Friday, June 6, 2008
While I was in Rochester, the eldest sister kept asking me if there was anything in the house that I wanted.
There wasn't a lot left except large pieces of furniture, and trash, and most of the furniture had pieces of tape on it with the names of the younger sisters and their daughters. The younger sisters and their husbands had gone through the house earlier, filled several dumpsters, and took home a few truckloads of the more portable good stuff. (Legal note - all of it is part of the estate, I'm entitled to a portion of that estate or the value thereof, and I'm thoroughly pissed that none of it had been appraised.)
There were only a few things that I wanted. One is a beautiful genuine Irish blackthorn walking stick I had given to the FIL a few years ago. The other was a few things that Jay had mentioned before he died: projects he had worked on, experimental photographs he had taken, his scouting badges, a carved wooden French Revolution chess set, stuff like that. He would have picked them up during an earlier visit to Rochester, but the FIL was a pack rat, and had no idea where any of Jay's stuff might be. I thought that perhaps the sisters would set Jay's things aside for me. But I didn't realize they were purging the house so soon, and I didn't get my word in before they filled the dumpsters.
The caregiver said she had seen the blackthorn before the FIL died. Now, of course, it's nowhere to be found, and everyone claims they didn't see it. Either someone has it and won't admit it, or several hundred dollars of blackthorn went into the dumpster. The caregiver brought me a box she spotted that had my name and "Jay's stuff" written on it. It contained a battered felt cowboy hat that would have been too small for him (I already have his good hats), a cheap chess set, and a six-inch stack of paper. That's all.
So Wednesday night in the hotel room I spent about three hours reading through the papers. It looks like they just found a file labeled "Jay" and threw the contents into a box without looking at it. It was all materials having to do with Jay's application for math summer enrichment programs when he was in high school. That's all.
He had to write essays for the applications. I read all of the typed essays, and thought, "This isn't Jay. He didn't write these." The style was his father's, not his, including the overuse of exclamation points! Like on sentences like this! That habit of his father used to drive Jay crazy!
And then I found one of the typed essays written in longhand. His father's longhand. Jay had always said that nothing he ever did was good enough for his father, that his father had always taken over on everything. This was almost like a haunting. I was reminded of when my daughter was writing essays for college applications. She would not allow me to so much as suggest anything. In fact, I never saw any of the essays she wrote. I have to contrast that with Jay's father's controlling everything. It was one of the reasons Jay had so much difficulty making decisions.
The stack happened to include a few letters Jay had written home from Paris (in longhand), when he had college summer internships there. Those I kept. All the rest of the contents of the box I threw out.
On Thursday I happened to notice a file cabinet in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I opened a drawer, and it was still full of paper. One file was labeled "Jay". I pulled the contents, and found all the letters I had written to his father during Jay's illness, detailing the diagnosis, the treatments, what was happening with Jay, right up to the end, when I had to warn his father about things he should avoid mentioning in phone calls, since Jay had no short term memory and it would just upset him.
I took those letters downstairs and put them in my tote bag, and didn't mention them to anyone.
.
Friday, June 06, 2008
1837 Not Sure Why
Friday, June 6, 2008
I've spent the past few days in Rochester, helping Jay's eldest sister to get the late FIL's house ready to show.
I couldn't believe what they're asking for the house. It's about 1.75 times the size of my house, five bedrooms (the two upstairs are huge, and share a bathroom with double sinks, etc.), 2.5 bathrooms, 40-some windows (I know, 'cause I personally washed about a third of them), two fireplaces (one with an old marble Victorian surround) a huge basement, about an acre or more of land, huge very old trees, in a beautiful old neighborhood where every house is different and all use professional landscapers.
Even in the current depressed market, with what my house would fetch, I could buy his house and another equal to it, and still have $50,000 left over to remodel or decorate. It's crazy. Rochester must be terribly depressed. We did some shopping for decorating touches that took us all over the city, and it seemed like there were a lot of closed and boarded up businesses, and a lot of parking lots of open businesses looked uncared for. Grass growing in the cracks and so on. It seemed like the things we were looking at in the stores (patio furniture, 9x12 "oriental" rugs, towels, silk plants at Michaels, etc.) were a LOT cheaper than down here.
Conclusion, if you don't mind snow, and would like being near excellent medical centers and elder-care facilities, Rochester, NY, might be a good place to retire.
------------------------------
The "crew" consisted of one of Dad's caregivers, her two late-teen/early 20s sons, her father, me, and Jay's eldest sister (who happens to be exactly the same age as I am). The boys mostly did outside work, washing the outsides of the windows, power washing the siding and the patio. The father installed several window air conditioners. The caregiver and I cleaned the inside of windows on Wednesday, and washed 40 years of soot and grime off every flat surface. Thursday we scoured bathrooms. I spent three hours on the half bath alone. Every inch had to be scrubbed. The cabinets had to be cleaned out, and --- I'm not kidding --- I had to whack things stuck to the shelves with a hammer to loosen them.
Eldest sister, in the meantime, wandered around rearranging furniture, talking on the phone, making lists of touches to arrange and things to buy, hanging pictures, and otherwise decorating. She didn't even get her hands dirty. She issued orders to the rest of us whenever she noticed something that needed cleaning.
By 7 pm last evening, I'd had it. I was lying on the floor with my head and shoulders stuck in the under-sink cabinet in the master bath, and suddenly I wondered what the heck I was doing, and why. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and I was being treated like a hired hand. The caregiver and her family were being paid for their time. I was a volunteer. And I wasn't sure why.
At that point eldest sister said she was going shopping for more stuff, and invited me along, and I made a snap decision. I was tired, and I was going back to the hotel. And I did.
(I had been invited to stay at the house, but I knew if I did, I'd be worked into the ground, 7 am to 11 pm, so instead I spent $360 on a hotel. I'm wondering now if I can bill the estate for the hotel and the $60 in gas.)
So, I went to an Appleby's near the hotel, got a takeout dinner, and fell asleep lying across the bed, fully dressed, before I could finish my ribs. I slept 13 hours, straight through.
I went back this morning and cleaned off and dusted some shelves, and then headed home at noon. I sneezed and coughed all the way home, from the house dust. I've been digging black oily dust out of my nose for the past two days.
The realtor is bringing some people to see the house this evening. I hope they buy it!
.
I've spent the past few days in Rochester, helping Jay's eldest sister to get the late FIL's house ready to show.
I couldn't believe what they're asking for the house. It's about 1.75 times the size of my house, five bedrooms (the two upstairs are huge, and share a bathroom with double sinks, etc.), 2.5 bathrooms, 40-some windows (I know, 'cause I personally washed about a third of them), two fireplaces (one with an old marble Victorian surround) a huge basement, about an acre or more of land, huge very old trees, in a beautiful old neighborhood where every house is different and all use professional landscapers.
Even in the current depressed market, with what my house would fetch, I could buy his house and another equal to it, and still have $50,000 left over to remodel or decorate. It's crazy. Rochester must be terribly depressed. We did some shopping for decorating touches that took us all over the city, and it seemed like there were a lot of closed and boarded up businesses, and a lot of parking lots of open businesses looked uncared for. Grass growing in the cracks and so on. It seemed like the things we were looking at in the stores (patio furniture, 9x12 "oriental" rugs, towels, silk plants at Michaels, etc.) were a LOT cheaper than down here.
Conclusion, if you don't mind snow, and would like being near excellent medical centers and elder-care facilities, Rochester, NY, might be a good place to retire.
------------------------------
The "crew" consisted of one of Dad's caregivers, her two late-teen/early 20s sons, her father, me, and Jay's eldest sister (who happens to be exactly the same age as I am). The boys mostly did outside work, washing the outsides of the windows, power washing the siding and the patio. The father installed several window air conditioners. The caregiver and I cleaned the inside of windows on Wednesday, and washed 40 years of soot and grime off every flat surface. Thursday we scoured bathrooms. I spent three hours on the half bath alone. Every inch had to be scrubbed. The cabinets had to be cleaned out, and --- I'm not kidding --- I had to whack things stuck to the shelves with a hammer to loosen them.
Eldest sister, in the meantime, wandered around rearranging furniture, talking on the phone, making lists of touches to arrange and things to buy, hanging pictures, and otherwise decorating. She didn't even get her hands dirty. She issued orders to the rest of us whenever she noticed something that needed cleaning.
By 7 pm last evening, I'd had it. I was lying on the floor with my head and shoulders stuck in the under-sink cabinet in the master bath, and suddenly I wondered what the heck I was doing, and why. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and I was being treated like a hired hand. The caregiver and her family were being paid for their time. I was a volunteer. And I wasn't sure why.
At that point eldest sister said she was going shopping for more stuff, and invited me along, and I made a snap decision. I was tired, and I was going back to the hotel. And I did.
(I had been invited to stay at the house, but I knew if I did, I'd be worked into the ground, 7 am to 11 pm, so instead I spent $360 on a hotel. I'm wondering now if I can bill the estate for the hotel and the $60 in gas.)
So, I went to an Appleby's near the hotel, got a takeout dinner, and fell asleep lying across the bed, fully dressed, before I could finish my ribs. I slept 13 hours, straight through.
I went back this morning and cleaned off and dusted some shelves, and then headed home at noon. I sneezed and coughed all the way home, from the house dust. I've been digging black oily dust out of my nose for the past two days.
The realtor is bringing some people to see the house this evening. I hope they buy it!
.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
1836 Lesson
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Even if you do need to get out the door quickly, do not just grab a handful of shirts you haven't worn since last summer and throw them in your bag without trying them on, or you'll find yourself in another city with a handful of shirts that won't button over your chest.
Better yet, don't date a guy who doesn't mind that you gained 10 lbs over the winter. Makes things too easy. Disaster.
.
Even if you do need to get out the door quickly, do not just grab a handful of shirts you haven't worn since last summer and throw them in your bag without trying them on, or you'll find yourself in another city with a handful of shirts that won't button over your chest.
Better yet, don't date a guy who doesn't mind that you gained 10 lbs over the winter. Makes things too easy. Disaster.
.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
1835 On the Road Again
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
I'm in a hotel in Rochester, NY, tonight. I'm meeting Jay's eldest sister at the late FIL's house tomorrow. We'll see what remains of the other siblings' depredations.
.
I'm in a hotel in Rochester, NY, tonight. I'm meeting Jay's eldest sister at the late FIL's house tomorrow. We'll see what remains of the other siblings' depredations.
.
Monday, June 02, 2008
1834 Shakeup
Monday, June 2, 2008
Today has been an up down all around shake it up day. I'm completely worn out.
I mentioned that Jay's father died a few weeks ago. Turns out there were some very sneaky and even illegal things done concerning his estate. It's turning into a real snakepit.
Piper predicted that stuff like this would happen, he sees it all the time, and I naively said no, not with these folks. He shook his head, and said that the larger the estate, the nastier the people.
Well, it's even worse than he figured.
No details, but let's postulate, just for sake of argument, that a second will has appeared, postdating the "known" one, and the second one was signed after someone was declared incompetent, without the knowledge of certain of the siblings, and threats have been made that if anyone fights it, the entire estate will be spent defending it and there won't be anything left for anyone, so shut up, and so on. Oh, and the house was cleaned out by some siblings without the knowledge of the others. Without any appraisals. And of course no one has any idea where the Academy Award went.
If there happened to be someone concerned who has been damaged by the new will, which she believes does not reflect his expressed wishes, and that particular someone would not have minded if she got nothing in the will if that was his desire, since she is only the widow of a deceased son, but had been told that she would get the deceased son's share in appreciation of what she had done for him, and that's what was in the first will, but she has been thrown a sop in the new will apparently on the theory that she's as greedy as the rest and will accept a pittance rather than the nothing she might get if she blew the whistle, well, if there happened to be someone like that,
Today has been an up down all around shake it up day. I'm completely worn out.
I mentioned that Jay's father died a few weeks ago. Turns out there were some very sneaky and even illegal things done concerning his estate. It's turning into a real snakepit.
Piper predicted that stuff like this would happen, he sees it all the time, and I naively said no, not with these folks. He shook his head, and said that the larger the estate, the nastier the people.
Well, it's even worse than he figured.
No details, but let's postulate, just for sake of argument, that a second will has appeared, postdating the "known" one, and the second one was signed after someone was declared incompetent, without the knowledge of certain of the siblings, and threats have been made that if anyone fights it, the entire estate will be spent defending it and there won't be anything left for anyone, so shut up, and so on. Oh, and the house was cleaned out by some siblings without the knowledge of the others. Without any appraisals. And of course no one has any idea where the Academy Award went.
If there happened to be someone concerned who has been damaged by the new will, which she believes does not reflect his expressed wishes, and that particular someone would not have minded if she got nothing in the will if that was his desire, since she is only the widow of a deceased son, but had been told that she would get the deceased son's share in appreciation of what she had done for him, and that's what was in the first will, but she has been thrown a sop in the new will apparently on the theory that she's as greedy as the rest and will accept a pittance rather than the nothing she might get if she blew the whistle, well, if there happened to be someone like that,
THEY GROSSLY OVERESTIMATED HER GREED AND UNDERESTIMATED HER CAPACITY TO STAND UP FOR MORAL PRINCIPLE AND THE RULE OF LAW !!!
.
.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
1833 Sex and the Country Girl
Sunday, June 1, 2008
The post about Rape and Stuff has generated a few comments and a few private confessional emails, enough to convince me even further that 1 in 4 is too low. And I wasn't even counting simple physical harassment.
When I married Ex#1, and again when I married Ex#2, they each had a best friend, a buddy they'd known for years, best man at the wedding.
Ex#1 and I had a week together before he left for military duty in Germany, and then I was alone. One day, about a month after Ex#1 left, there was a knock on the door, and I found the buddy standing there. He said he'd had a fight with his wife, and wanted to talk. Naturally, I let him in, and within seconds he was all over me. At one point he grabbed me from behind, and I jumped up and came down with a high heel on his sneakered foot. I broke two toes. That convinced him I was serious, and he left, and as soon as he was out the door I called his wife, told her he'd been there, and that I was sending him home with a broken foot. She said "Thank you." I never told Ex#1, but he was angry with me after that because I never wanted to visit them.
Ex#2 and I had been married about two weeks when he had some second shift testing slots, and sure enough, one evening the best buddy came to visit. Again, he came on strong immediately, and couldn't seem to understand when I told him to get out. I literally had to swing a lamp to get him out. I called Ex#2 at work and told him what had happened. I don't know what was said between them, but the two remained friends. I just didn't have to see him ever again.
What really got me was the attitude of both buddies. They really truly seemed to feel that their friendship with my husband conferred a right to my sexual favors. They acted like it was some kind of social contract that I didn't seem to understand, that they had permission. That my husband would be willing to share, and I had no say in the matter.
Is there something I don't know? Some kind of male code?
------------------------
I saw the Sex and the City movie. I'm not going to say much about it, except that it was pretty much like the series, ties it all up neatly. If you liked the show, you'll like the movie, if you don't know the show, you probably won't "get" the movie.
I want to talk about the audience.
It's a small multiplex in the village, the kind with about 100 seats in each theater, and audio spillage from the movies on either side. Ironman and Indiana Jones happened to be showing on either side. Bleck. You have to practice selective hearing.
Anyway, with those two also showing, I couldn't understand why there were ANY men in S&tC. About 1/4 of the seats were filled for the 5 o'clock showing. It was mostly groups of women, but there were a few men with women. I guess there are still women out there who won't go to a movie alone, and men who will humor their women. (I know that The Man would absolutely refuse to escort me to something like S&tC!)
I was amused to see one man there alone, and more amused to see four all-male couples, couples who leaned into each other.
One man/woman couple behind me reminded me why there are several men in my history in whom I had lost interest immediately after attending a movie with them.
The guy had to comment constantly, in a normal volume voice, on what was going to happen. Obvious stuff. Like Big says he's going to build Carrie a larger closet. Later, he leads her to a closed door, and says, "Open it." The genius behind me says, "It's a closet." Carrie opens the closet door. Samantha sees a dog for sale, and looks at it with raised eyebrows. Genius says, "She's gonna buy the dog." Samantha buys the dog.
This was like every 30 seconds!
I have to wonder.
Does he always verbalize every thought that drifts through his pea brain?
Is he trying to illustrate how perceptive he is?
Does he really think his date is too stupid to interpret what she's seeing?
I was very tempted to turn around and ask the woman that last question - "Excuse me, but does he always assume you're too stupid to figure things out for yourself?"
Next time, I sit in the last row.
.
The post about Rape and Stuff has generated a few comments and a few private confessional emails, enough to convince me even further that 1 in 4 is too low. And I wasn't even counting simple physical harassment.
When I married Ex#1, and again when I married Ex#2, they each had a best friend, a buddy they'd known for years, best man at the wedding.
Ex#1 and I had a week together before he left for military duty in Germany, and then I was alone. One day, about a month after Ex#1 left, there was a knock on the door, and I found the buddy standing there. He said he'd had a fight with his wife, and wanted to talk. Naturally, I let him in, and within seconds he was all over me. At one point he grabbed me from behind, and I jumped up and came down with a high heel on his sneakered foot. I broke two toes. That convinced him I was serious, and he left, and as soon as he was out the door I called his wife, told her he'd been there, and that I was sending him home with a broken foot. She said "Thank you." I never told Ex#1, but he was angry with me after that because I never wanted to visit them.
Ex#2 and I had been married about two weeks when he had some second shift testing slots, and sure enough, one evening the best buddy came to visit. Again, he came on strong immediately, and couldn't seem to understand when I told him to get out. I literally had to swing a lamp to get him out. I called Ex#2 at work and told him what had happened. I don't know what was said between them, but the two remained friends. I just didn't have to see him ever again.
What really got me was the attitude of both buddies. They really truly seemed to feel that their friendship with my husband conferred a right to my sexual favors. They acted like it was some kind of social contract that I didn't seem to understand, that they had permission. That my husband would be willing to share, and I had no say in the matter.
Is there something I don't know? Some kind of male code?
------------------------
I saw the Sex and the City movie. I'm not going to say much about it, except that it was pretty much like the series, ties it all up neatly. If you liked the show, you'll like the movie, if you don't know the show, you probably won't "get" the movie.
I want to talk about the audience.
It's a small multiplex in the village, the kind with about 100 seats in each theater, and audio spillage from the movies on either side. Ironman and Indiana Jones happened to be showing on either side. Bleck. You have to practice selective hearing.
Anyway, with those two also showing, I couldn't understand why there were ANY men in S&tC. About 1/4 of the seats were filled for the 5 o'clock showing. It was mostly groups of women, but there were a few men with women. I guess there are still women out there who won't go to a movie alone, and men who will humor their women. (I know that The Man would absolutely refuse to escort me to something like S&tC!)
I was amused to see one man there alone, and more amused to see four all-male couples, couples who leaned into each other.
One man/woman couple behind me reminded me why there are several men in my history in whom I had lost interest immediately after attending a movie with them.
The guy had to comment constantly, in a normal volume voice, on what was going to happen. Obvious stuff. Like Big says he's going to build Carrie a larger closet. Later, he leads her to a closed door, and says, "Open it." The genius behind me says, "It's a closet." Carrie opens the closet door. Samantha sees a dog for sale, and looks at it with raised eyebrows. Genius says, "She's gonna buy the dog." Samantha buys the dog.
This was like every 30 seconds!
I have to wonder.
Does he always verbalize every thought that drifts through his pea brain?
Is he trying to illustrate how perceptive he is?
Does he really think his date is too stupid to interpret what she's seeing?
I was very tempted to turn around and ask the woman that last question - "Excuse me, but does he always assume you're too stupid to figure things out for yourself?"
Next time, I sit in the last row.
.
1832 Springtime Squirrels
Sunday, June 1, 2008
I couldn't resist putting this one in for The Queen, who greatly appreciates pictures of squirrels.
.
I couldn't resist putting this one in for The Queen, who greatly appreciates pictures of squirrels.
.
1831 Thud
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Grueling winter sports competition on TV. Man shown climbing a steep snow-covered 40 degree slope on skis. Wow. Looks tough.
...then I notice that all the scattered pine trees in the background are growing at about a 30 degree angle off perpendicular.
Oh, come on. Did they really think we're that gullible?
Thud.
.
Grueling winter sports competition on TV. Man shown climbing a steep snow-covered 40 degree slope on skis. Wow. Looks tough.
...then I notice that all the scattered pine trees in the background are growing at about a 30 degree angle off perpendicular.
Oh, come on. Did they really think we're that gullible?
Thud.
.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
1830 Thud
Thursday, May 29, 2008
There was a promo for Tyra Banks' talk show. Tomorrow we're going to find out "how to identify a fake purse".
Um, that's easy, isn't it? A purse is a baggish thing you can carry and put stuff in. If you can put stuff in something, and it's not too heavy, it's a purse. If you can't, like maybe it has no opening, or it's made out of ceramic, or it's solid metal, it's a fake purse.
Oh? That's not what they meant?
What they should have said is that tomorrow we'll find out how to tell whether you have been ripped off by a designer, or ripped off by an impostor. Like that matters.
Thud.
.
There was a promo for Tyra Banks' talk show. Tomorrow we're going to find out "how to identify a fake purse".
Um, that's easy, isn't it? A purse is a baggish thing you can carry and put stuff in. If you can put stuff in something, and it's not too heavy, it's a purse. If you can't, like maybe it has no opening, or it's made out of ceramic, or it's solid metal, it's a fake purse.
Oh? That's not what they meant?
What they should have said is that tomorrow we'll find out how to tell whether you have been ripped off by a designer, or ripped off by an impostor. Like that matters.
Thud.
.
1829 Rape and stuff ...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Caught a few minutes of the Montel show this morning. Montel isn't looking good. It really does look like the pain is getting to him.
Anyway, the topic was child molestation, and his guests were women who had been molested by fathers or step-fathers. He said that 1 in 4 women will have been raped at some time in their lives. I don't know where he got that figure, but it seems to me like it should be higher. Much higher.
Of all the women friends I've talked with at an intimate level, about half say they were were molested to some degree as a child by a family member or close friend of the family. Of my four closest female family members and myself, all five of us were molested as children, by family members or neighbors. And by the time we realized it was wrong, or that we wouldn't be punished for telling, it's too late and there's no objective proof.
Almost all the women I know intimately have at one time or another as an adult been coerced into sex, to the point where it IS rape, but we didn't press charges because it wasn't stranger rape, it was date rape, and maybe we could have avoided it but it was safer and easier to acquiesce, because we felt guilty for things getting to that point, and therefore we know that there's no point in reporting it, because the only person who will be punished is ourselves. So instead, we believe the men who tell us it was our own fault, that we were "asking for it" (simply by existing, I guess), and we blame ourselves. Especially if we're young.
By the time I was in my mid-20s, they had beaten me down. I'd been forced and emotionally coerced and told it was my fault for "leading them on" so many times I was afraid of men, and I had no self-respect left. I thought it really was my fault. And back then, women and women's magazines didn't talk about it. It was a shameful topic. None of us knew that it was happening to anyone else. So we thought "It must be me. I'm doing something wrong. Maybe I AM bad, and they see that."
I think Montel's number, 1 in 4, is too low. That's probably what "they" know about. I think a lot more children are molested than anyone will ever know.
What the hell is it with men?
Things may be better now for adult women than they were when I was a young woman. Back then, men seemed to think they could get away with anything as far as women were concerned. Not so very long ago, wives were chattel. Men were literally allowed to beat their wives and children. I'm not blowing smoke. Through the late '50s and early '60s my brother and I tried everything to stop our father's abuse - we told police, teachers, doctors, neighbors, everyone - and they all just shrugged and told us to obey him and keep out of his way. The workers in the hospitals had to know where the injuries came from, but they never said or did anything. The term "domestic violence" hasn't been in common usage for very long. "Women's liberation" was REAL. Young women today have no idea what was accomplished, and it distresses me when I see them throwing it away.
Oh, well.
Re an Ex -
Q: Why on earth did you marry the guy knowing he was completely impotent?
A: I didn't know he was impotent. I thought he was the only man I'd ever met who respected me.
.
Caught a few minutes of the Montel show this morning. Montel isn't looking good. It really does look like the pain is getting to him.
Anyway, the topic was child molestation, and his guests were women who had been molested by fathers or step-fathers. He said that 1 in 4 women will have been raped at some time in their lives. I don't know where he got that figure, but it seems to me like it should be higher. Much higher.
Of all the women friends I've talked with at an intimate level, about half say they were were molested to some degree as a child by a family member or close friend of the family. Of my four closest female family members and myself, all five of us were molested as children, by family members or neighbors. And by the time we realized it was wrong, or that we wouldn't be punished for telling, it's too late and there's no objective proof.
Almost all the women I know intimately have at one time or another as an adult been coerced into sex, to the point where it IS rape, but we didn't press charges because it wasn't stranger rape, it was date rape, and maybe we could have avoided it but it was safer and easier to acquiesce, because we felt guilty for things getting to that point, and therefore we know that there's no point in reporting it, because the only person who will be punished is ourselves. So instead, we believe the men who tell us it was our own fault, that we were "asking for it" (simply by existing, I guess), and we blame ourselves. Especially if we're young.
By the time I was in my mid-20s, they had beaten me down. I'd been forced and emotionally coerced and told it was my fault for "leading them on" so many times I was afraid of men, and I had no self-respect left. I thought it really was my fault. And back then, women and women's magazines didn't talk about it. It was a shameful topic. None of us knew that it was happening to anyone else. So we thought "It must be me. I'm doing something wrong. Maybe I AM bad, and they see that."
I think Montel's number, 1 in 4, is too low. That's probably what "they" know about. I think a lot more children are molested than anyone will ever know.
What the hell is it with men?
Things may be better now for adult women than they were when I was a young woman. Back then, men seemed to think they could get away with anything as far as women were concerned. Not so very long ago, wives were chattel. Men were literally allowed to beat their wives and children. I'm not blowing smoke. Through the late '50s and early '60s my brother and I tried everything to stop our father's abuse - we told police, teachers, doctors, neighbors, everyone - and they all just shrugged and told us to obey him and keep out of his way. The workers in the hospitals had to know where the injuries came from, but they never said or did anything. The term "domestic violence" hasn't been in common usage for very long. "Women's liberation" was REAL. Young women today have no idea what was accomplished, and it distresses me when I see them throwing it away.
Oh, well.
Re an Ex -
Q: Why on earth did you marry the guy knowing he was completely impotent?
A: I didn't know he was impotent. I thought he was the only man I'd ever met who respected me.
.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
1828 Thud
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
"Wife Swap" was on earlier this evening. I walked past the kitchen TV in time to see one of the wives described as a health nut, and it showed her making a "green drink" that she requires her children to drink every day. I saw her cutting rhubarb in the garden, chopping up the rhubarb leaves, and stuffing them into a blender to make the drink. Health nut? Rhubarb LEAVES?
Wikipedia: "Rhubarb leaves contain poisonous substances. Rhubarb leaves contain oxalic acid, a corrosive and nephrotoxic acid that is present in many plants. The LD50 (median lethal dose) for pure oxalic acid is predicted to be about 375 mg/kg body weight,[citation needed] or about 25 g for a 65 kg (~140 lb) human. While the oxalic acid content of rhubarb leaves can vary, a typical value is about 0.5%,[7] so a rather unlikely five kilograms of the extremely sour leaves would have to be consumed to reach an LD50 dose of oxalic acid. However, the leaves are believed to also contain an additional, unidentified toxin.[8] In the petioles, the amount of oxalic acid is much lower, only about 2-2.5% of the total acidity[9], especially when harvested before mid-June (in the northern hemisphere), but it is still enough to cause slightly rough teeth."
Ok, 11 pounds to kill a 140 lb person. But I imagine a few ounces every day for a child can't be good for them, or their kidneys. It's not one of those things where a lot is bad but a little is good, like, say, aspirin.
Thud.
.
"Wife Swap" was on earlier this evening. I walked past the kitchen TV in time to see one of the wives described as a health nut, and it showed her making a "green drink" that she requires her children to drink every day. I saw her cutting rhubarb in the garden, chopping up the rhubarb leaves, and stuffing them into a blender to make the drink. Health nut? Rhubarb LEAVES?
Wikipedia: "Rhubarb leaves contain poisonous substances. Rhubarb leaves contain oxalic acid, a corrosive and nephrotoxic acid that is present in many plants. The LD50 (median lethal dose) for pure oxalic acid is predicted to be about 375 mg/kg body weight,[citation needed] or about 25 g for a 65 kg (~140 lb) human. While the oxalic acid content of rhubarb leaves can vary, a typical value is about 0.5%,[7] so a rather unlikely five kilograms of the extremely sour leaves would have to be consumed to reach an LD50 dose of oxalic acid. However, the leaves are believed to also contain an additional, unidentified toxin.[8] In the petioles, the amount of oxalic acid is much lower, only about 2-2.5% of the total acidity[9], especially when harvested before mid-June (in the northern hemisphere), but it is still enough to cause slightly rough teeth."
Ok, 11 pounds to kill a 140 lb person. But I imagine a few ounces every day for a child can't be good for them, or their kidneys. It's not one of those things where a lot is bad but a little is good, like, say, aspirin.
Thud.
.
1827 Home and Catching Up
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I left home Saturday morning, and got home about 11 pm, last night. I should be tired, but I'm not.
I met the Man in NJ on Saturday, and we drove another 7 hours or so to a southern city, where he had a tournament on Sunday.
We had planned to go out after checking in on Saturday, but we found that there was a major festival going on, and our bay-side hotel was smack in the middle of it. Streets barricaded, bumper-to-bumper traffic, impossible parking, dense crowds on the sidewalks. Saturday night was apparently a big hip-hop concert, and after noting that half the males on the street were wearing plain white T-shirts with baggy black pants and half the females looked like hookers, he decided we weren't going out on those streets that evening. (Yeah, ok, that's the drug dealer uniform, but that doesn't mean EVERYBODY in black and white is a dealer.) And we couldn't go anywhere else, either, because it took like a half hour to go the last three blocks to the hotel, and we didn't want to go through that hassle twice more.
Damn if I can remember what we did do. Seriously. I do remember that it was a nice evening. Probably talked a lot. We talk a lot, and it's always enjoyable.
Sunday we went to the tournament, and then Sunday night the streets were still crowded, but it was a churchy crowd - something big going on in the church across the street - so it was ok. We had dinner at his favorite restaurant (I cut my steak with my fork and the asparagus was incredible), and then went to a huge arcade, where we raced our horses.
Yeah, raced horses. There's an arcade game called "Derby Owner's Club". You breed your own foal, feed it, train it, gain its confidence, keep it happy, and race it against computer generated horses and other players' horses on a wide screen. I've got a really good horse, a gray male sired by one of the Man's horses out of a computer dam. He's still young, but almost always comes in second (to the Man's horse, of course) and once we even beat him! By a nose, but hey! That race was long and so exciting that another couple who also had horses in the race were cheering on MY horse! He got a lot of praise and a big bunch of bananas for dinner after that race.
Monday we started home. The seven hour drive took 12 hours, because the major highways were parking lots. The Man kept getting frustrated, leaving the highway to try to find a less crowded parallel path. We wandered around a lot. Got back to northern NJ at nearly midnight. I wasn't as tired as he was, because I wasn't driving, and was able to wiggle around in my seat, but he was concerned about my driving the last 1.75 hours to my home, so we ended up staying in NJ.
Tuesday morning, he went to work and I went to visit Daughter, introduced Clyde to them, spent the day there, and got home at 11 pm.
Today I spent catching up on mail, and nursing a sunburn (two days in a convertible will do that to you), and walking a bit to make up for all the sitting over the weekend. My mailbox (the one at the end of the driveway) was packed so full the mail lady had tied the door closed, and both email in-boxes were choking.
.
I left home Saturday morning, and got home about 11 pm, last night. I should be tired, but I'm not.
I met the Man in NJ on Saturday, and we drove another 7 hours or so to a southern city, where he had a tournament on Sunday.
We had planned to go out after checking in on Saturday, but we found that there was a major festival going on, and our bay-side hotel was smack in the middle of it. Streets barricaded, bumper-to-bumper traffic, impossible parking, dense crowds on the sidewalks. Saturday night was apparently a big hip-hop concert, and after noting that half the males on the street were wearing plain white T-shirts with baggy black pants and half the females looked like hookers, he decided we weren't going out on those streets that evening. (Yeah, ok, that's the drug dealer uniform, but that doesn't mean EVERYBODY in black and white is a dealer.) And we couldn't go anywhere else, either, because it took like a half hour to go the last three blocks to the hotel, and we didn't want to go through that hassle twice more.
Damn if I can remember what we did do. Seriously. I do remember that it was a nice evening. Probably talked a lot. We talk a lot, and it's always enjoyable.
Sunday we went to the tournament, and then Sunday night the streets were still crowded, but it was a churchy crowd - something big going on in the church across the street - so it was ok. We had dinner at his favorite restaurant (I cut my steak with my fork and the asparagus was incredible), and then went to a huge arcade, where we raced our horses.
Yeah, raced horses. There's an arcade game called "Derby Owner's Club". You breed your own foal, feed it, train it, gain its confidence, keep it happy, and race it against computer generated horses and other players' horses on a wide screen. I've got a really good horse, a gray male sired by one of the Man's horses out of a computer dam. He's still young, but almost always comes in second (to the Man's horse, of course) and once we even beat him! By a nose, but hey! That race was long and so exciting that another couple who also had horses in the race were cheering on MY horse! He got a lot of praise and a big bunch of bananas for dinner after that race.
Monday we started home. The seven hour drive took 12 hours, because the major highways were parking lots. The Man kept getting frustrated, leaving the highway to try to find a less crowded parallel path. We wandered around a lot. Got back to northern NJ at nearly midnight. I wasn't as tired as he was, because I wasn't driving, and was able to wiggle around in my seat, but he was concerned about my driving the last 1.75 hours to my home, so we ended up staying in NJ.
Tuesday morning, he went to work and I went to visit Daughter, introduced Clyde to them, spent the day there, and got home at 11 pm.
Today I spent catching up on mail, and nursing a sunburn (two days in a convertible will do that to you), and walking a bit to make up for all the sitting over the weekend. My mailbox (the one at the end of the driveway) was packed so full the mail lady had tied the door closed, and both email in-boxes were choking.
.
Friday, May 23, 2008
1826 White Stuff
Friday, May 23, 2008
I'll be busy for a few days, so in the meantime I leave you "Stuff White People Like". It's hilarious, and uncomfortably true!
.
I'll be busy for a few days, so in the meantime I leave you "Stuff White People Like". It's hilarious, and uncomfortably true!
.
1825 Gas Prices
Friday, May 23, 2008
Gas prices at the three gas stations in the village this morning:
$4.09
$4.18
$4.27
I'm not so worried about the cost of gasoline for the car, on a personal level, because there are things I can do to lessen the impact. What I'm really worried about is the cost of fuel oil for next winter. I sorta like being warm.
.
Gas prices at the three gas stations in the village this morning:
$4.09
$4.18
$4.27
I'm not so worried about the cost of gasoline for the car, on a personal level, because there are things I can do to lessen the impact. What I'm really worried about is the cost of fuel oil for next winter. I sorta like being warm.
.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
1824 One part of the contract
Thursday, May 22, 2008
A few posts back I mused on the unspoken but understood contract in a relationship.
I can define one part of the contract with the Man. We've made an actual agreement.
I’d read that men not only dislike but actually fear emotional discussions of the type women love. They don’t want to think about what things mean, where things are going. They want things to just bump along. Women, on the other hand, fear emotional distance. They want to know exactly what’s going on, what things mean, how he feels, and so want to discuss everything.
This is absolutely true of both him and me. Drama scares the hell out of him, and withdrawal scares me. Given that drama gives withdrawal gives drama gives withdrawal gives ... wherever you want to jump into the cycle, a few months ago I proposed an agreement.
My part is no drama, no pressuring him into “relationship discussion”.
His part is to watch the emotional distance, stay connected. No silences.
I did warn him that sometimes I will have to tell him things about how I feel, but the important part is that I promise to do so unemotionally, logically, briefy net it out, just as information for him. All he has to do is listen. I will not expect him to respond or discuss - that's the important part. He can take that information and do whatever he wants with it.
He seemed to like that a lot.
So far it seems to be working. I think we've both relaxed.
Before, when things weren't going the way we might have wanted, usually that we weren't able to get together as often as we wanted, he would go quiet and withdraw, partially because he was afraid of my reaction. As a result of his withdrawal I'd get even more upset and demanding. Now, and I hope it sticks, he knows I'll stay calm, so he continues to reach out and touch, his affection is more constant. It keeps me calm, and that keeps him closer, which is even more satisfying to me.
Damn. I wish I'd known about this when I was younger.
.
A few posts back I mused on the unspoken but understood contract in a relationship.
I can define one part of the contract with the Man. We've made an actual agreement.
I’d read that men not only dislike but actually fear emotional discussions of the type women love. They don’t want to think about what things mean, where things are going. They want things to just bump along. Women, on the other hand, fear emotional distance. They want to know exactly what’s going on, what things mean, how he feels, and so want to discuss everything.
This is absolutely true of both him and me. Drama scares the hell out of him, and withdrawal scares me. Given that drama gives withdrawal gives drama gives withdrawal gives ... wherever you want to jump into the cycle, a few months ago I proposed an agreement.
My part is no drama, no pressuring him into “relationship discussion”.
His part is to watch the emotional distance, stay connected. No silences.
I did warn him that sometimes I will have to tell him things about how I feel, but the important part is that I promise to do so unemotionally, logically, briefy net it out, just as information for him. All he has to do is listen. I will not expect him to respond or discuss - that's the important part. He can take that information and do whatever he wants with it.
He seemed to like that a lot.
So far it seems to be working. I think we've both relaxed.
Before, when things weren't going the way we might have wanted, usually that we weren't able to get together as often as we wanted, he would go quiet and withdraw, partially because he was afraid of my reaction. As a result of his withdrawal I'd get even more upset and demanding. Now, and I hope it sticks, he knows I'll stay calm, so he continues to reach out and touch, his affection is more constant. It keeps me calm, and that keeps him closer, which is even more satisfying to me.
Damn. I wish I'd known about this when I was younger.
.
1823 Earthquake
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
We've heard about the earthquakes in China. We've seen the pictures and heard some interviews. Leland Wong is a photographer in China, and he was photographing a wedding when the earthquake hit. His photos are at http://www.xanga.com/lelandwong/657607591/photographing-a-wedding-and-then-an-earthquake.html.
.
We've heard about the earthquakes in China. We've seen the pictures and heard some interviews. Leland Wong is a photographer in China, and he was photographing a wedding when the earthquake hit. His photos are at http://www.xanga.com/lelandwong/657607591/photographing-a-wedding-and-then-an-earthquake.html.
.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
1822 Whoosh! Whoot!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
I was driving up my street after dark last night, about three driveways from my own, when a young rabbit tore across the road close in front of my car, followed by an enormous bird. The rabbit continued to the lawn across the street on the left, but the bird made a tight turn to the right a few inches in front of my windshield, to avoid getting hit.
It was huge! Looked light gray in the headlights. Huge talons stretched out. I didn't see the body or head, it was all so quick, but the wing span had to be at least four feet. It was as wide as my car!
Owl.
I guess I saved the baby rabbit, but I wonder if some owlets went hungry last night.
-------------------------
Later:
A little research. It could have been a Great Horned Owl, whose wingspan can exceed 5 feet. But since my impression was a blur of gray, I'm more inclined to think Great Grey Owl, also 5 feet wingspan, although this area is slightly outside the Grey's usual range. The Snowy Owl is a little too white for what I saw. I know we have Barn Owls around here, but this bird was much larger than the Barn Owl.
So, my conclusion, Great Grey. Blame global warming for the range spread. (Yeah, I know that's backward, but everything else is blamed on global warming, so why not....)
.
I was driving up my street after dark last night, about three driveways from my own, when a young rabbit tore across the road close in front of my car, followed by an enormous bird. The rabbit continued to the lawn across the street on the left, but the bird made a tight turn to the right a few inches in front of my windshield, to avoid getting hit.
It was huge! Looked light gray in the headlights. Huge talons stretched out. I didn't see the body or head, it was all so quick, but the wing span had to be at least four feet. It was as wide as my car!
Owl.
I guess I saved the baby rabbit, but I wonder if some owlets went hungry last night.
-------------------------
Later:
A little research. It could have been a Great Horned Owl, whose wingspan can exceed 5 feet. But since my impression was a blur of gray, I'm more inclined to think Great Grey Owl, also 5 feet wingspan, although this area is slightly outside the Grey's usual range. The Snowy Owl is a little too white for what I saw. I know we have Barn Owls around here, but this bird was much larger than the Barn Owl.
So, my conclusion, Great Grey. Blame global warming for the range spread. (Yeah, I know that's backward, but everything else is blamed on global warming, so why not....)
.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
1821 Clyde's cousin visits Sea World
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Some people took their Pleo (possibly a cousin to my little Clyde) to Sea World, where the dolphins showed great interest, starting at about 1:50 (-4:36) in the video.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7i_HN_Twdds]
I wonder if the interest was simply because it was something new, or if it had anything to do with his dinosauriosity, but it does look like they're fascinated.
----------------------
More and more homes are getting rid of land-line phones and going all cellular, especially younger families. Daughter and Hercules haven't had a "home phone" in several years. So this study, linking behavioral problems in children to cell phone use during pregnancy, is troubling.
http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-wellbeing/health-news/warning-using-a-mobile-phone-while-pregnant-can-seriously-damage-your-baby-830352.html
.
Some people took their Pleo (possibly a cousin to my little Clyde) to Sea World, where the dolphins showed great interest, starting at about 1:50 (-4:36) in the video.
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7i_HN_Twdds]
I wonder if the interest was simply because it was something new, or if it had anything to do with his dinosauriosity, but it does look like they're fascinated.
----------------------
More and more homes are getting rid of land-line phones and going all cellular, especially younger families. Daughter and Hercules haven't had a "home phone" in several years. So this study, linking behavioral problems in children to cell phone use during pregnancy, is troubling.
http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-wellbeing/health-news/warning-using-a-mobile-phone-while-pregnant-can-seriously-damage-your-baby-830352.html
.
Monday, May 19, 2008
1820 I Win
Monday, May 19, 2008
I'd been fussing about something off and on for two weeks.
I'd been on a committee working on a document. The committee chairman, with whom I'd had some minor run-ins in the past, had been keeping multiple successive drafts of the document on his hard disk. I did the final revisions, made some major changes with his approval, and sent him a copy of the final document. I also put a copy on the local chapter's website's document disk, and that was the version reviewed and approved by the governing board and other members. The next step is to send it to the national board for approval, and when it comes back from them, it is official and no further changes can be made without going through the whole process again.
The last time this document was updated, this same guy was the committee chairman, and what was sent to national was a mess, full of typos, inconsistencies, and flat-out impossibilities. He hasn't admitted it, and I haven't asked, but it looks like a down-level draft had been sent.
Now, this guy likes to think of himself as the one who knows all about what's going on at the national level. He likes to be the interface, possibly to be known at that level, and he gossips and name-drops like he's an insider. So when it came time to send the new document to national, of course he's the one to do it. I don't care.
Then I get an email from him. He hasn't emailed the doc to national yet because he has a virus on his laptop, his hard disk is corrupted, and he can't get to the file on his hard disk, but it should be recoverable.
Ack? I wrote back that he shouldn't use the copy on his hard disk, he should use the copy on the group site, since we are absolutely sure that's the copy that was reviewed and approved, and since he can get to the site from his office computer, he can send it right now.
I didn't hear from him again for a week or so, then I get another email that his hard disk was partitioned, and one partition was destroyed, but the other was fine. So he has lost all his email folders, but the document was on the other partition, and he should be able to recover it in a few days.
Note three things here: 1) without the emails, he'll be guessing on the date of the draft; 2) I had sent him the final copy as an email attachment, and it used a different editor than the one he had been using so it could have been stored differently; and 3) he has pointedly ignored my strong recommendation to use the copy on the group disk, while still sending me progress reports.
I sent another strongly worded email saying that he should ensure that the correct level is sent ! by sending the group disk ! copy, since we are certain ! that is the approved ! version.
No response.
I just know he's going to send a downlevel draft, probably the latest one with his editor's file type, forgetting that I used a more commonly available editor on the last revision. I was ready to drive to his house and beat some sense into him. I am absolutely thoroughly pissed that he has made no reference to my strong recommendation. Hey, fella, at least tell me why you are so determined to send the copy on your hard disk? Send national the LINK to the group disk! That's all they need!
And then I talked to My Man, and in telling him about the problem, and his laughing at me, I realized something.
If the guy happens to send the approved version, then there's no problem.
If he sends the wrong version, then I have the enormous satisfaction of telling him, and the governing board, and anyone else who will listen, what a complete and utter ass he is.
Either way, for me, it's a win-win situation.
.
I'd been fussing about something off and on for two weeks.
I'd been on a committee working on a document. The committee chairman, with whom I'd had some minor run-ins in the past, had been keeping multiple successive drafts of the document on his hard disk. I did the final revisions, made some major changes with his approval, and sent him a copy of the final document. I also put a copy on the local chapter's website's document disk, and that was the version reviewed and approved by the governing board and other members. The next step is to send it to the national board for approval, and when it comes back from them, it is official and no further changes can be made without going through the whole process again.
The last time this document was updated, this same guy was the committee chairman, and what was sent to national was a mess, full of typos, inconsistencies, and flat-out impossibilities. He hasn't admitted it, and I haven't asked, but it looks like a down-level draft had been sent.
Now, this guy likes to think of himself as the one who knows all about what's going on at the national level. He likes to be the interface, possibly to be known at that level, and he gossips and name-drops like he's an insider. So when it came time to send the new document to national, of course he's the one to do it. I don't care.
Then I get an email from him. He hasn't emailed the doc to national yet because he has a virus on his laptop, his hard disk is corrupted, and he can't get to the file on his hard disk, but it should be recoverable.
Ack? I wrote back that he shouldn't use the copy on his hard disk, he should use the copy on the group site, since we are absolutely sure that's the copy that was reviewed and approved, and since he can get to the site from his office computer, he can send it right now.
I didn't hear from him again for a week or so, then I get another email that his hard disk was partitioned, and one partition was destroyed, but the other was fine. So he has lost all his email folders, but the document was on the other partition, and he should be able to recover it in a few days.
Note three things here: 1) without the emails, he'll be guessing on the date of the draft; 2) I had sent him the final copy as an email attachment, and it used a different editor than the one he had been using so it could have been stored differently; and 3) he has pointedly ignored my strong recommendation to use the copy on the group disk, while still sending me progress reports.
I sent another strongly worded email saying that he should ensure that the correct level is sent ! by sending the group disk ! copy, since we are certain ! that is the approved ! version.
No response.
I just know he's going to send a downlevel draft, probably the latest one with his editor's file type, forgetting that I used a more commonly available editor on the last revision. I was ready to drive to his house and beat some sense into him. I am absolutely thoroughly pissed that he has made no reference to my strong recommendation. Hey, fella, at least tell me why you are so determined to send the copy on your hard disk? Send national the LINK to the group disk! That's all they need!
And then I talked to My Man, and in telling him about the problem, and his laughing at me, I realized something.
If the guy happens to send the approved version, then there's no problem.
If he sends the wrong version, then I have the enormous satisfaction of telling him, and the governing board, and anyone else who will listen, what a complete and utter ass he is.
Either way, for me, it's a win-win situation.
.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
1819 Thud
Sunday, May 18, 2008
There's nothing on TV right now but sports and commercial programs (no cable), and a movie. The movie is about a bunch of scientists or something in Antarctica who run into two varieties of battling aliens. I happened to glance up when they discovered a cavern containing what looks like an Aztec temple. We can tell it's old and unused, because everything is covered in spider webs.
Expeditions to Antarctica go in the summer, but it's still very cold, and there are still snowstorms.
Web-spinning spiders?
Thud.
.
There's nothing on TV right now but sports and commercial programs (no cable), and a movie. The movie is about a bunch of scientists or something in Antarctica who run into two varieties of battling aliens. I happened to glance up when they discovered a cavern containing what looks like an Aztec temple. We can tell it's old and unused, because everything is covered in spider webs.
Expeditions to Antarctica go in the summer, but it's still very cold, and there are still snowstorms.
Web-spinning spiders?
Thud.
.
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