailed view.
.
I took Miss Thunderfoot to the vet's today for her yearly checkup and immunizations (three months late). She went into the carrier with no problem, objected only a little in the car, and during the 30 minutes in the waiting room she curled up in the carrier and went to sleep.
In the examining room, however, she spat and slapped (without her claws out), and bit (gently, but threateningly), and growled so much the vet couldn't hear her heart. She's usually very calm. When I happened to mention that she hates other cats, especially males, the vet laughed. He said he had four adult male shelter cats in the next room, scheduled for neutering, and she probably smelled them.
Dr. M. was also amused that Thunder was 11 lbs 11 oz on her last visit, which happened to be on 11/11/07, and as of this month, she's 11 years and 11 months old. Lottery anyone?
I was aware that she'd been losing weight. She's now down to 8 lbs 9 oz, but the vet isn't worried because that's actually a healthier weight for her size, and he's attributing it to Jasper's exercising her more. I don't know. I'm going to keep an eye on her weight.
------------------------------
I went to the doctor's office and got copies of all the breast reports. Then I went to the radiologist's and picked up my old films, and film and CD of Friday's Mammogram and ultrasound.
This is beginning to look like a game of "pass the buck".
The radiologist says there's no change from the last mammogram (2002), and no abnormalities are seen. Oddly, they still say my breasts are dense. They don't feel so dense any more.... Then after all the "no problems" comments, it says "Assessment: Incomplete; need additional imaging evaluation. Recommendation: Ultrasound..."
The ultrasound report says "No ultrasound abnormality is seen.... Assessment: Negative.... Recommendation: Surgical consultation of the left breast ... decision to aspirate/biopsy a palpable mass should be based on clinical grounds."
There IS NO PALPABLE MASS! All of this is saying there's nothing wrong! But no one wants to take the responsibility to say "There's nothing wrong." They're just passing me up the line. The surgeon gets the big bucks, so let him say there's nothing wrong. I hope he isn't scared, too, or I'll end up with needle aspiration of a perfectly healthy nipple!
I'm even more certain now that it was just an infection in a duct.
Oh, yeah, the culture results were "Normal saprophytic flora ..." which is also consistent with an infection that the immune system has stomped.
-----------------------------------
I don't know if they did something different this time, or if the technology has improved since 2002, but these scans are so very much clearer. They used to stick a bead on the tip of the nipple, and then on the films, there was a large blank area between the bead and the start of the image. Now there is no bead, and you can actually see the nipple. Amazing. You can even see the skin around the edges.
The bright spots are calcium. Not a problem when they're isolated and scattered. One of them is a star shape (second view down). I don't like that one, just on principal (actually, it's some kind of marker, and it worries me because I don't know why it's there).
If you look where the nipple is in the third one down, there's a shaded part inside that looks almost like the nipple is inverted. I'm going to ask the surgeon about that. What is it, and why doesn't it look like that on the other views? The "chicklets" at the top in that one were exactly the same in the 2002 scans, so whatever they are, they're ok.
If you click on the scans, you'll get a much larger (life sized!) more detailed view.
.
2264 Breast Mystery
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I called the doctor first thing this morning, and talked to one of the women at the desk. She said the mammo results were back, and it was "within normal limits". She didn't say anything about the ultrasound, or the discharge culture/microexam, but I'll be picking up the reports and the CD later today, so I'll read it myself then.
However,
Nurse: Dr. D. wants you to see Dr. W.
Me: Dr. W? Who's Dr. W?
Nurse: He's a surgeon. He specializes in the breast.
Me: Why do I need to see him?
Nurse: Well, you had another issue, with the nipple, right?
Me: Oh.
I still think that was just an infection in the duct. Since it discharged, there has been no further swelling or tenderness. It's perfectly normal now. But I guess I have to see the surgeon, because if I don't, well, that's just the way things work.
As far as I'm concerned, the scare is over.
---------------------------
Later -
I just looked over previous posts, and I guess I didn't describe what made me take my nipple to the doctor.
Here's the story.
I normally wear a sleep bra, because I sleep on my stomach or left side, and I can pinch myself easily (usually on the left), and that will hurt for days. But when I'm with The Man, I don't wear it. And he knows not to pinch. Gently gently.
When I was with him in mid-January, I figured I must have hurt me, because the left nipple was tender off and on for about three weeks. Then Wednesday of last week it got extremely tender and sore even when nothing was touching it. The nub was swollen and red. The swelling and tenderness was just in the nipple. There was no problem around or under it. I lifted it to look, and it spurted a thick milky fluid, followed by a drop of blood from a single duct. Looked like an infection to me, and I didn't want it to go deeper, so I called the doctor, and they got me in the next day.
Of course, by the time I got to the doctor, it looked a lot better. The redness and tenderness was gone, there was only a tiny difference in size, and we had a heck of a time getting a bit of discharge for the microscope. Which discharge, by the way, was clear, except for the last little bit, which was blood-tinged.
Dr. D. did a manual exam, of course, and she said the left breast was a bit "ropy" on the outer side. I'm very familiar with my breasts, and I can't feel ANY difference between the left and right, so I don't know what she's talking about.
She scheduled a mammogram and ultrasound for the next day, last Friday.
I don't think the ropiness is anything. Too much coffee will cause that. It's probably just ducts toughening up. And I think the nipple thing was just an infection.
--------------------
I've never had any pain with mammograms. Squishing doesn't seem to hurt, and before menopause my breasts were unusually dense, so they squished them hard.
Friday, the first two (horizontal and 45 degree angle) didn't hurt. But then she did a straight up-and-down one that I'd never seen before - and that one had me gritting my teeth.
Then the woman with the ultrasound went to town on me. She pushed that thing up and down my breasts like she was trying to bulldoze a hill flat.
Both the girls are now really sore. They ache all the way from under the arms to the breastbone, even when nothing's touching them.
---------------------------
Later update -
Appointment with surgeon is February 27. They put me on a cancellation wait list, so maybe sooner.
.
I called the doctor first thing this morning, and talked to one of the women at the desk. She said the mammo results were back, and it was "within normal limits". She didn't say anything about the ultrasound, or the discharge culture/microexam, but I'll be picking up the reports and the CD later today, so I'll read it myself then.
However,
Nurse: Dr. D. wants you to see Dr. W.
Me: Dr. W? Who's Dr. W?
Nurse: He's a surgeon. He specializes in the breast.
Me: Why do I need to see him?
Nurse: Well, you had another issue, with the nipple, right?
Me: Oh.
I still think that was just an infection in the duct. Since it discharged, there has been no further swelling or tenderness. It's perfectly normal now. But I guess I have to see the surgeon, because if I don't, well, that's just the way things work.
As far as I'm concerned, the scare is over.
---------------------------
Later -
I just looked over previous posts, and I guess I didn't describe what made me take my nipple to the doctor.
Here's the story.
I normally wear a sleep bra, because I sleep on my stomach or left side, and I can pinch myself easily (usually on the left), and that will hurt for days. But when I'm with The Man, I don't wear it. And he knows not to pinch. Gently gently.
When I was with him in mid-January, I figured I must have hurt me, because the left nipple was tender off and on for about three weeks. Then Wednesday of last week it got extremely tender and sore even when nothing was touching it. The nub was swollen and red. The swelling and tenderness was just in the nipple. There was no problem around or under it. I lifted it to look, and it spurted a thick milky fluid, followed by a drop of blood from a single duct. Looked like an infection to me, and I didn't want it to go deeper, so I called the doctor, and they got me in the next day.
Of course, by the time I got to the doctor, it looked a lot better. The redness and tenderness was gone, there was only a tiny difference in size, and we had a heck of a time getting a bit of discharge for the microscope. Which discharge, by the way, was clear, except for the last little bit, which was blood-tinged.
Dr. D. did a manual exam, of course, and she said the left breast was a bit "ropy" on the outer side. I'm very familiar with my breasts, and I can't feel ANY difference between the left and right, so I don't know what she's talking about.
She scheduled a mammogram and ultrasound for the next day, last Friday.
I don't think the ropiness is anything. Too much coffee will cause that. It's probably just ducts toughening up. And I think the nipple thing was just an infection.
--------------------
I've never had any pain with mammograms. Squishing doesn't seem to hurt, and before menopause my breasts were unusually dense, so they squished them hard.
Friday, the first two (horizontal and 45 degree angle) didn't hurt. But then she did a straight up-and-down one that I'd never seen before - and that one had me gritting my teeth.
Then the woman with the ultrasound went to town on me. She pushed that thing up and down my breasts like she was trying to bulldoze a hill flat.
Both the girls are now really sore. They ache all the way from under the arms to the breastbone, even when nothing's touching them.
---------------------------
Later update -
Appointment with surgeon is February 27. They put me on a cancellation wait list, so maybe sooner.
.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
2263 Estate Lawyer
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Today I saw the lawyer who worked with me to settle Jay's estate. I took her the tiny bit of paper I had been sent from Jay's father's estate lawyer, and told her the few things I knew about what was going on. She was aghast. There's a whole bunch of stuff that was supposed to have happened before other things happened, papers to be signed, accountings I should have seen, and so on. She was surprised that all I was sent of the will is the one page that had my name on it, so we don't even know what the date on that page is.
I went to her only because it's looking like the sisters are playing fast and loose, and their lawyer (who was the one complicit in the rewriting of the will when she knew his diagnosis) doesn't seem to know the rules and procedures. So my lawyer is going to make sure they follow the rules, and I'm not cheated. She is going to find a lawyer in Rochester to represent me, through her.
Um, to review - after Jay died, the father-in-law updated his will so that I got Jay's share of his (the FIL's) estate. Before he died, Jay had asked his father to not forget me in his will. Jay had been named as FIL's executor, so he changed it so that I was named as a co-executor with the eldest sister. The eldest sister lives in Virginia, and the other two sisters didn't want to be executors, so I, being in NY and closest to Rochester, was a logical choice.
Then the husband of the youngest sister found out that I was going to get the same share as his wife (in other words, twice as much as HE would "get"), and apparently he flipped out. AFTER the father was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, the two younger sisters took him back to the lawyer and had the will rewritten, cutting my share in half, and naming themselves as executors. The eldest sister and I didn't find out about this later will until after the FIL died. Big surprise.
The eldest sister was furious. At that point, the younger sisters said yes, it was after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and yes, he was not competent then and everyone knew it, but if anyone fought this will, they'd spent every cent of the estate defending it and no one would get anything, so there.
Ok.
At first I was angry that they'd do something so underhanded, then I decided it didn't matter that much, and ok, as merely Jay's spouse, half a share is probably quite fair.
But then they started pulling crap. Nothing in the house was appraised or even listed. They just took the good stuff home and threw the crap away. They bought loads of new furniture (sofas, vases, lamps, dining room furniture, bed coverings, curtains, throw pillows, coffee and side tables, rugs) to show the house, charged the new furniture to the estate, and then took that home, too. The house was sold to a neighbor for about a third of its value, or at least that's the number I was told. Travel costs for them and their grown children to attend the funeral are being charged to the estate. All kinds of things are being charged to the estate. They're raiding it. I would not be at all surprised to find that they're paying themselves the maximum executor stipend, too.
So whole bunches of money is being drained from the estate and going into their pockets as "costs", and my portion, which would be out of what's left over, is getting smaller and smaller as a result.
I want to see the final accounting, and my lawyer is going to get it for me, and we're going to raise hell where necessary.
------------------------------
After my doctor's appointment last Thursday and the "emergency" mammogram and ultrasound Friday, they told me that my doctor's office would call me with the results on Wednesday. Tomorrow.
The doctor (not a nurse) called the house at 4:45 today, while I was at the lawyer's office, and I didn't get home until 5:00, after her office had closed, so I couldn't call back. Her message simply said to call her.
Is that a good or bad sign? That she called, rather than a nurse? That she called so close to closing, a day before expected? Like there was no time to waste or something?
Aaaaaaaaaaagh! I hadn't been at all worried, but now I am.
.
Today I saw the lawyer who worked with me to settle Jay's estate. I took her the tiny bit of paper I had been sent from Jay's father's estate lawyer, and told her the few things I knew about what was going on. She was aghast. There's a whole bunch of stuff that was supposed to have happened before other things happened, papers to be signed, accountings I should have seen, and so on. She was surprised that all I was sent of the will is the one page that had my name on it, so we don't even know what the date on that page is.
I went to her only because it's looking like the sisters are playing fast and loose, and their lawyer (who was the one complicit in the rewriting of the will when she knew his diagnosis) doesn't seem to know the rules and procedures. So my lawyer is going to make sure they follow the rules, and I'm not cheated. She is going to find a lawyer in Rochester to represent me, through her.
Um, to review - after Jay died, the father-in-law updated his will so that I got Jay's share of his (the FIL's) estate. Before he died, Jay had asked his father to not forget me in his will. Jay had been named as FIL's executor, so he changed it so that I was named as a co-executor with the eldest sister. The eldest sister lives in Virginia, and the other two sisters didn't want to be executors, so I, being in NY and closest to Rochester, was a logical choice.
Then the husband of the youngest sister found out that I was going to get the same share as his wife (in other words, twice as much as HE would "get"), and apparently he flipped out. AFTER the father was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, the two younger sisters took him back to the lawyer and had the will rewritten, cutting my share in half, and naming themselves as executors. The eldest sister and I didn't find out about this later will until after the FIL died. Big surprise.
The eldest sister was furious. At that point, the younger sisters said yes, it was after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and yes, he was not competent then and everyone knew it, but if anyone fought this will, they'd spent every cent of the estate defending it and no one would get anything, so there.
Ok.
At first I was angry that they'd do something so underhanded, then I decided it didn't matter that much, and ok, as merely Jay's spouse, half a share is probably quite fair.
But then they started pulling crap. Nothing in the house was appraised or even listed. They just took the good stuff home and threw the crap away. They bought loads of new furniture (sofas, vases, lamps, dining room furniture, bed coverings, curtains, throw pillows, coffee and side tables, rugs) to show the house, charged the new furniture to the estate, and then took that home, too. The house was sold to a neighbor for about a third of its value, or at least that's the number I was told. Travel costs for them and their grown children to attend the funeral are being charged to the estate. All kinds of things are being charged to the estate. They're raiding it. I would not be at all surprised to find that they're paying themselves the maximum executor stipend, too.
So whole bunches of money is being drained from the estate and going into their pockets as "costs", and my portion, which would be out of what's left over, is getting smaller and smaller as a result.
I want to see the final accounting, and my lawyer is going to get it for me, and we're going to raise hell where necessary.
------------------------------
After my doctor's appointment last Thursday and the "emergency" mammogram and ultrasound Friday, they told me that my doctor's office would call me with the results on Wednesday. Tomorrow.
The doctor (not a nurse) called the house at 4:45 today, while I was at the lawyer's office, and I didn't get home until 5:00, after her office had closed, so I couldn't call back. Her message simply said to call her.
Is that a good or bad sign? That she called, rather than a nurse? That she called so close to closing, a day before expected? Like there was no time to waste or something?
Aaaaaaaaaaagh! I hadn't been at all worried, but now I am.
.
Monday, February 09, 2009
2262 Is It Monday Already?
Monday, February 9, 2009
Nothing much happening. Dropped some stuff off at Daughter's on Saturday. Hercules was on a group hike, and Daughter was in south Jersey kick-starting her father after his Thursday gall bladder surgery, so I just left the stuff on the porch. Haven't heard from her yet. Strange.
Nothing Sunday. Didn't even get dressed.
Today I picked up Jasper from his weekend at the vet's. He's still on the same medicines. They said he's piddling ok, and drinking enough water, but he's got "irritation" from the earlier infection, it hurts, and that's why he piddles small amounts, often, in unapproved places. We are now on a prescription diet. Both cats ate it for dinner, so that's not too bad, I guess.
Droopy feeling. I'll probably go to bed early.
---------------------------------
The difference between men's brains and women's brains - in case anyone wondered:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuMZ73mT5zM]
.
Nothing much happening. Dropped some stuff off at Daughter's on Saturday. Hercules was on a group hike, and Daughter was in south Jersey kick-starting her father after his Thursday gall bladder surgery, so I just left the stuff on the porch. Haven't heard from her yet. Strange.
Nothing Sunday. Didn't even get dressed.
Today I picked up Jasper from his weekend at the vet's. He's still on the same medicines. They said he's piddling ok, and drinking enough water, but he's got "irritation" from the earlier infection, it hurts, and that's why he piddles small amounts, often, in unapproved places. We are now on a prescription diet. Both cats ate it for dinner, so that's not too bad, I guess.
Droopy feeling. I'll probably go to bed early.
---------------------------------
The difference between men's brains and women's brains - in case anyone wondered:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuMZ73mT5zM]
.
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